The harsh whirr making its way around the sides of my head echoes in my ears.  It sounds just like the drill they used during my surgery. The razor brushes up against my plates and screws. It makes its way up and over the bumps as if this is a motocross race, surmounting one ramp after another. The noise paralyzes me. it’s ok, though, because I’m used to it now. It has been almost two years since my brain surgery, and I still have flashbacks. They used to last for what felt like hours, but now they are only momentary. These flashbacks serve as a reminder of how far I have come, as well as how far I still have to go. I do not expect these flashbacks to ever fully dissipate, and that is ok. Of all of the things I have hope for, this is not one of them. I hope to fully regain my working memory capabilities. To regain all of my old vocabulary. To regain all strength on my right side completely, all of the time. These flashbacks keep me grounded in a sense. They are a way of telling me that the hardest part of my life is over.

I forget about the sound until the next time.



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