I jumped through hoops to get my full medical records from St Vincent's Hospital Melbourne. I started looking through them.
I was feeling low and a bit grumpy as I scrolled down. I got to this. This is what happened that night when I was rushed into surgery. I read the first few lines and stopped. I couldn’t take anymore.
I rebelled.I was eating healthily
NO
I ordered a food delivery of popcorn and Nutella
I was meant to go and start making dinner
NO
I went up to sit in bed and play Candy Crush on my phone
I emailed Paul who was downstairs working and told him what I was doing
He came and put his head round the door – what’s going on?
My life is fucked
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Everyone else is carrying on with their lives and look at me, sitting here
What can I do I’ve tried for fucking years
I can’t get a job
I’m stuck in this fucking place
One single moment changed my life and I can’t even remember it happening
What about the CCTV in the bar, they’ll still have it on film
P – no they won’t
Why the fuck not? They couldn’t find it, isn’t that a bit suspicious?
P – they’ll have taped over it
Fuck off
I need to remember it happening
P – why?
Don’t know I just want to
P – you can’t
Yes I can it’s in there somewhere (jabbing my forehead with my finger)
P – probably not though
Yes it is I read it somewhere. I’m just not conscious of it
P - hmmm
Now is clearly a time to talk about disinhibition, which is what you’re reading here. I have a choice – take it down or explain, so I’m doing the explaining…
I’ve heard many times from my psychologist how disinhibition is a common effect of TBI - I myself struggle to know what’s saying too much. I’ve overstepped the mark a few times and haven’t realised until afterwards. And then had to mop up the effects of it.
But on this page, I’ve told myself to write the real thing. That’s not necessarily the carefully honed posts with nice pictures, but also the tough, awkward, angry things too. The real thing. If that doesn’t appeal then please simply scroll down, that’s no problem x
Comments