That is a line spoken by the late comedian Fred Willard in a 2003 “mockumentary” movie called A Mighty Wind. Rather than try to explain the original and hilarious source for the title of this post, watch this clip at https://digg.com/video/fred-willard-hey-wha-happened Better yet, watch A Mighty Wind.
This phrase often comes to mind as I navigate the ludicrous, terrifying and heartwarming summer of 2021. The unfolding theme is terra incognita: circumstantial, physical, cognitive and emotional. What can I do? I can laugh. Picturing the goofy grin on Fred Willard’s face as he narrates the backstory of “Hey, wha’ happened” has already steered me through many a moment of vertigo. When things turn upside down, it’s more fun to imagine myself as a pair of tumbling dice. That way, there’s an even chance that (a) things might go horribly wrong when the dice come to rest, or (b) I could experience a pleasant surprise.
I have a vivid memory of my first “Hey, wha’ happened” moment. I was five or six years old and swimming in the Atlantic Ocean, a short distance from our house in Stamford, Connecticut. Playing in the surf, I was swept off my feet by a big wave. The bottom dropped out and I was suddenly part of the power and energy of the moving water. My body lost its sense of up, down and sideways. It felt like a thousand mighty arms were tossing me to and fro. I was too bewildered to be scared, and despite the intensity of the movement, it didn’t hurt at all. The wave receded and there I was, on my belly on the sand.
There was a strange clarity in that moment of disorientation. The sensations made time go all stretchy, and I was just a scrambled, primordial being.
In late May 2021, a different set of circumstances brought me to that same weird cognitive landscape. I suffered a concussion and a mild cerebral hemorrhage as a result of a bicycle crash. Though I have no memory of the impact, the “Hey, wha’ happened” moment was quite similar. This time, instead of being on my belly on a sandy, sunshiny beach, I was in the emergency room at Swedish Hospital.
Since that day, I’ve experienced dozens of “Hey, wha’ happened?” moments. The trick is not to let them rattle me. That can be a challenge when doing something complicated and risky, such as driving a car. The hemorrhage occurred on both sides of my brain in the frontal and parietal lobes, so that means I am rebuilding my executive function (managing, multitasking and juggling distractions), emotional responses (‘nuff said) and motor skills (also pretty self-explanatory).
The cerebral healing and rewiring process often brings a sense of off-kilteredness. To cope with that, I ask myself where I am in space. This doesn’t take long (seconds, really) and the benefits far exceed the small amount of extra time spent. Belly on the sand, I check in with arms, legs and head. Sit up, then stand. Find the ten directions. The alternative: try to leap to my feet in terror, get snagged by the next incoming wave, inhale some salt water through my nose and dig my disheveled self out of the hole I’m in. Either way, Fred Willard is in my head, saying “Hey, wha’ happened?” Either way, I’ll eventually re-orient myself on the compass rose. But the first choice leaves me a little extra energy to breathe, maybe even laugh, and be quietly open to the unexpected thing that will happen next.
This blog will lead to a wonderful, and hopefully insightful, group discuss with my TBI folks. ,Thanks.
Thank you, I am so glad to hear that it might be helpful.