These people have already called me a vegetable. It's been two days. I think. Don't know how long I was out for. Could've been an hour, two days, a month. Could've been a year. Cindy's hair definitely looks longer. And I am a vegetable already. This means they don’t talk to me. They talk about me. And I now hate the doctor. And my kids don't have to visit.

Oh shoot. They're taking blood again. That blood guy is not fun.
I haven't been to the American Red Cross in years. I did not sign a consent for this. I am not one to donate blood. I haven't given anything since my kids started going to private school. That tuition.

I had to yell, "Sir!!! This is not the time to be taking my blood and giving it to others!!! What the hell?!!! Why are you poking me. Don't you think I should be resting now." I don't believe now is the right time to take my blood. I need it.
This guy is stabbing me. Does he not know how to find blood? He's poking me all over, pulling out hairs.
Oh shoot. He's using the tape and he doesn't even have it in the right place. He's going to have to pull off the tape again. Damn. This guy is torturing me. Please stop pulling off the tape.
Thank Gd he only took a sample.

And now I have a scratch again. Damn. That is painful. I think it might be worse than the tape. It would've been nice if he poked my the back of my ear. He was poking everywhere else. At least he would've helped with the itch.

My kids are good by the way. My ex-wife told them to not worry about their dad. She said nothing about prayer. Nothing about visiting and being there with their dad after he almost died. She says, "They're too young to give a ----." That's how she watches out for the kids. She lets them know that love and care are not important. She wants them to be focused on good grades, because that's what makes a great human being. Good grades and a dead dad. And not having to think about other people. She said their teachers agree. This is the American education I am paying for.

So, I don't believe these people here respect me. They just told my girlfriend and my mom I'm a vegetable. I think they're going along with it because the doctor said it. Anything the doctor says is correct in my family. So, now I'm a vegetable. Did the doctor also tell my ex that caring about your parents is not important. Did he tell her that Gd's commandments mean nothing when it comes to getting into a decent college? Did he tell her to not have a heart? Did he tell her that alimony is supposed to be my full paycheck?

I'm sorry. It's been a hard day. I am now foliage.
A vegetable?! Did they just call me a vegetable?!
I guess my life is ruined people are going to treat me like ----. Talk about me, in front of me, like I am a teenage legume.
What an a-hole. This doctor. I can care less if you resuscitated me. Who calls somebody a vegetable?!
What kind of vegetables am I? Am I broccoli? Brussels sprouts? Bell peppers? Maybe that's why my kids aren't visiting. They hate brussels sprouts. I think brussels sprouts are amazing. I would've gladly been a sprout.
I guess vegetables do have feelings.
That's it. I'm a carnivore. I am never eating vegetables again. I have a heart. I'm sure my ex is eating a huge salad right now. probably telling the kids it's healthy to eat vegetables. She has no heart.
If I was a science project, they would visit. If I was that thing where they stick toothpicks in potatoes, their mom would let them love me again.

Finally a decent nurse. I think. Thank Gd the blood guy is not the IV nurse.
She's poking me too. Does anybody in this place know how to find a vein???!
Now it makes sense. This is why the girl is poking me like a fool. She thinks I'm cabbage. And cabbage does not have veins.
This is great. The blood guy is coming back. The doctor probably told blood guy to come back and saute me.
I'm a bit worried about that alimony thing. Is she going to take me to court while I have a trach?! I think I just heard the doctor tell her that the money is rightfully hers. I hate this doctor.

And they're pulling off the tape again. Ouch!!!!! Now that hurts. That hurt more than the stroke. That is more painful than listening to John talk about his kids. Do these people have any idea what pain is?! From now on, I hope they just leave the needles in and leave the tape!!!
"Again!!! Please. Just leave the tape. Never remove tape from my body. I'm a hairy guy." I don't think they heard that.

I don't think I'll be able to make the softball game next Sunday.

This sucks. Did this really happen???
Let me tell you what happened.
I thought I was gone. I was fine with that. Then somehow, I woke up and everybody was looking at me real weird. Like somebody just died. It's awkward when people are looking at you like you just died. And you did. Some were sad. I still like them. The others that had a smile on their face, it better be that they're happy I woke up.
I was fine with being gone. I was content not having to hear them complaining about pumps and augers anymore. Not having to fix stuff at the factory was not a bad reason to die. Not having to try on pants at Marshall’s, that’s a good reason to go. Between us, ice cream in general has been getting worse. Some people are even insisting frozen yogurt tastes good.

These are my thoughts. Apparently, nobody can hear me screaming. Maybe my voice is gone. I tried cracking the joke, “What's going on here? Did someone just die?” Nobody laughed. They must've not been able to hear it. Great timing too. Might have been the ambulance. Those things are loud.
They say it was a stroke. Was it a heart attack, cardiac arrest, having to raise kids? I don't know. It might have been a car accident. I don't know what happened. We'll call it a stroke. 

These are my memoirs. At least they're memories of what I can remember. I don't know. I had a serious stroke. Calm down. This is what I got. Do I have brain damage? How would I know?! All I know is that I have had to listen to a lot of people say real stupid stuff since the accident. They have definitely made me dumber.
These are the memories I have. I figured I would put this out there. I can't talk. That's what everybody is saying about me. I can't talk, I can't move, and from what I understand, some people want me dead. So, I figured I would write this with my buddy.

Day 1
I'm looking up. I have no idea what is going on.
Who are these people? I haven’t seen them before?
Did they just wake me?! I was in the middle of a good sleep. And why are they standing right by my bed?! That’s rude. Have they been watching me sleep the whole time?! Who the hell are these people?! Who the hell watches people sleep?! A little privacy would be appreciated. I think I just poohed in my bed.

Can everybody please stop staring at me?!!!
Why is everybody on top of me? And why I am in a stretcher?
Is this another doctor? Do they change my primary doctor every day?
Something is messed up here. Does anybody hear me? Please. A bit of privacy would be nice. Oh no. Some random dude is about to change me. Why do I keep on getting the guys. I would like a woman for once.
I have a lot of questions right now. And one of them is who is going to pay for all of this.
 
I guess I have a stroke. This fool in a white coat is saying, “It's a stroke.” I get it. I have a stroke. Will you shut the ---- up?! 
Why is this guy asking me questions? He knows I can't answer them. I have been yelling for the past five minutes and nothing is coming out.
How did it start? From what I remember, it was a conversation with John. Worst conversation I ever had. I have had some real bad conversations, but my head has never exploded before.

Let me take you back to when it stated.
I was hanging out with my buddy, John. Last thing I remember. John was telling me about his kids. We were in the promenade getting a cup of coffee and my brain exploded. He wouldn’t stop telling me about his kids going off to college. Yapping away about how proud he is. He just wouldn’t shut up. And boom, my brain just gave up. There is only so much hearing about John’s kids and the sports scholarships my brain can take before blowing up.
I would have to say, that the worst conversation I ever had. Even worse than the time I had to listen to Bernie's jokes at synagogue. That must be how strokes happen.

Forty-three. Who the hell gets this when they're forty-three. I am sure she's going to break up with me.

It turns out the white coat girl isn't even a doctor yet. She's still a student. She just likes saying “stroke.” Like she figured something out. I don't think now is a good time to ask her out.

Medicaid better cover this. If it was up to me, I would not be in this hole. I don't think workers comp covers conversations about how proud John is of his kids. So not talented.