Brain Damage: Chasing a Red Herring

I’ve been having what I think are tremors. I looked it up when my legs weren’t working. I know… Dr. Google is not the best resource, but I was tired of emailing my neurologist. Also… what can he really do about it? Of course, I looked that up too. PT/OT, which I already know is a good idea and something I need to do, but I don’t know how to find the time. I know that sounds like an excuse.. and maybe it is. Last time, I was going twice a week, and trying to work, and taking the girls to school. I just feel so tired. More or less what I found was that PT would not really make a lot of a difference, and OT would help me live with the symptoms. Next? A benzo or a muscle relaxer. I am unsure how to describe the face I make when I think about that. Eww. That sounds like a bad idea… What if I like it. Not in the “this works well,” kind of way, more like addiction worries. I am not sure that would be the case, but I am so afraid it could be. None of that was what I wanted to hear!

When I looked it up, there was a theme that emerged. “Brain damage” was mentioned numerous times, in reference to both the tremors and MS in general. As in, the attack on the myelin sheath in the brain was literally causing brain damage. Which, on the surface, of course it was. But also, seeing it those words written out in that way made me sad. I don’t know exactly why. My sister asked me, “would neurological damage be better?” I think so, but I don’t know why. She said maybe it paints a fuller picture. She’s right, and I don’t think that’s what makes it feel better for me. There was something about the reference to “brain damage,” that was triggering for me. So, I decided to think about it, and be curious about what my brain was trying to tell me. 

 My first thought was an old coworker of mine. We will call him Chase. He had a TBI, I either never knew how, or don’t remember how, but I remember he was wild. He felt out of control most of the time, and also social and a lot of fun. Have lots of memories with him, but the one that sticks out to me the most was when we went to a wedding together in Wyoming. He drove a jeep wrangler, like an old one, that had no doors and was a million feet high. (wild, I’m tellin ya.) I told him I was not going to a wedding in a car like that. In fact, without him I would not have even gone to this wedding. I was invited to a wedding by woman (who I did not know) a guest after giving her and her fiancé’s friend. It’s a great story, don’t get me wrong, but without Chase asking me, and reminding me, and fixating on going to this wedding, I wouldn’t have actually attended. Haha. But, we went, in my car. It was October and in Wyoming… we needed doors. 

I remember meeting him in the parking lot after work to head to Wyoming… the wedding in the middle of the state, and a pretty long drive. He parked next to my car, threw his fishing poles in the back, and told me he would be driving. At first I didn’t really care, I worked all day and I was pretty tired. Until I was witnessing him drive! This man was WILD! After about an hour, and when we had made it to Fort Collins area, I considered if I should drive. There would be less people, which likely meant he would go even faster, and the state patrol was right there… I told him if he didn’t calm down I would be driving, and he adjusted pretty well. Until we crossed the state line. My goodness… he was obsessed with Wyoming. The energy spike he got even by just seeing it written down was outrageous. He was like a puppy. I told him again that he needed to calm down, and for the most part he was able to do it… sort of. 

I remember him telling me some of the symptoms he had, but the most upsetting and difficult for him to manage was the impulsivity. He wasn’t able to think about things before he did them. It made him a great tour guide and bartender, and he was a lot of fun, but he was… like I said… wild. I’m sure you can imagine how alcohol intensified this, and made him even more out of control. Another symptom he had was his sense of smell and taste was effected. Which meant he could drink anything, and he did!

I reminded Chase multiple times that although we were both invited to this wedding, and we were both attending it, we were not going “together.” Another way he seemed not able to control himself was hitting on me… a lot. Thinking back, it’s silly that I went to this stranger’s wedding, especially with Chase. But… here we are. We were in this small town… very small. He was, of course, thrilled to be there. Our reputation proceeded us when we got there. Somehow, people seemed to know who we were, and why we were there. It was kinda funny, honestly. I remember feeling like this town was prominently made up of middle aged men in cowboy boots, so Chase had to wear his too… of course. 

Do you ever remember a story and think, “hmm… that was foreshadowing.” This was one of those moments. When we were at the bar, and I was one of three women in the bar (and one of them was the bartender), and an old man came to ask Chase if he could dance with me… that could have been a sign to me. At the time, however, I was unaware. Chase “graciously” gave me up, and “allowed” me to dance with this man. Looking back now, I am upset about this for many reasons. First of all, if my husband (who I love more than anything) told me he would allow me to do something I would be pissed at him… and because of that I know he would never do that. Also, who does this old man think he is that he has to ask another man if I can dance with him?!?! I’m good enough to dance with you, but not to be asked?! Makes me angry… but that’s not the story here. 

Chase was just so unaware of his impact… and of reality. I think because we were in Wyoming, and he felt he was among his people, and somehow they all seemed to know us so he felt famous, it was like he thought anything was possible. I think a part of him genuinely thought I belonged to him. Not like we were dating (which we weren’t) like I was his property. That he could “show me off” to the old Wyoming cowboys, and allow me to dance with them, and then “take me home” and do what he wanted. 

Nope. 

I was not here for that. Any of it. I was getting more and more upset with that, and him. I told him to stop, I told him I didn’t like it, and he didn’t take me seriously. There’s a bit of me that is kind of proud of myself, if I’m honest. I gave him his hotel key (because he didn’t think he would be responsible enough to hold on to his own… you know… brain damage) *insert eye roll* and told him he was now on his own. This is when he started yelling at me. He was small… but wild, remember. I didn’t think he would actually do anything to me, but I was not the most comfortable. I was in a state that I didn’t truly know anyone, I had already paid for a hotel room that was going to be cohabited by a very angry guy that seemed to have very little control of himself and his emotions. Doesn’t feel safe, and I also had no idea what to do. 

This is when I was glad some of the old men were around. Chase thought he was friends with them, so they were able to convince him to go outside and talk. Then another one of them held his hand out and invited me to go to the bar. When I got there, everyone was asking if I was okay. They called him my boyfriend, because HE TOLD THEM THAT. I explained the “rest of the story.” By this time, the band even came to check on me. My goodness, we had made quite the scene in this small town. 

“Girl! We will get you a room here!” One of the bartenders told me. 

Underestimating Chase’s impulse control, at first, I told her it was okay. I thought he just needed to cool down. Also, I was a little surprised that this bar was a hotel… Wyoming is sneaky! Did you know they have drive-though liquor stores?! And they sell alcoholic slushies there?! At the drive-through?! Well… they put a little piece of tape on the top of the straw so you don’t drink and drive… obviously!

Okay, back to the story. One of the old guys came in from talking with Chase and said, “Sweetheart, he loves you. I think y’all should go home and make up.” 

In my head (sorry mom): *What the fuck?! Did he just say that?! Sweetheart? Go home?! Who does he think he is?* Then it felt like the room was spinning, and I felt like I was having a conversation in my head for a long time… which I probably wasn’t. Eventually I think I just said, “what?” out loud, and the people in the bar would not let the man repeat his request for me to go home and make up with Chase. The bartender said, “I don’t think so, Jim.” I don’t remember his name, but she did. 

Then one of the guys from the band said, “she can stay with us, if she wants.” He looked at me and smiled. I could tell by the way the way the bartenders and others at the bar nodded that they knew him, and it was the first time in Wyoming that I felt safe. The bartender told me that the band had a suite with multiple rooms, and one of the other band members told me I could take his bed because it had a door. Right when I was starting to feel like I was crazy, these people in this tiny silly town 3 hours north of my house took care of me. Like really took care of me. The old men kindly talked with Chase about the plan, and asked him not to come back in the bar, the bartender gave me a free ‘part of the band’ drink, and the band members talked to me as a real person. 

When the bar was closing, the bartender gave me her number and told me if I needed anything to call her. The band members showed me to the room and made good on their promise to give me the bed with a door. It was very sweet. 

I woke up the next day to 15+ texts from other coworkers that were not Chase, asking me to talk with him, and take care of him, and reminding me that he had a TBI and didn’t know what he was doing. *okay, you’re right* I remember thinking. I mean, I wasn’t looking forward to the three hour drive home… but I did want to get back to watch the Broncos. I thanked the band, gave them all a hug, and headed back to the hotel room I actually paid for. 

When I got there, my stuff was everywhere, and his was nowhere to be seen. No note, no texts from him… but I knew he had his phone, because how else would all of our coworkers know about last night’s craziness. I packed up, checked out, and gave him a call. No answer.

I will spare you the two hours it took me to finally get ahold of him. He told me he was “hanging out the with bride and groom,” which I still think is an odd thing to say. He told me where he was, and I went to pick him up. I prepared myself, I was not going to show how upset I was, or talk about it with him. *he has a brain injury* I told myself. When I got there, he came running, and said “unlock the car!” *what?* I reminded him what we talked about before leaving, that I wanted to watch the Broncos, and we needed to leave soon or I’d miss it. 

“We are in Wyoming, I need to go fishing.” I was reminded that I already took him fishing on the way to the wedding… mostly because when I tried to explain that I didn’t want to go fishing, I didn’t want to walk in mud in heels on the way to a wedding, or that I was afraid of fish, he told me, “this is Wyoming, nobody cares.” 

When I told him I was not doing that, he told me he didn’t care, and I could just leave him “with his people.” How I stayed calm through this, I am still not sure. I tried to remind him that we didn’t actually know these people, and that we needed to go home. He took all of his stuff out of my car and said,

“goodbye, Red Herring. I hope the Broncos lose.” 

Yep… that’s what I think of when I think of brain damage. I don’t want that. Then, the more research I do teaches me, ‘neurologists say there is no remitting in brain damage.’ *fuck* sorry, again, mom. 

Ironically, about 10 minutes into my 3 hour drive home, I got a phone call. At first I almost hoped it was Chase. I thought he had come to his senses. 

Nope, it was my friend Doll. “Jadus! Did you really leave Chase in Wyoming!? What did he do?” *Seriously?!* Then my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Everyone wanted to know what I did to Chase. It’s good that I didn’t get a ticket, and I was probably driving faster than I shoud’ve. By the time the third person called me and asked me to go back and get him, I stopped answering my phone. I turned up my music, and sang to watch the Broncos play. Now, I don’t remember if they won or not… but it was during the Manning years… so they probably won.

I worked with Chase for about another year before he got fired for having fake pee in his locker to pass drug tests. It was awkward for a little while because when he would call for me on the radio (which was almost daily), he would call someone else to ask me the question he had. Eventually people stopped asking me if it was true that I left him in Wyoming, either because they weren’t around then or because they said, “I get it.” They didn’t get it, but I didn’t correct them. I just gave a half smile and nodded. 

I felt bad for Chase, and I still do if I’m honest. I wonder what he was like before the TBI, or what he would’ve been like without it. The idea that my body is on a kamikaze mission to give me brain damage makes me sad. I don’t want it.