[TW: this post discusses medical trauma]
There are a lot of forms I have to fill out about when I “became” disabled. These are government forms, and they relate specifically to when I officially became unable to produce “substantial gainful activity” and a lot of other very complicated things. I am so used to having to produce this number for bureaucracies and on forms and every time Medicare asks me something that I can spit it out (mostly) without thinking, unless I have aphasia in which case it takes me longer to come up with the words.
Aphasia me can’t come up with the words for the year, so I have to work around them. I was twenty. I was born in another year, so if we add those two numbers together, we get the year. It was autumn. I look at someone near me, eyebrows raised. This…
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a coherent heart 