Chapter 3 Beyond Reason
Day Seven – Confident
People who lose their minds are the last to find out.
Prior to the car accident, I’d possessed many characteristics that an employer likes to have in an employee: punctual – usually early – qualified, efficient, initiatory, organized and thorough. I’d only missed work under the most adverse circumstances; six years was my longest streak without a sick day. Every year I rated in the top percentile range and received good raises. So when a week’s absence had passed since the accident, I sensed that I had been gone an eternity.
Over the next several years, this would be the second to last time that I would feel time pressing down on me. Quickly, I was losing the fourth dimension and traveling toward the timeless zone where only “now” held palpable meaning. Blind to my condition, I deemed myself more than ready to return to my job.
The twenty-two mile drive to work in my other car felt like a virtual-reality driving game with the scenery whizzing past. It appeared as if the road signs, the trees, and the buildings were going to bombard my car. The white lines on the road sped at me with velocity and I found it difficult to stay in the center of my lane. Still an icon of safety, I was strapped in tight for my white-knuckled “Indy 22” ride.
I used to drive to work in a specific pattern, switching lanes at about the same points, taking the most efficient way there. My best guess is that I stuck to my habit and took the same route I’d always taken. However, I was unable to adhere to my driving pattern. Switching lanes was not manageable because my head would not turn and I was unable to keep track of the other vehicles. Cars mysteriously appeared in my field of vision and then popped out like magician David Copperfield and his assistants. So much was happening around me that I had no time to check my mirrors. My new objective was survival. I became a slow-lane driver, attempting to change lanes only if absolutely necessary. Judging from my later recognition that I drove like a grandmother, that first day back I must have been the slowest driver puttering along the eight-lane divided expressway.
Remind Me Why I’m Here:
Sifting through Sudden Loss of Memory and Judgment
Reviewed by Cathy Yanda for Reader Views (10/06)
Diana Lund’s story cannot help but inspire anyone who reads “Remind Me Why I’m Here.” As the reader is increasingly drawn into her daily life, one quickly realizes how different her life has become. One day she is a top-ranked project manager; the next, she is struggling to be able to focus on her computer monitor. One day she is able to keep track of work and social commitments; the next she sits and cannot concentrate on even one small task. One day she is a woman in love, thinking of marriage and children; the next she is dependant on him for everything from grocery shopping to keeping appointments straight. One day she is a loving daughter; the next she doesn’t recognize her mother in a restaurant. There is much more.
As the reader walks with Diana in her daily life, watching her trying to fit into her previous work and social life, continuing to do her best to research what is going on with her, one can’t help but develop great respect for this remarkable woman. This is not only a memoir. It is an eye opening look into something that could happen to any of us. Diana learns to set the laundry basket in the middle of the living room floor to remind her that she has a load of laundry in the washing machine.
She puts a sign in the kitchen to remind herself to set a timer when she puts food on the stove so it will not burn. She discloses many other tricks that could be helpful to those who are aging. Over time, Diana’s relationship with her boyfriend fizzles, she loses her job, and she loses track of her finances. Many of us would have given up on things. She did not. She worked harder to learn all she could, to write things down because she knew wouldn’t remember them, and to keep the journal that eventually contributed to this book. Diana, now in love with a wonderful man, writes, “I am at peace with who I am. My new life of work brings joy, creativity and goodness to me, as does my partner-for-life.” She is not a whisper of the woman she was before the injury, but truly a shouting voice for those who have endured brain trauma. “Remind Me Why I’m Here” is beautifully written and should be in the waiting area of every neurologist. Personally, I am eager to read her second memoir.
