My cast was fun for the first few days when everyone wanted to sign it and friends offered to carry my books. But it didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off. Within weeks it was dirty and stinky and I had to shove a pencil down inside it to satisfy the itch that lived inside there day and night.
I wore the cast for 6 weeks and when it came off my arm was as good as new. No one talked about the accident anymore, it was old news. And besides, there were lot’s of other stories to occupy our interest.
For Halloween, someone (well, we all knew who it was, but pretended we didn’t) had drug an old outhouse to the front door of the school and tied a chain around and through it and then through the handles of the front door so that you couldn’t open the doors and you couldn’t budge the outhouse. The icing on the cake was that they hung a dead raccoon by its foot from the ceiling of the outhouse.
I didn’t actually see the raccoon, and I am glad I didn’t. It makes me sad to think of it hanging there. But I thought it was an exquisite act of rebellion and I was thrilled with the power we had to make the adults shake their heads and roll their eyes in disgust.
There was also a scandalous love triangle that had us all enthralled. Debra was a senior, Ritchie a junior, and Colleen was a sophomore. Debra and Ritchie had been dating for over a year, but Colleen had eyes for Ritchie and rumor had it that they had been seen together more than once. Colleen was popular and beautiful, with fine china doll features. She was always nice to me, but that didn’t keep me from disliking her. All in all, she was just too perfect.
To think about it now I realize this triangle had all the drama and heartbreak of a Shakespeare play. Ritchie went back and forth between the two girls several times. Debra would become despondent; some said she threatened to commit suicide. When Ritchie was with Colleen, Debra walked around with red swollen eyes everywhere she went. And when they were back together, her eyes were dry, but still had that scared, desperate look of a woman who knows she is on borrowed time.
Meanwhile, Colleen remained calm, cool and collected. When Debra and Ritchie were together, Colleen would smile sweetly and go on about her business. She seemed to carry herself with a knowing air of confidence, with a certainty that it was only a matter of time before Ritchie realized the error of his decision and left Debra for good. In the end, she was right.
It was against this backdrop of scandal that my own drama began to unfold. For several days, I had been feeling a persistent ache behind my eyes. Bright light made them hurt and I was having trouble focusing my vision. I’d told my parents about it, and they had been concerned, but we hadn’t gone to the doctor yet.
I was practicing basketball in the gym after school. Volleyball had just ended, and we had just started practicing basketball. We had the same coach for both sports and the girls remained the same as well, so really we just traded one ball for another.
At any rate, we’d been running drills for about half and hour when I started to feel myself get lightheaded. I shook it off and ran another drill. As I waited in line with the other girls for my next turn, I felt everything go white. I tried to say something to Diane, the girl standing next to me, but before I could open my mouth, I felt myself melting to the floor.
That fall is something I will remember my whole life. It was the most natural, relaxing thing in the world. Like my whole body had turned to butter and just melted to the floor. I must have hit the ground hard, but I didn’t feel any pain. I could hear what was going on around me, could sense the commotion, but I was in a far, far away place, as dreamy as any I had ever imagined.
I opened my eyes, but couldn’t see anything. Everything was black. I tried to speak, but no words came out. I didn’t mind. I would stay in that dreamy place for as long as I could. I heard Coach Gillespie say for someone to call the EMTs. My parents were EMTs so I knew they would be coming soon. I knew something was wrong, I could feel that the right side of my body was trembling, but I was so relaxed, so comfortable, that I didn’t care.
Angela’s mom showed up after a few minutes. She was an EMT too. I had always liked Angela’s mom. She was cool and hip and when Angela and I were kids she used to let us listen to her Mac Davis album over and over and over. Angela’s mom told me that I was going to be just fine and that my Mom & Dad would be there soon and that they were going to take me to the hospital in Larned. I tried to nod my head ok, but the movement was lost in the waves of bliss in which I was absorbed.
The trembling in my right side got stronger and I could feel my arm and leg twitching against the floor. The rhythm of the motion felt good, but I remember wondering why the right half of my body was so active when the rest of me felt drenched in molasses.
My parents came then and they put me in the back of our car and we drove to the hospital in Larned. I still couldn’t see, and didn’t want to talk, and my right side was still trembling, but I was less dreamy and I was aware of everything that was going on around me. As the dreaminess began to fade, my head began to hurt, an intense throbbing pain that felt like nothing I had ever experienced.
The doctor examined me and told my parents I likely had epilepsy. He thought I had probably just experienced a grand maul or a petite maul seizure. Of course, I had no idea what a grand maul or petite maul seizure meant, but I knew enough to know epilepsy was not a good thing to have.
I spent the next several days in the hospital. My vision returned, I was able to speak again, and the trembling stopped, but my head hurt so badly that I couldn’t bear to open my eyes. I was moved to the hospital in Great Bend, and then on to the hospital in Wichita as one doctor after the next tried to figure out what was wrong with me.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the doctors in Wichita didn’t think I had epilepsy. Instead, they suspected I had a brain tumor. My parents never let on that there was anything seriously wrong, and strangely, I didn’t think to ask. Despite the fact that I had the mother of all headaches, I was enjoying the attention and the adventure of my hospital stay. My room was filled with balloons and flowers and posters, and a tidy stack of cards from my friends and neighbors was delivered to my room each day. I mostly slept and watched TV, which was, for a teenager, more or less the pinnacle of life.
I figured out that if I laid perfectly still, or moved very slowly, I could keep my head ache in check, but if I tried to sit up, or move around, waves of nausea would wash over me, I would start to see colors, and the whole right side of my body would start shaking again.
I was sent for a CAT scan, and while waiting for the test, I noticed that several of the kids in the waiting room had their heads shaved. This alarmed me. I had long blonde hair and was not too keen on having it shaved off. My parents assured me that it was unlikely that I would have to have my head shaved, but it was then that I realized that these other kids were really sick, and that my little adventure might be more serious than I had realized.
Luckily, at about that time, I started to get better. The headaches began to subside and the “seizures” seemed to stop. But still, no one knew what was wrong with me.
I had an EEG test, where they hooked wires up to my scalp and flashed strobe lights in my face to measure the way my brain waves reacted. My results were abnormal, but not in any sort of normal way. My Dad said he had known this much all along.
I got to go back home and back to school, where I learned that I had been dropped from drivers ed class because I was deemed an unsafe driver, prone to seizures. Our drivers ed teacher was also the football coach, and to this day I remember him as arrogant and cocky, with a pervasive case of short man syndrome.
I had a couple more stays in the hospital as they tried to determine a diagnosis. They finally decided to call my condition a “migraine equivalent” brought on by trauma to the head. (my pick-up accident)
I was given a prescription for an anti-convulsant and an anti-depressant and told not to drink alcohol under any circumstances. I suffered a few more “attacks” but for the most part, I was fine.
Life went on.
Sunny replaced her pick-up. I got to finish drivers ed in the spring. The boy who was responsible for the raccoon and the outhouse set a smoke bomb off in his locker, just for fun. And Ritchie gave Colleen his class ring to wear on her perfect, slender, creamy white ring finger.
In my 20’s I dreamed of trading my Honda CRX for an SUV. I planned to load up the back with camping gear and books and blank journals. Not just a few books, but hundreds of books. And lots of blank journals too. I’d make my way into southern Utah and spend months and months driving and camping and reading and writing. I’d find the perfect spot, park and camp and hike for a few days, read a book or two, fill a bunch of pages in my journal, then move on and do the whole thing over again. 
In my 30’s I dreamed of sailing away to a tiny island. I would live in a thatched hut with mosquito netting covering my bed and spend a few hours each day working with the owner of the only café on the island, serving umbrella drinks to locals and tourists. I would still have my books and journals, and maybe some paints and brushes as well and I would spend most of my days reclined in a canvas chair beneath the shade of a palm tree gazing at the crystal blue waters. In this dream there is always a fat, furry black & white cat that rubs around my ankles as I sit reading.
Today, I dream of going to an Ashram to study yoga and meditation. I see Buddhist prayer flags outside my door, their fluttering the only sound that interrupts the silence. Still my books and journals are there, and maybe some sculpting clay as well. I spend my days stretching and strengthening my body and stilling my mind. My muscles get long and strong, my breathing deep, and my mind, so very peaceful. 
