The Invisible Victim In Plain Sight... ...

Or should I say "Wounded Man Walking"?

Given my situation I almost wish my facial fracture left scars. My eyeglasses which hit the asphalt while attached to my face had Poly-Carbonate lens. They did not break however you can see how the asphalt responded to my flirtation with it. For that I still have my eyes. In fact, from the swelling of my brain my eye's have changed in a significant manner. However, if I wear a jacket or long sleeve shirt I look just like any 6'3" 275lb apple pie American man on 30-something. (I'm 45 though!)

This is part of the trouble I face every day. Social situations are my bane yet I can't avoid social gatherings. Even here in New Hampshire, which is not a really heavily populated region, I find myself surrounded by people who just don't get it... me. I am now the perfect enlisted man. I don't want to know "why" of any situation. Why is confusing, debatable, and tends to lead to arguments. Give me "what" and I will hit that target. Just don't share with me your why's.

Why's require more of my memory than I have access to, more than I have sufficient control over. Why asks me to share opinion or I am in agreement with your why's. The truth is maybe my opinion is negative on your situation or cognitive train of thought. Then what? Then I have a debate on my hands, a debate that I did not want (at all) and I may lose a friend. So, to fit in with "society" I have to nod my head and keep silent. A trait that I have never developed even before my accident.

My injury destroyed my saliency. It is hard to explain what being a Mensan with perfect peripheral vision means. Just being a Mensan means my brain is zipping along absorbing everything around me, making connections, unearthing possibilities, and identifying flaws... in EVERYTHING. What society has ever liked such a person?

Now, to be honest, I wasn't a smooth fit in society before my accident. Drop me into any social gathering and I always made an impact. When people are faced with an honest man of good integrity with honor always in his heart and a willingness to engage in a healthy level of self sacrifice, the impact is a given. I had learned to work with society even with my "traits", be a contributing member rarely surrounded by controversy (or oddness). Sadly that is no more.

I wonder if letting me live is the Lord's way of highlighting this "Invisible Disease"... and invisible it is without a doubt.

Surviving significant brain injury is something old and new. Old in there are tales and stories of people suffering such massive injury and leading lives, interesting ones - limited ones, yes. New in that medical technology has reached a point where someone like myself, who may have died, continues onward. New in the fact that not just the lucky few continue onward but a growing number of survivors, functional survivors, is a growing percentage of our population. However, our society has little or no experience in treating each other well... let alone the Invisible Wounded like myself.

Now, just because I say "society" does not mean I have been routinely scorned by every person or organization that I have interacted with. In fact, the willingness to help is so readily available I am overwhelmed with joy at how helpful people are. Sometimes it can be a bit smothering, people assuming my limits and interfering with me, yet all in all it gives this Invisible Wounded hope for the future.

My local Starbucks, my Staples, Berwick Artist Association, Friends of Somersworth, my Church, my Lodge, my VFW... I almost feel like I am giving an Oscar speech here. So many rewarding moment and people that even working fine my memory would not get them all. The bad guys? Those I remember because they are much fewer in number. Social Security, South Eastern New Hampshire Habitat For Humanity, Seacoast Orthopedics.

The government that I went to war for has decided that it would cost money to determine my level of disability and since I am making no financial demands upon the system, why bother?

SENH H4H has individuals in its leadership that did not like me when I volunteered through them that citing my brain injury as reason for Mental Stability concerns (that none of my Doctor's have!) is a cheap cop-out covering up ego driven selfish pettiness.

Seacoast Orthopedics is a real mystery. Before my accident, I was treated for shoulder issues. After my accident, they did not want to hear from me, at all. No reason given, of any kind. Just take your records and suffer pain and discomfort elsewhere. These guys were so bold as to tell my primary care to take a walk. No reason given, not even a lame excuse. Just g.t.f.o. you are fired as a returning patient.

I can only imagine, with some growing sense of horror, what my life would be in my hometown of Philadelphia. I would be extremely impaired from the necessary level of repression that I would have to put on myself. In Philadelphia, my brain injury and PTSD (military) would make me a walking target. That I have dealt with however in the past when I have had to deal with it no one died. I would not be able to reasonably assure that would be the case now. It is quite possible that I would identify an attacker as excessive and unreasonable. A danger to not just myself but to a family member, to an uninvolved innocent, and mentally decide that "he" must be dealt with. And, scarily enough, I have great skill in physical confrontation and a technique that leaves people wide open to my actions. Or, as most of those who have been on the receiving end have said, "No warning whatsoever. No yelling, no exclamation, no obvious signs of what was coming. Just >bam< and then being on the floor covering up from the stomping that commenced."

That is what makes my Invisibility so dangerous. I already know how to be invisible already and how to use it for my own purposes and designs. It is just now that I am now a walking talking Invisible Victim in plain sight... that just makes me a Target for anyone with an off day or moment.

... My cup overflows.

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows."
Psalm 23:5

On September 23rd 2012 the Lord saved my life. He did it in front of eyewitnesses not my enemies. Though I will confess that I am greatly offended by some of the commentary about my apparent bicycling skill. It was apparent that I was not a "good" bicyclist since my bike was not a new spiffy tehnowonder cycle. So since I choose to use the bike my friend gave me, through another friend, I obviously sucked as a cyclist. (shoulder shrugs)

So the Lord saved my life as an example to others. My head was anointed all right, to the point that some parts of the calcium were broken. The doctors had to drill holes in it to see what was going on. (Yes, they did not just put sensors in - they put in cameras!) Yet, all in all, here I am.

I am on no medication regimen, I am competent with matters in front of my face, I've even had a court appeareance seeking a restraining order against a nefarious individual. The judge chuckled and enjoyed my dialogue. I may be brain injured but I live and I thrive.

... My cup overflows.

12 Hours Left... ...

I'm struggling today a bit more than usual. By "date", tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my TBI accident. However by "time" it is less than 12 hours till the 1 year mark of that event. Or, as a VFW brother said, "The mark of my unluckiest lucky moment of your life".

The struggle is understanding the enormity of the moment I lived through. I remember the moments leading up to the accident. I was heading downhill in an awesomely panoramic moment, loving this beautiful earth and words of angelic joy filling my throat, and then... I started waking up again. Part of me struggles with the lack of "the next moment". I feel like I should remember it, that there was something that I'm just letting slip from my memory. The only benefit is that I don't have PTSD from the accident, itself, however I do feel a bit of stress over not remembering it. I should or what is the point of this well trained Combat Veteran mind if I can't remember my environment or actions.

The real PTSD that I am having to deal with is not my own, at all. It is the burden that my wife shouldered. What she endured for her husband is the stuff of legend. I do not feel worth such legendary endurance however regardless of how I feel about myself I was, and am, the recipient of it. I strive to honor that effort, that gift, with each waking moment that the Lord graces me with.

One major part of my philosophy is: That it is better to give than receive, yes, but if you receive badly how do you make the giver feel?

The Lord gave me the gift of life. I am going to live, as much as I can, to make him pleased to have given me that gift. Now, I have my wife's gift of love to honor and cherish just as much as my own life. And I will no matter what it takes, I will honor her gift to me and cherish her love for me... forever Moore.

One Night In Jita

Two more days and I hit the 1 year anniversary of my accident. It is hard to explain how Traumatic Brain Injury has "unlocked" me. I used to be so very creative, very much a Tall Poppy, however I learned how to make myself readily acceptable by the messed up standards Society places upon the "not normal".

Today I am trying to arrange a gathering of my virtual friends who live near me. We met and spent much time in an MMO called Eve Online. Not a nice place mind you. A place where people live for deceitful accomplishments. I have a strong history in that environment and and almost as strong reputation. I never cut a bad deal. I never ever cheat anyone. No matter what incentives in play, no matter my opinion of that person, nefarious thoughts do not live here, ever. So much a reputation in these matters EON magazine interviewed me for publication.

All I am trying to do is to get an impromptu Corp Op, in meat space, to have a meal at the TeaTotaller. A time where a couple of military veterans, we all are, can sit down and enjoy each others company. But that got me thinking back on something that is a wonderful display of my creative tongue-in-cheek wit. An example of who I used to be, before TBI, and who I still am, after TBI. Sadly, since I don't have access to my old social skills... I stand out like a squeaky wheel.

More dramatically, as I used to tell people, not a squeaky wheel but a nail that stands up. Wheels cry for oil, yes they do, however oil is an ever disappearing commodity. Nails that stand up, however, are cured with a hammer. Hammering nails seems to be a popular past time in this Media driven shallow wit Society. Alas, I see a lot of hammers being raised since my brain injury... and not a drop of oil anywhere. Shucks, I keep expending my own personal oil on people/organizations and they just keep hammering away thinking that I am somehow made of oil for the taking.

Four (4) Days To Go... ...

That's right, in 4 days I "celebrate" my one year anniversary of my accident. I have trouble remembering much of the past year. I remember my vague thoughts as I was coming out of a comatose state. I remember relearning to walk. I remember my first day back at home. I remember my wife's struggles for me without any partner.

I remember figuring out where the Krempels Center is located. I remember the first time I went there. I drove myself there without getting lost and introduced myself. I remember the few Masonic gatherings I was able to attend. I remember meeting the august gentleman who is New Hampshire's Grandmaster Mason. I remember how humbling it was to be in his presence and not be overwhelmed at the same time.

Sadly, there is one thing that I do remember. I can't forget how embarrassing I was as a person. On a society level I was a blot upon the sun. Embarrasing myself, that does not linger as fair as shame or guilt is concerned. However embarrassing another, that lingers onward.

Much of my efforts these days is trying to correct any awkward feelings I caused to exist. However, this is not easy. I've already learned one harsh lesson while trying to say sorry. Sometimes sorry is not what people want to hear. Figuring out what they want is so nebulous that touch something here irratates another spot. And with the "net' being so powerful, it is easy for offended people to find much to deepen, and stregthen, thier annoyance.

Add to which, I've been using this forum to speak my mind as thoughts come to me. This fuels the problem. For example, there was (locally) a rash of spiteful vandalism a few months ago. While it has died down, no more acts have taken place, the local Police Department is leering my way. My inability to sleep the night through leave me awake at off hours. Sometimes I'll go out in my backyard and stare at the night sky. I take my cane and flashlight with me as there is a local coyote population. If a coyote wants to say hi to me I just want to say hi back in a language he/she understands.

However the P.D. is now looking at me for the vandal acts. Apparently I want to start a neighborhood watch and to get it started I committed these acts of vandalism. So instead of learning more about Traumatic Brain Injury & how to assist with it, the local police officers are learning more about George Zimmerman and the craziness of ill motivated people.

This was just one example, I have many people and organizations that have struck at me (peripherally) just because I am different than the norm. Before my accident, I was still different I just knew how to "hide" it so that people did not notice. My memory being so dicey has made my old skill of "seeming normal" is gone leaving only the mind of a Mensan of high integrity with Combat experience & training. Can one imagine why the police are looking sideways at me?

However, issues aside, this is painful and draining. Here I am always trying to remember my limitations (I do forget them) and try to "normalize" myself to acceptable society standards. I'm just having trouble finding my box. I would happily shrink myself into an acceptable box but I can't find it. Makes me wish for my pine box but that is depression speaking. I know that if I wanted my pine box, I would not have to look far for a person willing to consign my VFW old butt into it.

Autobiography ... ... or not.

I find myself in a position of writing about myself. However this is usually considered an Autobiography, hopefully from someone worth reading about. Now, I do know that parts of my life is useful to know. Why go through it if you can read about it. However some things you have to go through on your own no matter how skillfully I can relay the experience. No matter how many words I throw at a topic you won't know it until after the fact.

"Experience is a back breaker, especially when you don't have it!"

That allows me to segue into a topic, my finances compel me to seek alternatives to my current life situation. Now, I could use my "cv" to try to get ahead, sure. Having the D.O.D. and Electronic Arts on it makes mine exceedingly attractive, especially in the IT field. The skills I could bring to bear are usually beyond the needs, and desires, of most East Coast corporations. Also, I could just become a cyber panhandler. Standing around on the Internet, waving a dirty "please help poor little old me" blanket, just humming for money till my money worries are gone. Yeah I could do that or I could create content that is worthwhile.

The idea of spending my time productively, now that is attractive. Both to you and to me. I've lightly hit google trying to find a newzine venue and I'd be working way too much for a middle man's success. Not my own or yours, just busting my chops to make him successfull though he expends very little effort. Not my kind of sense to be honest. I understand that to use the financial system there will always be leeches attached at various non-removable spots yet I can do what I can to avoid as many of the binds as I can.

This brings me to the next problem, publishing. As this blog shows I don't need a publisher to speak. However I don't know of any publisher that won't want an author to become a media driven ego maniac. Of course that would mean that you'd have to repeatedly buy the ever oncoming versions of my autobiography as well. Through traditional methods I would only share with a few of you and only share every so often with an ever shrinking sample. Unnacceptable in the extreme.

So I am going to try something that will handle financials, as you the reader would like. I am using PayPal to accept donations. Donations that will be used, potentially non-profit like, however instead of just a blanket request for money I am attached a donatable amount per article. Now, let's be clear: You can read as much as you like freely. If you are so inclined, you (at your choice) may applaud or agree with the aspect of our society that everyone seems to respect. Some articles mean much more to me than others. Some articles are about topics I really don't much care about. However, this method will still allow you to freely consume what I have to say to whatever measure you care to do.

In the end, this methodology (I think) gives equal respect to both the author AND the reader.


Go ahead, press this button.

(You don't have to accept - but press it. You know you want to!)

6 Days 2 Go... ...

I started going long on my Facebook posting and I realized that it was not a "post", it was a story. So I shall begin...


Had a very interesting morning. First, I did not sleep until 4AM and slept till 7AM. Nice bright and fully refreshed. I then started my day by doing my morning light "Police Call" at the Somersworth VFW Post. While I was out there the VFW "watcher" asked me if I could half-staff the flags. So I did and then I noticed that the flag at the Somersworth City Hall was at full staff. So I waited in the VFW until City Hall opened and then went to the City Clerk's office.

She looked up and asked me how could she help me. I responded, "I think I can help you." She took a deep breath and said, "What, again?" See on Sept 11th I met her for the first time when I pointed out that the flag was at full staff. So she reached for a phone and that is when I found out that the City doesn't have someone in a position for such matters. So I piped up, "You won't be upset if I go do it, will you?" She was shocked at the idea and then she smiled, "Sure!" So on the 6th day till my 1 year TBI anniversary I got to lower the Somersworth flag to half-staff.

As an added bonus, I have set an appointment with the clerk that I will be there to raise it to full-staff on this coming Monday. That is one week after the Washington D.C. tragedy and it complies with President Obama's good & just presidential order. In added measure, that will be the day of my 1 year mark after my accident.

On Sept 23, 2012 I woke up early in the morning, kissed my wife farewell as she slept, and then drove down to Boston for the 2012 Hub On Wheels event. That morning something happened. Most people express that day was bad. I don't. That was the luckiest day of my life. It was not a good day, no siree bob, however given the choices "Life" was the one that the Lord made available to me. It was a very blessed day.

So in commemeration of that event, I will also be the hand(s) that raise the Somersworth flag to full staff.

A friend recently asked me about my reasons and designs on the things that I do. I told him I do nothing for plain face value. Everything I do is for two or more reasons, always. However whenever I find something with three unprovoked, by me, reasons I do it and I do it right. That is when I know that the Lord has my poor soul within his designs. Three, trinity, Father; Son; and the Holy Ghost.

How can I avoid that?