I don’t remember (start here)

I don’t remember anymore what I did or said. I don’t even know if the memory even formed.

I know I next I ran up the stairs, slamming every step, running across the larger bedroom in the front of the house. Diving into the pillow, screaming out all of my heart and my lungs, screaming “I do love my mommy and daddy, I do love my mommy and daddy…”

That is my first memory, ever. Unless I used to have one before it, maybe there was one more before that? Flashes here and there the first few years and I always look to make markers. Smell a beer and look around and remember your friends, they will follow you with that smell. I like to remember things, it is just so hard to remember all of the things, all of the time. How often do you like to think of the things you remember?

My second memory, the same house out in Cement City, I remember my dog died on a Saturday morning (that’s a guess) as I remember dragging him from where he lay to join me watching the Jetsons on TV, then my mom later teaching me about death. Vaguely, I remember a burial out in the back yard. Later being pushed on bike across the street and a few more from there.

My next “first” memory was after four days in a coma.

Memories are funny and so precious, the only ones you’ve got! Also, they are not rock solid- for anyone. I’ve read up before and won’t google it again now, yet I know there are a lot of ways that false memories can be created. For me though, I’ve made of habit of ‘trying’ to remember things, usually by lining up other contemporaneous information, an email I sent, a text, photos & videos, etc. And now, this blog. Ever watch the Butterfly Effect? Maybe this is part 3?

I find it hard to describe the mental challenge of the last two week, also how glad I am I waited this long to write out the whole story of Shaggio and my last skydive. Writing a story is one thing and to write a challenged story, argumentatively, by yourself another, even if I thought I could before. Yet, that is what I needed, to have my story challenged, forcing me to defend it. Guiding me through making sure I got the whole story out. Trying to just go that much thought, directed while raw, is so hard to maintain, that has all quieted now though, with just a few more bits coming in.

A few pages already written today, my final debrief, and the finished #ShaggyWasn’tThere page. Almost surprisingly I made a fresh takeoff list today too. Getting this story out and starting the legal process was a critical step while I was here in Michigan.

Hmm, perhaps by way of introduction, I should explain a little bit. This website is my PT blog. I was in was a severe skydiving incident almost eighteen months ago. The blog is both a place to hold my notes, exercises, medicines, yet really it is the typing itself that I needed the most for a variety of reasons. My left side has weakness from a brain issue I think (no firm diagnosis as MRI’s had to be skipped at the time due to the broken drill bit in my pelvis) similar to a mini-stroke event, one symptom were my left toes all curled up. Though, that could also be from the nerve damage in the ankle, knee, or hip, sacrum or spine… I broke all of my crumple zones.

I have balance and gait issues issues that are getting better as I continue to regain strength, yet separate spasticity issues from an incomplete SCI… to many to list and that is what I get to do in the morning, type up a doctors report time for my ‘checkup’ and see how the progress is going on getting my next two surgeries as well as get my prescriptions refilled.

The part that bothers me most now is trying to figure out what actually happened to me and why everyone has been trying to convince me I’m wrong. What does that mean to me if they are right? That I tanked in on my own? Okay, why? Why was I there? Then, why would my mind create a memory so vivid if it wasn’t real? Is that the possibility of a truly delusional person? I must be mental, I am having a hard time doing things, well except typing, but I do have all day.

Could my brain…  upon knowing my reputation dire, created some imaginary story arc with some imaginary path of triumph? In that case not surprising that Shaggy could have been drafted into that role, with my previous employment, that is my always scheduled, automatically annually renewing, and very directed performance, period of employment history there. Past the time for those details though, I think I’ve done enough.

At this point I’ve thought it through – I can’t believe Shaggy would do that to me. I don’t want to. I also don’t understand why so many would testify to a lie, randomly saying seventeen months later “I remember him not being there” if it had not been previously discussed. If it was previously discussed, why? Why would he have come up at my incident scene if I’d meet with him a day or two before? Why does everyone keep trying to push the timeline later in the day? Why did I know (think? imagine?) they would?

What does that mean at this point I hope I’m wrong. I can just put this all in a book (hmm, maybe book number two.. I’ve got a title in mind) sell it and be done.I don’t feel that I have to keep remembering it now, as if I was reciting it all to myself, all the tidbits of clues all along. Through the different clouds of drugs, trying not to loose the grasp of my own core knowledge- if that’s what I’ve been holding onto.

Which and there is another good reason I’m likely wrong, this might sound a bit like the movie Momento– I love that movie.. after watching it three or four times, the storytelling concept was so unique it had really made an impression on me. Could that have been the seed of this skydive themed hyperlinked total recall event? I do also smoke pot, that certainly is true.

It had to be solved, it had to be tested and I knew, I knew I needed to know or be tormented forever. Can’t be tested directly, and at the time not that was present and involved, no one back at home I could trust either, I made one call at least. So what then.. better to shield the truth and keep it, until I was strong enough to let it out. And it really is like Augustine said, just let it out, the truth will defend itself.

The result, I only have to read my own apology of course, knowing know.. well what. what do I know.

A dozen random people remembered shag was not there.

hmm.. a dozen people remembered shag was not there.

hmm.. a dozen people remembered something about shag the day of my incident— why?

Why did they all discuss and agree that he was not there- or since that is just my guess – but how else does that many people randomly remember shag wasn’t there? When I crashed did people turn and look for shag? Why?

I remember him telling me about the wedding or something, he was in a rush.

Mostly I remember the outfit he was wearing, as pictured, he did not show up to jump. That’s what I remember most.

At whatever part of the lesson I’d asked if he would be staying for the review, that is the whole point I think of skydive lesson: Teach, observe, and debrief. I wanted him to be there and I wanted him to stay, until that moment that I saw the downwind arrow.

I know I need to let this go, but I still need to gift wrap that bow. and gosh knows I’ll have some conclusive thoughts on the final bit.

How much of dick or an asshole or ahh.. human, how human do I have to be to accuse a dozen people of trying to cover up my death?

Good thing I’m not.  I’m just using that fact, to show that Shaggie Was There.

I have a TBI? Does that even cover this? I’m glad I’m almost done with all this I think. If nothing else, I do hope this is a good’ish book.

Mostly I’m glad I won’t have to judge his guilt. The state will find a fresh dozen of Floridians for that I would hope.

Who called shag? Why? What did you say? Or is that why you called him, to ask him exactly that?

Someone has answers that could solve my TBI.

Time to rest.

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