It has been years since I’ve been alive.
My life was going well. Or so I thought. Good education, wife, three kids, good job in the aviation industry.
Then it all came crashing down. A genetic blood disorder kicked in and I suffered a series of strokes. My speech became slurred and my eyes wouldn’t focus. The world outside began to take on bizarre shapes.
Something funny was going on inside my head. Although I felt fine overall, I couldn’t let anyone see me this way. So I quit my job and just sat around the house.
Everyone in my life was essentially gone. My wife was always at work. My children acted like they hardly knew me. Friends and acquaintances no longer called.
However, I did have strong will to survive. What I needed was help and rehabilitation.
My good buddy, Steve, told me an old lady friend was living nearby, working as a therapist or something. He gave me her number which he found in an old reunion booklet.
An old lady friend from high school. Ah, the memories! She was the first girl I had ever danced with. But she was a stunningly beautiful blond who I felt would only break my heart. So we wound up being just friends.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I call her? What would I say? How will she react with me sounding this way?
I steeled my nerve and dialed her number. Fortunately, she was delighted to hear from me. We ended up talking for hours and she invited me to visit her home.
A few days later, I pulled up in her driveway. She greeted me with a big smile and a warm hug. A welcome relief to my tired bones after a journey of three hundred miles.
She was shocked to learn of my ordeal. But over tea in her kitchen, she was determined to help get my life back in order. I immediately began to feel a healing reassurance in her presence. She was a true professional with the training and tools to remedy my sad situation.
Our kitchen reunion turned into quite the project. I took a few personality tests and made out lists of life goals while she researched specialists in speech pathology, cognitive therapy and medical psychiatry.
We had a lot of fun in the process. Going out for dinners, theater shows and sporting events while laying out the groundwork of my rehabilitation. We formed a friendship much closer than that of our high school years.
It was like a long and pleasant dream. But after six months our project was finished and the dream came to an end. It was time for me to return home and rebuild my life.
Rebuild my life. A noble quest but a tough challenge.
Neurologists subjected me to a dizzying array of brain scans, MRIs and psycho-motor evaluations. Psychologists probed me with Rorschach tests, IQ exams and spot memory quizzes. Then they sent me to a doctor who prescribed all kinds of drugs. Zoloft, Ritalin, Prozac, Adderall, Wellbutrin and others I’d never heard of.
There were countless sessions with speech therapists. Working the vowel sounds, hitting the consonants just right. At times I felt I was back in kindergarten. Learning to speak all over again.
The medical facility my lady friend recommended gave me the full course treatment. My head got shrunk, examined, evaluated, electroded, medicated, refrigerated and then re-expanded so the process could begin again.
Over time I began to see some improvement. At least from what they were telling me. My IQ went from 90 to 127. I could now grasp concepts and ideas which had previously been a confused mess. My once befuddled mind was being sharpened.
The world outside was changing too, slowly but surely becoming a more inviting place. Bizarre shapes were disappearing. Long lost memories were returning. The doctors even said I could get them all back.
I was so happy with my progress that I made plans to go back to college. Figured I might as well make use of my new learning capabilities. The future looked bright. I could go on to get a Master’s Degree and be as good as new!
I even thought about flying again. But I was still a bit of a wreck mentally with all the medication I was taking. Could I pass the flyer exam? Not likely.
My physical health was not the greatest but I did have some free time. I figured a bit of travel would do me some good. So I persuaded my lady friend, the one who sent me to the shrinks, to take a trip with me to the west coast.
We visited an old buddy in Washington State. It was quite the fun reunion since they’d been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school. A merry time of drinks, laughs, and reminiscing while touring the grand scenery of the mountains and San Juan Islands.
It felt great to revisit old friends with my new found confidence. I returned home, refreshed and ready to take on the world.
First order of business was education. What would be my course of study? Would it be teaching? Or would something in the natural sciences field be more practical?
There was also my personal life to contend with. Or the lack of one. Since my divorce two years ago it had been the big zippo. De Nada. Nothing.
I was in desperate need of a girl friend! The type I could be intimate with. Although the internet chat rooms looked promising, nothing could beat the social life on a college campus. Problem was all those cute coeds were only half my age. Plus teachers weren’t allowed to date students.
An interesting prospect did pop up on a singles web site. A lady in Eastern Europe who taught at middle school. We exchanged emails and became pen pals. I sent her a book relating some local New England history while she sent me photos of her family, friends and students.
After a few months she invited me over. I located her home country on the atlas. Ukraine. Terrific! I could check out a potential girlfriend and satisfy my Geography for Teachers project with a vacation over spring break.
Eastern Europe had always seemed like heaven to me. Old beautiful and culturally well preserved. I had always dreamed I would travel there.
The dream came true. Capital city of Kiev. The heart of Eastern Europe. My pen pal in person was a stunning brunette with gleaming green eyes. Twenty years my junior! Someone I could never meet back home.
Events went by in a blur. Met her family and friends, did some sightseeing, some paperwork. My dream girl was eager to travel with me to America. More paperwork.
Dreams came true and events rushed on. In the blink of an eye I had a new life, a new wife, and a new-born child.
With my new education and scholastic honors, it was time for my next big adventure. My wife was learning English and also getting a degree. The economy was showing signs of improvement two years after the 9/11 attacks. Job prospects were looking good.
But not for new graduates as I found out. Scores of resumes and countless interviews failed to produce even a single offer of gainful employment. My new life was looking to be a serious struggle.
At this point I could only pray the doctors would finally find a cure for my strokes. The last thing I needed was for them to return, especially after all the shrink-wrapping my head had gone through.
I figured getting an MBA would better my chances in a tough job market. So I went back to graduate school. I jokingly told my wife I’d probably wind up being a professional student.
But something went haywire halfway through my first semester. I simply couldn’t concentrate. Not even for a short lecture. Words were confusing and writing was impossible. Books and homework went unread and undone.
It seemed my vaunted study habits had gotten up and left. Maybe they’d gone over to someone else. I didn’t know. But I did know things weren’t going right in the old noggin.
My worst nightmares were returning. I had to drop out of school and focus on finding work. Any old crappy job this time. Janitor, security guard, store clerk, didn’t matter.
But nothing doing. Got the yak-yak runaround from some about me being “over-qualified.” Most just said drop off a resume as in “get lost.”
There was no job and no school. By now my finances were fully depleted. I was stressing out big time. I figured I’d lost everything I’d gained.
Went back to the shrinks. They brought me back again by upping the meds and increasing the volts. But it was more bittersweet this time. The shrinks could juice me up but they couldn’t find me a job.
I stuffed my pride and applied for hundreds of lowlife positions. Seven Eleven soda jerk, government postal clerk, night shift at a slaughterhouse, even chamber maid at a sleazy motel.
Not one damn thing! It seemed like I was invisible.
I was starting to doubt myself. Right down to my very existence. It seemed everything I did went totally un-noticed. Like I was a complete blank. A non-entity.
Was tomorrow actually yesterday? Did I die and someone forgot to tell me? Was all this a dead man’s dream?
Maybe one of those strokes actually killed me. But here I was walking the earth thinking I was alive. When I was actually six feet under.
There had to be a reason why no one has seen me for such a long time. Had I fallen off the face of the earth? Friends would call but were they really calling someone else?
I had always thought of my life as a fairy tale. That I was capable of everything. I could achieve every goal and reach every plateau.
Had the whole thing been a dream? My life over the past thirty years? Has the dream finally come to an end?
What was I going thru? Was it heaven or hell or the place in between? I must have missed some clues along the way. Reality has escaped me.
It’s been several years since graduation. I’m having a hard time understanding what I graduated with. An advanced degree in what? Head hunters never return my calls. Job prospects are nil.
My four children realize something is wrong with their dad. I talk funny and I don’t remember things. I sit around the house all day and gaze at the television. I’m always losing my car keys.
Is this some kind of payback for all the good years? If so, will my luck ever change? Are my dreams real, or is reality my dreams?
My life has become empty and full at the same time. There can only be one reason. I must be dead!
If you do see me please let me know. Is it obvious to everyone except me where I am?
While walking on a crowded sidewalk the other day, I decided I should try to bump into someone just to see what would happen.
