Insight(full) or Empty?

"A moment's insight is sometimes worth a lifetime's experience." Oliver Wendell HOlmes Jr. (1841 - 1935)

I had an insight today. Should have written about it then, at the moment I noticed it. Now, I can't remember what the hell it was.

It had to do with....something...something important that I wanted to write about here. Something to do with brains and health and maybe cognition or energy or general health.

I lose so much now. I want it back. I want to find the place where all those lost thoughts are collected. If everything you experience is still locked somewhere in your brain, then they are there - somewhere. I just can't find them at the moment.

Things I was reading about today:

Neurontin and it's use with brain injury

Brain chemicals

GABA

Seborrheic Dermatitis

Local Social Services

I was hoping that remembering what I was researching might illuminate my lost insight. No such luck.

Today I encountered a semi crazy homeless man. My Dad was driving me (Miss Daisy) to appointments today since my fender bender Sunday night has left me with an extreme aversion to driving. So I had a Dermatologist appointment. My phone fell out of my purse when I was getting into the car after the appointment. We went back to retrieve it and as I was walking back to the car, I noticed a man, face down in the shrubbery.

I thought he was dead. Who lies face-down in mulch with their shins and feet sticking out into the parking lot?

Crazy homeless people, that's who.

I went to investigate, he woke up. We had a chat. He knew what town he was in, and told me that he was in the hospital (this was corroborated by the hospital ID band on his left wrist) and that he was homeless, and couldn't walk very well, and didn't know where to go.

Oy.

I tried to point out one of the local social services outlets which was about half a block away but he wasn't quite following. I told him I'd try to find help. He walked in a small circle in the parking lot, looked lost, then sat down on the curb again.

When I got home I made some calls. Sure enough, there was a male released from the hospital psych unit earlier in the day, but they couldn't give me any other info. I ended up calling the Crisis Line, and the operator referred me to the police call center. They said they would send an officer to check on him.

On some level I could relate to this man. His confusion, his utter defeat, when he simply looked around and, not knowing where to go or what to do, just sat back down on the curb - I understood that. Maybe that's what I wanted to write about.

And there's the magic click. It wasn't that at all - it was the link between brain injury specifically childhood brain damage and impulse control problems and violence. On Sunday night I stopped at a Burger King, don't judge, there were no better options. While I waited for my food I watched the young black man behind the line as he struggled to fill the orders. It was not busy, but he was clearly overwhelmed. An frazzled, older white man, who appeared to be the manager, was dashing back and forth from the cash register to the food station correcting the orders the young man had filled incorrectly and gently guiding him. I watched as the young man glanced back and forth between his order screen and the french fry bin. He filled a small fry container. He looked at the screen. He dumped out the fries and picked up a medium which he filled. He looked at the order screen, he dumped out the fries. He repeated this with EVERY SIZE FRY CONTAINER. Eventually, the manager went behind the line and whispered something to him, then he chose the medium size and filled it again.

The young man looked like he might have been a Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Baby. There's something in the eyes -too wide set, too vacant, that gives it away. Hell, he could have been a crack-baby, or just dropped on his head. But it was clear that the world of fast food prep was taxing his limited ability.

I thought about how difficult it is to lose ability, and how difficult it must be to have never had it in the first place. If you didn't know any better, would it make dealing with your disability any easier? Is it just as frustrating when everything is hard and it's always been that way? Or is it just life, what you're used to? Does this man know he's at a disadvantage? Does he care? Should we?

Then this morning, when reflecting upon how angry I was went the idiot who rear-ended me Sunday night said, as though it were nothing, "I just wasn't paying attention," I thought about how difficult it was for me not to whip out a tire iron and bash in the hood of his car. There have been so many instances since the accident when I was a hair's breadth away from violent altercations with people who pushed me to the edge of my patience. It occurred to me that I, at least, had a "normal" that I could refer to in moments of crisis. I could look back to my "before" as know that prior to the accident I would not have responded by wanting to throttle the offender into unconsciousness.

People who have had brain injuries as children do not have the luxury of a previous "normal". Their lack of impulse control is all they know. How much more difficult for them to learn appropriate emotional expression and conflict resolution?

That's what I wanted to write about. Sadly, I have no graceful ending for this entry. On some level I should rejoice in the fact that I did remember my original intent. At the same time, I can't stop wondering about the gentleman in the planter. He will probably fall between the cracks. He did not appear to be a danger to himself or others so hospitalization is unwarranted and he won't get a court ordered committal. There are no local homeless shelters. He was clearly in need of some sort of MH/MR intervention and assistance. Whether he will get it or not is anyone's guess.