Flex Your Head
On the 20th anniversary of a traumatic brain injury, I look back with gratitude for the caretakers and the community that brought me back to life.
I.
After 20 years, I still can’t remember anything about the worst day of my life. I’ve pieced the story together from accident reports, witness statements, hospital records, and depositions from the subsequent lawsuit, so technically, I know what happened. Still, nothing about this story comes from direct memory.
According to the hospital invoice, it happened on the morning of Saturday, November 1, 2003. According to the calendar I kept, I had just moved from a small apartment in the Temescal area of Oakland to a literal dream home in West Oakland the day before, and the only thing I had to do that day was pick up the bike I’d left chained in front of my old place. According to context clues, it was a pleasant day out, so I decided to throw some headphones on and walk over. According to police reports, I was literally across the stree…