Skip to main content

"Bond. James Bond."

In college, I was introduced to philosophy and psychology. Freud and "Ego, the Id, and the Super Ego." The fundamental notion that "l think, therefore I am" by Rene Descartes.

But, what happens when you do not know your name? If you do not know your name, the word "Mark" is nothing. And, "Dunham?" What is a "Dunham."

When my stroke happened, "I could think, therefore I as was a conscious being" but I had no clue about my name.

"Bond. James Bond." I could have been named James Bond for all I knew.

In the hospital, everyone was telling me that "I am Mark Dunham. Mark Patrick Dunham." I had no reason to doubt my family, friends, doctors, and therapist, but I was not capable to understand the connection between language, letters, and my name.

I could not conceive what the alphabet was even if I could understand my name.

In the initial days of my therapy, the therapists would firmly try to connect the dots. What is the "alphabet?" What do those symbols mean? Before I could think about my name, I had to remember letters.

Those early frustrating days when I could remember "A" and "Z" but nothing in between. At the same time, the therapist were trying to connect me with anything. Over and over they would say "comb, hammer, tooth brush, etc." Days passed. Over and over.

This was one the hardest things I have ever experienced.

I cried because I could not say, express, and remember my families names. I blocked out my name. All I wanted to do was to remember "Heather" and "Ethan." I realized that they were my wife's and my son's names, but the concept of the "letters" of "Heather or Ethan" were simply gone.

One day when I cried, I begged one of the therapists to print flash cards saying "Heather and Ethan."

I practiced a lot, and I realized in my head that "H, E, A" had common letters.

Then, the "comb" and the "hammer" struck a chord in me. My dad had a black comb. My brothers and my grandfathers were carpenters.

It was fuzzy at best, but it was a glimmer of hope for me. "Heather. Ethan. Dad. Comb. Hammer. Brothers." Letters. Words. Concepts.

It was so slow going. ABCD.....XYZ. Filling in the blanks. Over months.

"Mark." What is a "Mark." I should have had a better name!

Just a glimmer. "I AM Mark Dunham." My identity is "Mark Dunham."

As the months progressed, I remembered the alphabet in stages. Even know, the letters "P" and "K" are odd to me. It took me months to comprehend "Patrick," my middle name. I walk a lot, and say over and over "Mark Dunham" and the alphabet.

It is getting so much better.

But, numbers are a different story! Or a different blog post.






Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Same as it ever was

When I had my two strokes more than 13 years ago, I was 50 years old. In the ensuing years I’ve had some health issues related to my strokes and other assorted “age related” things. In May of 2023, I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis. As a result I have endured two years of pain and the resulting lack of exercise. That summer I tried to walk regularly but my heel pain was too extreme. I tried to do exercises to relieve the pain but nothing helped. In September of 2023 I asked my doctor to give me a shot of Cortizone. We were headed to Boston for meetings and then headed to Maine. I just wanted to enjoy the trip without pain. It helped a lot. Six months later I had the same pain. I went to an orthopedic doctor who prescribed minor physical therapy. It worked for a bit and then the pain got worse. In September of 2024, my regular doctor gave me another round of Cortizone shots so I could travel to Phoenix. It really helped. For a while. In February of 2025, the pain got worse. I went ...
Post a Comment
Read more

January

January 10th was the 13th anniversary of my first stroke. After 18 days in the hospital (including my second massive stroke were I lost almost everything) we celebrated my son’s seventh birthday. I wanted to celebrate my son‘s birthday but I had no idea the sensory overload would cause. The flashing lights, the unbearable noise of the crowds and the music, and loud conversations caused me to panic. In the midst of my brain damaged confusion, I had to go to the bathroom. At that point I really didn’t know how to navigate the restaurant even though I had been there many times. I didn’t know the concept of letters and I didn’t know what “men” and “women” were on the doors. My little son gripped my hand and said, “Daddy… I will take you to the bathroom.” Stumbling through the crowded restaurant I was scared. My son guided me to the proper door and asked if I needed any more help. After I finished I came out and he grabbed my hand and took me back to the booth. In January this year, We cele...
Post a Comment
Read more

Brain damage and social media

Recently I deactivated my Facebook account. I needed a time out to consider my options. There are so much vitriol in the political world and often it is spread by Donald Trump, MAGA, and Fox News. I understand that everybody has a different opinion. Even though I have been a Republican for decades, I cannot support nor understand Trump and his policies.  The reason I paused Facebook was for two instances where relatives of mine dismissed my concerns. I was disgusted when Trump pardoned all of the January 6th rioters. It was unconscionable for him to pardon people who assaulted and beat police officers. It’s ironic that the law and order party had no problems allowing police officers to be assaulted and beaten. Yet one of my relatives said that it was a peaceful protest and they should never have gone to jail. Another relative said that January 6 was staged like a Hollywood production. I was absolutely flabbergasted. Disgusting perspective.  In the midst of the confirmation bat...
Post a Comment
Read more