The Day My Brain Exploded: A True Story
Ashok Rajamani
Language: English
Pages: 270
ISBN: 1565129970
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
After a full-throttle brain bleed at the age of twenty-five, Ashok Rajamani, a first-generation Indian American, had to relearn everything: how to eat, how to walk and to speak, even things as basic as his sexual orientation. With humor and insight, he describes the events of that day (his brain exploded just before his brother’s wedding!), as well as the long, difficult recovery period. In the process, he introduces readers to his family—his principal support group, as well as a constant source of frustration and amazement. Irreverent, coruscating, angry, at times shocking, but always revelatory, his memoir takes the reader into unfamiliar territory, much like the experience Alice had when she fell down the rabbit hole. That he lived to tell the story is miraculous; that he tells it with such aplomb is simply remarkable. More than a decade later he has finally reestablished a productive artistic life for himself, still dealing with the effects of his injury—life-long half-blindness and epilepsy— but forging ahead as a survivor dedicated to helping others who have suffered a similar catastrophe.
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Have thought they would ask. Then again, tact and I have always been strangers. At the reception, however, a couple of guests finally asked the obvious. “Where’s your mom anyway? And your brother? Why couldn’t they be here?” “They couldn’t make it,” was Prakash’s blunt answer. Simple, yet stern enough to prevent any further dialogue on the subject. As she had promised, Mom had left right after the wedding ceremony. When she arrived at the hospital, the sari was gone. Hello, jeans and a.
Word. Dad yelled for Kathy-Kate, who had lost her earlier charm completely by ignoring us throughout our dining experience. “Excuse me!” he boomed, “Kathy-Kate, we need your assistance!” Smiling as if she never left our side, she walked to the booth. “How’s everything, Shug?” “My son has made a bit of a mess. We need some extra napkins and some more water.” Her eyes widened at the sight of the mayhem. “No!” I yelled defensively as the other patrons watched. “I’m fine, I can clean this up!”.
They could do it, so could I. I’m going day swimming too, without a top! It turned out all my fears were pointless. The beach had a European sensibility: The men had hair on their shoulders and backs. The women had tits hanging to their calves. No body-conscious people in sight; they were all topless. I was pleased. We should all live as God intended us to. I wondered why America—and the Brazilian wax community—didn’t feel the same way. Shameless in our lack of clothing, my parents and I.
There’ll be no scar. And without the scar, there is little chance that Ashok will continue having seizures.” We didn’t want to follow him further. “It would be a quick surgery. He’d only have to be in the hospital for four weeks.” My parents said we needed to discuss it. Dr. Clark suggested I check into the hospital anyway for a three-night stay, so he could fully check my brainwaves and classify my type of epilepsy. But I was so disturbed by the thought of the lobotomy, or lobectomy, or.
Better than to argue with her. “How can we help? We’ll do anything,” Sunita Aunty said. “Just do one thing,” Mom said. She looked all of them in the eye, one by one. “I won’t be there for the reception. Promise me you’ll act like surrogate parents and keep Prakash and Karmen in an upbeat mood.” They all nodded. At that point, Dad got up and announced, “I will be missing the reception, too. I have to be there for Ashok.” “Absolutely not,” Mom responded angrily. “Prakash needs at least one.