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Brain Go BOOM! Author/Survivor: John Cooper I needed to get out, but where should I go? I could only think of one place. The Mart. Could this be the store where I blend in with others? (Because I am not able to use certain people, places’ or things’ proper names, I’ll give you a clue of which store this is: the first part of the Mart’s name is not a ceiling or a floor. It’s more or less the place what you hang pictures on…on a ****. Put this word in front of Mart and you’ve got it! Please say you got that clue. If you have a brain injury, I’ll let it slide.) I hopped in my silver Honda Accord and started her up. I felt like a man again. I was thinking that maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea, but I had to do it for my own sanity; I had to get out by myself, alone. It felt great driving my own car. As I made my way towards the Mart, I approached a red traffic light and then, BOOM!, another RED LIGHT. This time I was prepared. As I looked out my driver’s side window, there was a man staring at me with a disgusted look. I revved up my engine, and with my tongue hanging out my left, lower lip, made a crazy-looking face. After the light turned green, I removed my foot from the brake and took off like a bat out of Hell. Damn, that felt great! It was total retribution from the first RED LIGHT encounter on the drive home from rehab. I became engulfed in a lengthy, full-belly laughing episode. I felt alive! The crazy and funny Johnny is coming back! I slowly pulled into the Mart’s parking lot, exited my car and walked into the store. I can’t remember what I purchased but I enjoyed walking around. Remarkably, not many people looked at me with disgust. Most looked at me with compassion and some sort of understanding. I was taken back and blown away at the same time. Even before I walked in, I had prepared myself for the worst. Part of my anxiety of the trip had been smothered out from the RED LIGHT encounter just prior to my arrival. Was this my new, public safe haven? Or perhaps I had turned into one of those Mart Martians. You know, those crazy pictures of guys dressed up like women or the morbidly obese women wearing clothes that are six sizes too small. I went to the checkout line and the cashier kindly smiled at me. She asked, “Why are you wearing a helmet?” Because of her sincere voice and kind demeanor, I had no problem telling her my abridged version. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes started to tear and she Page 60 of 167
Brain Go BOOM! Author/Survivor: John Cooper reached for some tissues. “I lost my father to a brain aneurysm. I’m so glad that you made it through.” She put my items in that spinney bag thing, handed me my receipt, then came out from behind the counter and gave me a strong, sincere, heartfelt hug. It was unbelievable! I thought, Okay, this is turning out to be a great day. I walked out of the store to my car and put the bags in the trunk. As I was getting in, I forgot about the damn helmet and BOOM! I banged the right side of my head. Yes, the affected right side. If not for the protection of the helmet, I would have just received my last hug ever! I knew I shouldn’t have gone out in the first place and that bang reminded me of how vulnerable I really was. I kept my eyes straight on the road the entire ride home, even at the red traffic lights. I made it home before anybody knew I was gone. I was so drained I could barely move, but I also felt alive. No straining. You would be amazed at how much you strain throughout the day and don’t realize it. I was still getting painful headaches for which I took codeine. The major side effect of codeine is constipation and when you’re constipated you strain and when you strain with twenty-five percent of your skull missing, it is quite a unique and eerie experience. One particular day, as I was bearing down, it felt like the right part of my head, which only had the skin as a barrier between my brain and the outside world, would partially expand outwards. I placed my hand over my missing skull area when I strained in hopeful expectation that it would hold things back from dislodging or popping. I don’t know what I was thinking; I just knew this couldn’t be good. Stool softeners were a complete failure. I thought, Screw this; I knew I needed to move up to the heavy artillery—the almighty blue, shiny pill—the laxative. Thankfully, the blue, shiny pill was the solution and the straining subsided. Then came Double Jeopardy. No bending over. I am a big proponent of sanitary wipes (aka butt wipes). I firmly believe that when your butt is thoroughly clean, you simply have a better day. While fighting the constipation demons, I recall, one particular morning, dropping a package of my precious buttcleansing wipes on the bathroom floor. They bounced off my foot and slid across the floor. I looked down. “Really? Come on!” After about ten minutes of straining, all while attempting to Page 61 of 167
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