Dura Matters
by Dave Marcon on Nov 15, 2014, 08:10PM

DURA MATTERS
I never told anybody about my motorcycle accident in 1985 that left me permanently disabled. I never told anybody because it almost crushed my psyche and my spirit and made me feel ashamed.
The accident affected most of my cognitive functions. It stifled my personality and my ability to express myself. My potential for growth and development was interrupted.

I suffered a permanent disability after I hit a Safeway shopping cart on February 2,1985, when I was 22 years old. The cart was left in the middle of Bay Street one night, while I was driving without a helmet in San Francisco’s Marina District, two miles from the Fort Mason Youth Hostel.
I was knocked unconscious and the left side of my body was paralyzed. The impact of my head against the curb counteracted the cerebral spinal fluid the brain sits in. The fluid acts as a shock absorber when a person falls down or bumps their head I sustained multiple skull fractures and significant damage to the sensory and cognitive areas of my brain,  that bounced off the inside of my skull

Fortunately, the speech and language areas in my cerebrum, in the upper part of my skull, were unimpaired. Unfortunately, the curb at Bay and Laguna streets left a small hole in my cranium after my left brow struck the curb. I landed on my stomach that now has a faint red vertical scar. A Good Samaritan parked in a red van saw the accident. He phoned 911 from a Chevron station at the corner of Bay and Laguna, where I landed. An ambulance took me to San Francisco General Hospital, where I was strapped to a gurney and immediately given a CAT scan of the brain, which is a detailed x-ray. Immediate medical attention was necessary in a case like mine, because I sustained a severe head injury and would have died if the ambulance had not arrived when it did.

When the doctors first examined me after I arrived at San Francisco General, they thought I was bleeding internally and cut my stomach open after the CAT scan was taken.
I was taken to the operating room after the CAT scan where my neurosurgeon Dr. Griffith Harsh (who was a big fan of Star Trek) looked at my supine form, scratched his forehead and sang a line from Mack the Knife ‘‘You know this sharp blade has such teeth dear and it shows its pearly whites’.’ He probably thought  ‘’He’s dead Jim, but we have the technology to effect repairs on this biological unit and put in some overtime.’’
The neurosurgeons made five hours worth of repairs to my brain. They cut open my skull and evacuated the area of my brain that became flooded with blood because it sustained lacerations. The impact created a sub and epidural hematoma, a collection of blood, that formed on an area of my brain that swelled up. They wanted to prevent my brain from swelling up so blood clots would not form. I spent one month in intensive care in a comatose state, without a map.
After I came out of my coma at San Francisco General Hospital on February 21, I was transferred to St. Mary’s Hospital on February 22, where I began my rehabilitation on the fourth floor.
When I had realized what happened after regaining consciousness, it felt like someone had played a cruel joke on me. My left arm hung lame on my body. This was due to the damage to the motor area in the parietal lobe that controls movements in the opposite side of the body. I would not be able to play chess, write to my Legislator, protest or play ping -pong.I had to relearn how to walk, and perform other basic functions at St. Mary’s, such as tying my shoes, eating, using my hands, paying my income taxes, and balancing a checkbook. One of my first memories after coming out of my coma were being asked what I wanted to eat for breakfast by a female nurse, who became one of my primary nurses during my rehabilitation.

Prior to the accident, I had everything going for me. I had the world in the palm of my hand. I was enrolled at San Francisco State University as a foreign language major.  The French language and its culture were my area of emphasis and study. I also worked part-time as a waiter at a seafood restaurant, in downtown San Francisco at Embarcadero Center # 3. My goal at the time was to get a B.A. in French from San Francisco State. Then I was going to move to Montreal, Canada, the second largest French-speaking city in the world, where I would get a degree in journalism at McGill University that has two campuses located in downtown Montreal.

I would eventually move to Paris, France where I would work as a journalist.

I went back for a visit to Scott’s Seafood Grill & Bar after my release from the hospital after I moved back in with my sister Nancy. I mistakenly thought my job as a waiter would be waiting for me upon my release. However, when I went to the station I had worked for five years at lunch and dinner shifts, the restaurant had hired a replacement waiter. His name was Peter. Peter was hired by the restaurant before my accident and had less experience than I did. When I saw him working at my station, I was crushed. I suddenly had the painful realization that going back to work again was going to be a long road. This experience was an example of my personality being stifled. I didn’t feel that   disappointed when I saw Peter. The damage I sustained to the frontal area of my brain which is the seat of emotion had dulled my feelings. The experience was like an epiphany; that part of my life where I spent 5 memorable years and made friends was over. My accident diminished my confidence and self-esteem. It left me feeling like a little man, and inadequate as a person. Due to the damage to the frontal lobes, where executive functions occur, like tracking and sequencing I found it difficult to do things in order or succession like follow directions, prepare a recipe or work out math problems. An example of my inability at sequencing occurred in my attempts on a simple shopping trip. My sister Nancy sent me to the store to buy a loaf of wheat bread, and a pint of nonfat milk. Something happened in my mind between the time she gave me the list and my tennis shoes hit the road. I came back 1 hour later with a loaf of bread and a Snickers Candy bar. She looked at me and shook her head in disbelief. I was equally successful as a cook as I was at running errands. Thank god for take out food or I would have poisoned myself and Nancy if I had to prepare a meal. A cook I am not. Dave can’t cook. I remember feeling eager to do things and remake my life like it was pre-accident, after my release from the hospital, but my social skills were rusty. Social skills are a higher function of the frontal lobe that develop and become manifest in a person’s behavior towards others. I remember going to some restaurants with Nancy where I would begin ordering when I got inside the door, without waiting for the hostess or host to seat me. This became personally embarrassing when the restaurant was crowded and people stared at me as if I were rude and uncouth, like a barbarian, which I really am. I’M HUNGRY DAMNIT! My impaired cognitive abilities made it difficult for me to process and integrate information into my brain like a course lecture for example. Socially, it was difficult to have a conversation and stay focused on the subject. Simply put, a neurologist at St. Mary’s hospital explained to me in nonprofessional terms that tracking is literally the ability to do more than one thing at a time like walk and chew gum at the same time. I enrolled at City College of San Francisco one year after my accident in 1986.

I received classroom accommodations from Disabled student Services at City College , College of Marin, and San Francisco State University when I went back to school. I qualified for classroom accommodations under AMERICANS WITH DISABILITIES ACT or ADA.
For each class I took, a letter was sent to my instructor that described my disability and the accommodations I was entitled to, such as being allowed to tape record lectures, extra time to complete tests and assignments,take tests in a distraction free environment by myself and a date with the instructor’s wife if she were good lookin and had money
I received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Liberal Studies at San Francisco State University in 1995. I transferred there after taking enough classes at City College and College of Marin to qualify for admission. At San Francisco State, I took courses in English, Speech, the Social Sciences, Humanities and some literature courses that were prerequisites for my degree area.

When I received my Bachelors degree from San Francisco State, I felt a more meaningful satisfaction than I would had I earned it before my accident occurred, when things came so easily to me. It was difficult for me to relate to people socially after my accident because I had a hard time accepting the fact I might never relearn enough basic skills to work again or end up exploited and work in a sweatshop making tennis shoes or clothing and be paid ten cents an hour by huge mega corporations like Nike or the Gap. Initially, my accident left me with a chip on my shoulder. I constantly feel like I always have to prove myself because I don’t look disabled, since my disability is invisible; no one can see it since I’m as articulate as the average person.

I have not changed much since my accident, give or take a few years of psychotherapy before and after my accident occurred. I remain the same person I was. But I’ve persevered and compromised my dream of living in Paris, France as a journalist.
I’ve developed a personal philosophy after being told initially by doctors and therapists
in the hospital and rehab. Center that I’m permanently disabled: I will never give up!
I’ve worked a variety of volunteer jobs after my accident while taking college courses.

I began working a temporary volunteer job at Friends of The San Francisco Public Library in 1986. doing light clerical work; stuffing envelopes, filing papers etc. I worked at Friends in the morning. I also worked as a teacher’s aid in a bilingual Kindergarten class In the Haight Ashbury in the afternoon where the children spoke French and English. I worked at Friends with unbridled enthusiasm. I sat behind a desk. However, all I did was stuff about 1 or 200 envelopes.; more than I care to remember. This activity left my tongue with a permanent curl.It allowed me to talk to the 5 year olds at the Bilingual school at their level-  like Sylvester the Cat from Bugs Bunny.

After I finished working at Friends and the bilingual school, I worked at St.Mary’s Hospital until the spring of 1987.
I wanted to give something back to the hospital for rehabilitating me. I worked on fourth floor west 4West, where I received rehabilitation as a patient.
My job was to assist the physical therapists. MY job was to by file different colored forms that contained current patient informatio alphabetically. The forms were blue, yellow, pink It sounded easy to me The yellow form was for patients receiving therapy who were transferred to four west from intensive care. The pink form was for patients who had mobility impairments-  who were in wheelchairs. This form was supposed to be placed with the patient’s blue and yellow form in the same file. Gee whiz people, I have a head injury- cut me some slack!
Ultimately, my tenure on 4 West was a short one that lasted 1 week. I became confused as to where the colored forms were supposed to go. I mixed the colored forms together in the same file. I was transferred from four West to the mailroom, at the suggestion of physical therapist/supervisor. I delivered mail to patients and different departments. This turned out less stressful than filing colored forms. I only had 1 color, white to worry about.

  After St. Mary’s hospital I took a volunteer job in July 1987 at the California Academy of. Sciences I told them of my interest of being an elementary schoolteacher.. The museum assigned me to also position in their Discovery Room. This was an interactive room designed for elementary school children. The room was filled with natural science exhibits. It contained a replica of a human skeleton. There was a closet filled with clothes from different countries that could be tried on, such as wooden shoes from Denmark, a sari from India, a Sun hat from China, etc. There was also a a bookshelf filled with wooden discovery boxes that could be opened where children could use their natural senses to learn about different aspects of science.  My job in the room was to interpret the exhibits, and record on a clipboard the number of people who came in the room.
I worked at the Academy of Sciences every Wednesday until September 1993 in the afternoon while I was enrolled at San Francisco State. I went to Europe for 1 month with my sister Nancy in October 1993. I wanted to focus on my course work at San Francisco State after my vacation in Europe before I graduated so I stopped working at the museum. The 7 years I spent at the Science Academy were enjoyable. I had control and responsibility of something for the1st time.
In my spare time between volunteer jobs I was searching for an activity or outlet that would help relieve the stress and frustration I experienced of being disabled.
Creative writing is something I found to resolve personal issues and relieve the stress of being disabled.
I took creative writing courses at U.C. Berkeley Extension from 1997 -2001 after moving across the bay to Berkeley and some online writing courses through UCLA Extension. The writing courses and workshops I’ve attended had a therapeutic value. I use writing as a way of achieving personal satisfaction. It’s something I’ve used to work out personal issues, writing about relationships with people I’ve met, childhood events, etc.
I went back to work at the Academy of Sciences in 2009 after the museum was rebuilt after the Loma Prieta earthquake. I took some classes at the museum and became a volunteer docent working part-time ,interpreting some of the exhibits.I work in the aquarium lower level at the touch tide pool in the morning and I walk the Rainforest in the afternoon.
Now,I want to develop my writing skills and become a famous and world-renowned writer of fiction and non-fiction I’d like to hit the cocktail circuit, attend book signings, and appear on C-Span2. I’d also like to have my books made into successful blockbuster motion pictures that are made for ridiculous amounts of money, and reviewed in the New York Times. Then I would-develop a drinking problem like Ernest Hemingway, live a decadent lifestyle like Zelda and F. Scott did in Paris, suffer from depression like Sylvia Plath. I’d like the stories I will write to become required reading in every literature class in America, Europe and every English-speaking city in the free world.

Thank you

Dave Marcon

I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams