I have come up with my own reason that’s realistic/objective
for this.
My idea is that I was in my best shape of my entire athletic
life, I remember that I had reached a body-weight below the standard charts
used to categorize high level athletes and the real reason why I survived my
accident is that my body weight, fitness level, muscles tone and heart strength
were above average for my age, that wasn’t advanced at all (42).
So my body rapidly recovered but for my brain nothing really
could be done, given that’s still a science in need to be fully developed, so
while my body wasn’t injured at all (8 years ago) my brain lost plenty neurons
in the motor cortex and right occipital lobe areas, that means that I’m now
hemi paretic on the left side of my body and have a field cut in my vision on
the left (again!).
I think that I went through all the stages of the “after
TBI” period as described in all the neurology text-books, aggressive and
violent period, suicidal period (2 times) and depressive (that I’m still trying
to take care of).
I’m still dealing however, with the complete refusal that a
brain cannot be healed or repaired when injured; I cannot believe that we went
to walk on the moon about 40 years ago and at the same time, we still have only
research hypotheses, but no established, proven therapy on what to do in cases
of TBI.
Too many times each day I ask to myself why am I still
living when for Michele I died in 2005 and my family in Italy I’m just a big
burden. Then I think – as everyone knows – to the real existence of God and
that we were given the brain that isn’t the product of evolution but the
receptor to be in touch with the creator of the universe, since the “big-bang”
and this concept makes me pity any doctor (sadly even Ph.D.) who believes to be
able to understand how someone thinks (uses the brain) when injured, in fact
I’m now imprisoned and cannot live with my own family only because one of these
“geniuses” assessed me as incapable to count to 3 and all of the money I’ve
ever earned in my honest life of work across continents at the highest
managerial levels is in the hands of a conservator who by age could be my
daughter while my (still) very beloved wife (mankind cannot separate what God
united) and mother of my treasures tries to survive with the little money I
must give to her according to the sorry and bad divorce we had to do and her
soon to end employment.
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