The Bloody Brain

I wrote about the bloody brain wreaking havoc on my life.

I speak of the onset of bloody brain, and I say “since the bloody brain.”

Recently, within days of returning from a visit to Israel, I told Judy, “If it weren't for the bloody brain I would go back tomorrow.”

I think of the bloody brain having betrayed me and my body. On the other hand, I also think of it with affection. I smile when I recall some of the funnier consequences of my poor short term memory or of my trouble processing input. In retrospect, I can laugh at the meltdowns I've experienced when I've been overwhelmed by high volumes of sensory input.

Though the bloody brain is very much a part of me and my life, I think of it as a separate entity. I first named it The Bloody Brain shortly after the brain bleeds. Back then, I grasped at anything that made my nightmarish situation tolerable, and humor was one of few resources I had at hand.

At some level, though more so in the past, guilt played a role in my recovery. Whenever the possibility of my children inheriting the disease came up, I felt guilty, even though I knew it didn't make sense. And when my younger sister was diagnosed with cavernous angiomas, I felt responsible. Perhaps personifying the bloody brain helped me manage the guilt by allowing me to assign blame to another being.

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Now that the rough patches are much fewer and farther between, referring to it as the bloody brain is more of a habit than anything else. Though the humorous side of the name continues to play a significant role in my life, especially on bad brain days.

Perhaps a title for my book  "The Bloody Bloody Brain" would be more appealing to those who are concerned with the marketability of a book entitled "The Bloody Brain." Perhaps not.