The little man

What a beautiful day? It was sunny and at least I am happy. Maybe is it the fact that I am running on 5 hours sleep, and punch drunk happy. With my brain injury, I need at least 10-12 hours a night and a nap in the afternoon. I guess it is to download more information on my hard-disk. Or perhaps it is like a little man with a can of “Bondo” trying to spackle in the holes in my brain. I tell people that with them a little less sleep means they end up kind of spacey, but with me it means confusion and inability to form any words. So, when I am under any pressure or trauma, I virtually cannot speak anything intelligible. Which reminds of the time when I called the police to report a crime in my own business, where two guys distracted me, which was easy and made off with my hand-held computer. I called the regular police number not 911, and they showed up about an hour later. While telling them what happened, in my stroke impaired voice, they immediately said, "You are drunk." That only added insult to injury, and making it even harder to speak because I was so mad. Floored that I had to explain that I while I am at work, and it would be foolish to be drunk. They did not even have the skills to see if my pupils were not dilated and eyes clear, so they seemed so stupid. Later I filed a police complaint, and saw a judge and commission board six months later. The judge came out and concluded it was my duty to warn them that have a stroke. I told him if I say when I first call in to dispatch they hang up, thinking I have the wrong number. If I tell them in person they(the ignorant police, in this case) would think I am hiding something, and I can’t win. That experience was one more indication that I need to meditate and learn Buddha’s teachings, because it was a test. Later I found a well-written brain injury plastic card from Great Britain that I carry around. Of course when I show it now, people immediately get mute unable to figure out what to do next. Just chill!