Monday, November 19, 2007

Annie Dent.

I have an Annie Dent. That's what they call it on the Brain Aneurysm Foundation's message board. (see link in my sidebar, if you are so inclined) I don't post there, but I do read it every once in a blue moon. Someone described the dent in his/her (I don't remember) temple, and others chimed in - they call it an Annie Dent. I have a pronounced one - as my head healed it got more pronounced. I am glad to be female, it's easy to disguise it with bangs. But damn, it is impressive - if I had a matching one on the other side I could play a Star Trek-type alien every Halloween.

And I don't mind it at all. I kind of like having a visual, daily reminder of how lucky I am to be alive. Because it's easy to forget, when the bullshit of life starts getting you down, that being alive and healthy is a fan-damn-tastic thing and not to be taken for granted. We all take it for granted, life is so full of things that are impossible to appreciate, when standing knee-deep in the overflowing toilets of everyday life it takes a conscious effort to just be glad to be alive and fully functional.

I'm feeling much more like my old self lately, the fatigue is easing up and even the short term memory issues aren't as pronounced. So I'm actually sort of glad to have the Annie Dent, because it reminds me that a real life Dr. McDreamy used a real saw to cut a real piece out of my real skull to fix what was busted in there, and he did an outstanding job and I must treat myself well and take care of myself, because his excellent handiwork should not be wasted on someone who doesn't appreciate how freaking amazing it was. As time passes the whole world turning dark/legs folding up/collapsing on the floor/helicopter ride/surgery/falling on my ass because my legs didn't work/being unable to see US magazine when my kids brought me magazines/swirly colors when I closed my eyes/crazy hospital things followed by coming home to weeks of needing 4 naps a day and being too weak to stir a pan of Rice Krispie Treats, the details of the whole thing are starting to fade into a dream: "Did that really happen?" and then I look in the mirror at the Annie Dent at my left temple. Yes, it really did.

Whenever I get the urge to whine about all of the things that are definitely whine-worthy, the housing market, my job instability, my nutty mother, and the whole crazy tapestry of the last 6 years of my life, which have had more unsolicited drama than most people can ever imagine, I look in the mirror. Damn, I'm so lucky.


rho said...

I have a great dent too but mine was from running to the door to greet my dad when I was little and having head hit door HARD -- It shows up more when I don't feel well.

Much rather have my dent than your dent though

Bess said...

You aren't the only lucky one, sweetie. It suddenly hit me - what life would be like without a Catherine and her bossy dog...and it was - it was just horrible.

so - take good care of our catherine or we'll come down and smack you up side the head....the other side. :D:D:D:D

Yes. open up to the good stuff onacounta you don't want to be talking to St. Peter - you're looking for St. Joseph.

vi said...

well kid you already know what i think, the world still has a catherine sized space cause you are needed here- you got a LOT to do yet

the cool thing about life is
as we go on through it
we carry all the little memories ON and in our bodies
little scars, a freckle here, a dent there
sort of our own little walking scrap book of our lives
even how we SLEEP shapes us

so someone with acute observation powers can read your body like a book of your life


who probably needs to learn to drink to make any sense