Two nights ago I apparently entered a woman’s house thinking it was my own. When asked who I was as I went straight to what I thought was my bedroom (she was actually extremely cool about it. Better than I would have been) I couldn’t answer her really and could only say “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this. I have epilepsy. I can’t do this” but I was lucid enough to remember Nick Inlow‘s phone number so he went and got me and he explained everything to her. In the mean time she was hugging me and telling me everything would be alright. I’m glad there are still good people like her in the world. I really appreciate her kindness. There are so many ways last night could have turned against me.
Hilarity of early dementia aside (like that’s funny…) this is really serious.
I don’t even remember how I got to that neighborhood. Or why I was walking. All I remember is walking while looking at the stars and thinking about how beautiful my life still is (irony?) when my ankle did its famous collapsing trick and I fell heavily on my left side and I’m pretty damn sure I lost a shoe. I don’t have a surface bruise but I do have one deeper into “the meat” of my thigh and it hurts whenever any weight is put on it. So, you know, it just hurts all the time.