Hearted Youtube comments on Well, I Never (@WellINever) channel.
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I've instantly subscribed, due to your ability to expound (with depth and compassion) about a PERSON [not merely a Case Study] who suffered radical hardships, yet prevailed, in any form.
Well-done... and thank you.
I've had a closed-head trauma which caused some neurological changes [READ: "reconfigurations"], and have experienced the personality-and-ability alterations which are common to such events. My family has been grand, throughout; and for that, I am profoundly-grateful.
While I escaped the form or degree of emotional lability which would provide for violent or angry outbursts (quite the contrary, actually. I am now more-prone to humour; and can find comedy in almost anything - a definite departure from the .. erm... ever-so-slightly neurotic, LIFETIME DEPRESSIVE/ANXIETY-LADEN state that I had previously "enjoyed"), the experience of having to observe me, and to offer aid, as I relearned how to walk, talk, and... everything else that adults do... was terrifying and slightly-grueling for my family. There was a family joke which was shared with me a few months-in that, if I had dropped any items, or were trying to retrieve anything from the floor, I very-much resembled "a giraffe at a watering-hole". I'm 190.5 cm/6'3". The description made me laugh, heartily - and still does.
Frankly, while I've lost-a-step (literally: My balance-functions are diminished), the list of unexpected and, frankly, amazing new sensory abilities I've developed are a fair trade-off for any diminishments.
My ability to easily-switch between languages (polyglot here, with three mastered "foreign" languages) has been affected, which leads me to substitute various alternatives of words from different lexicons (aphasia is a standard symptom of such injuries); or to be unable to find the correct name or word; or to 'slip'-into French, for a few hours at a time. I can understand what I'm hearing, but cannot respond in English. Glad my family all speaks French, but this new feature DOES present certain complications (like, when I want to speak Spanish, but get locked into French; oh, the expressions on peoples' faces).
For example: I cannot seem to, organically, retrieve the word: 'lawnmower'; instead, substituting the word: 'vacuum' - to the great amusement of all (myself being at the top of that list). "I'm going to vacuum the lawn"; or: "The lawn REALLY needs vacuuming!" are phrases that even my grandchildren immediately translate. Hysterically-incorrect malapropisms abound. The other day, I tried to explain that: "I wished to paint the ceiling in the dining room", but couldn't find the word for 'ceiling'. An odd phenomenon is that, whenever I experience this sort of aphasia, it always takes TWO attempts to get to the proper word. During this event, the first substitution was: "COELACANTH" - a fish which still exists, but was erroneously thought to have become extinct somewhere in the Late Cretaceous Period. Raucous laughter ensued... and it took me five minutes to arrive at the ACTUAL, simple, everyday word. This type of occurrence is regular/daily.
I developed a MASSIVE stutter to rival that of late American Country & Western Singer, Actor, and Comedian, Mel Tillis (his speech affect is exactly what I sounded like) which progressed through a more 'Porky Pig' affect, which, eventually, subsided to being only an occasional occurrence.
But, when it hits, it's a complete storm of a verbal bottleneck.
There's a set of 'weird' sensations within my brain, as I experience these 'spells' (which may last for several hours), and I am invariably left with a sense of neuro-exhaustion, and a cognitive "hangover", sometimes for a couple of days, accompanied by accentuated cognitive, balance, proprioception, and other coordination glitches
My sense of smell is enhanced to a degree where I can detect, from within our home, the fresh blooms of each variety, from the garden.
Accordingly, my sense of taste might rival that of a professional Sommelier (which is not to say that I was an insensitive lout prior; or that I know anything about the Art of Wine; only that this new Sensory Array Configuration is... nothing-short of remarkable, potentially-astounding, and always rewarding). I have always appreciated food; but to have such an enhanced ability to detect nuance is quite delightful.
Now, I am predominantly left-handed (whereas I'd experienced ambidexterity throughout my life. I golf 'left'; I batted 'left'; I surfed 'left'; but I wrote with my right-hand). I now realise that I was forced into this arrangement, unnaturally, in Primary School.
It wasn't my intention to prattle-on about myself, but here we are.
That being said, I'll include that my hearing is SO keen that I always carry sound-cancelling ear-plugs with me;
and music (my GOD! MUSIC!), having always been an important part of my life, is now as if I can deeply-feel every note and expressed emotion, to a point where "background" music is NOT in the background. I cannot parse more than one audio source at a time, which makes large gatherings [no worries; Thanks, CoViD?] an intense experience.
For almost two years, certain sounds brought with them an element of taste - though unpredictable and infrequently; this facet seems to have abated. How, exactly, does one explain that the song: 'And It Stoned Me' by Van Morrison "tastes like maple syrup"? without your listener presuming you to BE incredibly stoned?
My brain is inclined to parse random sounds of nature (the wind through trees; rain on the roof), or of the mechanical/man-made variety, as if there might be a linguistic component included... which is really quite fun (when it's not slightly-terrifying).
We HAD (I replaced it, quickly) an oven which had a squeaky hinge that we were unable to silence via any adjustments or chemical interventions; the cursed thing sounded like a screeching banshee: The sound frequencies of its malfunction struck-me in a primal sense, rendering me immobilised, with a side-effect of causing an adrenaline-dump. I've no other way to describe it.
I merely chalk all of these quirky sensations up to my neurology trying to extrapolate and interpret data in a novel way, as it forms new neuronal pathways (and not to any recognizable productive end, I might add). This effect can strike me anywhere: Traffic sounds are particularly intriguing. A truck's 'motor-brake' sounds like.. a motor-brake.. AND some sort of angry dinosaur.
It's a benign, curious phenomenon.
It wasn't my intention to be so self-centred here; it's just that I am, daily, stricken-by the miraculous neuroplasticity with which we've all been gifted; and by the fascinating science of Neurology - and how little we understand of it, in certain contexts.
How much of (what we refer to as) "IDENTITY" is naught but a complex brew/sequence of electrochemical processes and patterns?
I'm not the first to ponder this; it's just that I've been gifted with the unique opportunity to experience it - and to be blessed with the ability to diagram it (now that I've relearned how to 'speak'. Reading was an impossibility for two years; attempts at using a keyboard, or focusing-on any screen was challenging. Glad THAT passed. I can no longer handwrite, in-cursive), and am consistently grateful and humbled to be afforded such grace - if that doesn't belabour some lofty, spiritualist perspective.
Simply-put: I won the f*cking/bloody lottery somehow. I don't squander any part of my time here as I recognise the fragility of life, while being-afforded a generous reprieve.
I wish everyone who endures a T.B.I. could experience it like this.
It hasn't exactly been a cakewalk/stumble; my short-term memory has been decidedly affected for the worse; and am, thus-far officially 'unemployable' (don't count me out yet. Dogged-persistence is one thing I am possessed-of) but I CAN walk & talk, [after a fashion] most-days.
I know how fortunate I am.
Thanks for tolerating my impromptu, unsolicited TED Talk.
I like your channel.
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I spent 11 years with a wonderful wolfdog female. Only just under 50% wolf (dna verified by the only reputable test available to the public). She was amazing but absolutely had her limitations and "special needs", such as zoo-like enclosure. I always walked her in a muzzle- just in case any other loose dog was dumb enough to come at her, because she would never stand down from an argument and I knew if any other animal was ever hurt, no matter who started it, she would have got the blame. Nothing ever did happen, but this - along with other realities - had to be always considered because she was not quite the same as a regular dog. Our bond was like nothing else, and we spent a huge amount of time together playing and exploring and so on.
I say all this because I believe that under certain circumstances where an individual is educated, understands the needs and limitations of an animal, and has the means to properly provide a happy life for that animal, they can make wonderful companions (not pets though). However I personally can't imagine going as "deep" into the type of specialist care and needs that some of the more "extreme" exotics would have, such as Chips, Tigers, and so on. Perhaps folks that want to interact frequently with those super strong animals should pursue a career in zoology and try to find work as a special zookeeper.
Just my 2 cents.
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