I’m sorry for being so verbose about this car crash, but it’s been a main theme in my life lately. I know all of you have expectations about what appears in this space. This time of year, for instance, I would normally be blogging about my dislike for lawn care.

But I’d like to start by thanking the Texas Rangers for supporting my recovery this winter by acquiring former Expo Delino DeShields’ son, who is also named Delino DeShields. Delino DeShields is playing Major League Baseball… and you’re all still sticking to this bit that it’s NOT the 1990s? That is dedication!

You may recall that I had a lot of free time the week after the therapy place cut me loose but before I started back at work. I explained that I started watching reruns of Quantum Leap on TV, but now it makes sense that I ended therapy when I did. When I’ve seen public relations people, I tell them about how I was struggling with memory and then describe my “Swiss cheese brain.”

Also, when I blogged about David Letterman last week, a friend told me that while I was dealing with the worst of my memory issues, I couldn’t remember where I went to college. Apparently, my brother said “You went where David Letterman went to college,” and I immediately declared “Ball State!”

So I could remember where David Letterman went to school, but not myself. Actually, given how much slacking off I did in college, that seems oddly appropriate. Also, I suspect the marketing staff at Ball State would remember David Letterman better than me, too.

I’ve finally had a chance to go through the email I received after the crash. My friends, I’m finding out, were wonderfully supportive even outside the hospital. One of them wrote that I was doing good work by being belligerent as a patient because it showed the medical staff that I was serious about my recovery.

Actually, having heard stories about my behavior with some of the doctors and nurses, I feel really bad, but she’s worked in the medical field, so she would know.

My former colleague, Mark Watkins, wrote that he was sure I’d eventually get out of the hospital because I’m “too hardheaded to be undone by something like this.” That’s supportive. I’m going to consider that support.

Speaking of hardheaded: one of my friends tells me a therapist was doing some work with me at JPS one day and asked me when the California gold rush started. She tells me I said, quite confidently, “1848.” The therapist showed me the book and tried to explain that the gold rush was in 1849, but apparently, I was adamant that the gold rush started in 1848.

To settle the matter, the therapist looked it up and guess what?!

I’ve also had a chance to visit the two hospitals that took me in when I was a disaster.

It turns out, though, even when I’m crazy, I’m still a great guy.

When I hobbled into Baylor, one of the physical therapists looked up and started waving at me from across the room. It was nice that she remembered me, but I also thought, “Note to self: you do NOT want to be memorable at a hospital.”

I felt better at JPS because even though people there could remember me in some spots, they couldn’t in others. Then I felt bad because if my behavior didn’t stand out, that just makes JPS seem like a terrible place to work.

As a journalist, it’s important to remain unbiased. I’m not one of the talk show hosts, and I’m glad about that, so I’m taking a great risk in making the following editorial statement: I am OPPOSED to traumatic brain injury.

Now, I can hear all the proponents of traumatic brain injury yelling at their computer screens about how one-sided I sound. They’ll organize a rally to show their support for traumatic brain injuries, but if they’re anything like me during the worst of my injury, they’ll space on the date and no one will show up.