Without A Space

Warning: If recovering from a car accident, perhaps think twice before reading. Fictional but based loosely on a personal experience. I'm still recovering years later from a TBI.

The elementals are at work everywhere. Bringing and taking life as we know it, refashioning matter as nature sees fit. The ingredients of Prithvi (Earth), Vayu (Air), Agni (Fire), Jala (Water), and Akasha (Space) are powerful forces. Deemed liable that night for causing the earth shattering collision which lit the fiery spark, changing my primordial composition.

Weather, lack of visibility; an act of nature. Traveling through an intersection on a straightforward path through an innocuous green light, meager snowflakes danced in the air, squalls moments earlier. A car waited to turn left. Wheels far out into my field of vision, but stopped. Three cars went through before mine; I was last in line.

Suddenly, lights in my periphery forever burned into my memory, anticipating what was coming. I attempted to swerve, brake, then speed up, seeking escape from my fate. They smashed into my driver’s side, smack dab in the middle, making the cross on which I now lay.

It’s just as people say, in slow motion with space enough to think, “This is it. I’m going to die.”

The next discernable event was the lifting of my head, silence all around me except for the buzzing in my ears, eerie calm, watery hot liquid dripping from my nostrils. The light above remained green, then yellow. I tested the car's faculties; it moved, although reluctantly, grinding and creaking. Close to the corner of the intersection, it ground to a halt.

The rest of the world rushed forward as the light favoured opposing traffic, Christmas shoppers going about their business. To my dismay, cars honked and breezed the corner, inches from the mangled side of my vehicle. An obstacle to some, and others, imperceptible or ignorable, their thoughts and worries elsewhere.

Shouts for help. I realized, my own; head swimming into high gear, forgetting the location of the emergency lights, “Where are they? How could I've forgotten?”

Defeated, I searched my work bag on the passenger’s side floor for my phone. Mind changed, rearranged. I hunted for the hazard lights anew. Then repeated the madness, indecisive; swept up in the hurricane of chaos plaguing my brain. Sobbing breaths; teary rivers coming from my eyes. I wiped my nose, fire engine red streaks on my hands, rubbed on my pants, becoming a rusty brown colour.

A knock on the passenger's side glass; the other driver. Hands now clean, I rolled down the window, gathering myself. They found my emergency lights, reaching in and pushing the button invisible to me moments before, in its rightful place on the dash in plain view. I ignored this first clue, additional injuries deceptively and temporarily hidden.

Our hands both shaking, left thinking, “Must be the shock.”

Afterward, the driver apologized with a caveat, “You came out of nowhere. I couldn’t see you through the snow.”

The elements must be at fault, humans rarely responsible. They passed me their information; a whirlwind, then gone. My mistake? Not going to the hospital, in denial, anything was wrong. The following day, I went to a clinic, complaining about head and neck pain; numbness down one arm.

Recommending chiropractic and physiotherapy, the doctor finished with, “You’ll be fine to resume your regular activities in a few days.”

After a two-week holiday, I returned to work. Colleagues encouraged me to see another doctor, noticing I stared off into space and reacted out of irritation when students made noises. I wasn’t behaving normally. Lessons went unplanned. Using my emergency supply teacher stash, I struggled with basic math and reading. I concealed this all the best I could, but succumbed after I forgot my pin to the bank machine. Empty-handed, I entered my home, sank to the floor, my chest heaving with rapid gasps, rocking back and forth.

It took showing up to school with my night guard in mouth for me to stop and go to an occupational therapist. Three years later and I’m continuing to experience symptoms from the mild brain injury I sustained. "Mild" being a relative term used when your brain isn’t bleeding or punctured.

Many doctors chalked up the challenges I faced to anxiety from the accident, not able to tolerate light, for example. I understand to a degree as the last thing before unconsciousness was a pair of bright headlights; jerked awake countless nights after their reappearance. My screams, I still hear them in my dreams, but the scenarios are not exactly as the scene of the accident unfolded; nor do these visions happen while awake. No PTSD designation here.

Once the results of the SPECT Brain Scan arrived, the doctors who thought I might not enjoy working; paid attention while I appealed for referrals for more fringe treatments. Rebuilding my constitution, tolerances for light, sound, and stress increased. Volunteering and then working part time. I credit meditation and yoga for my progress by nurturing the five building blocks inside me, strengthening my body, mind, and spirit to face my greatest phobias.

No driving for over a year and once back on the road, I travelled through intersections with my hand covering the horn saying, “Please see me, please see me…” until safe; fires of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Similarly on foot, almost hit crossing the street wearing my red coat and carrying a rainbow umbrella, walking sign on display. Someone turning left every time, a comparable situation replicated to reinforce my fears.

“Maybe I'm slowly disappearing.” I thought.

Much like the old me, vanishing from sight. Driving through the world, I showed up grounded, patient and calm with an underlying fire. At present, the flames blaze uncontrolled, encouraged by the winds, transporting smoke that conceals me from myself. My inferno, too intense, led to a cooling of many relationships; though sparse, others grew intimate.

An airiness overtook me that night, memories faded away, gales changing direction, in need of space for grounding. Now, most people turn away, disability equals invisibility; without a trace if I can’t carve out space where I’m included.

I continue to chisel, my dusty remains twirl in the air, blown away.