Dear Cerebral Vascular Accident,
Excuse me for not keeping in touch, but hey, here I am. Hard to believe November 2nd is right around the corner. You know what that means? The big Two-O! Imagine, we’ve been together for 20 years. Wow?!?! My excitement defies punctuation. So, let me take this milestone to finally say thank you.
Seriously. Thank you.
First of all, you were the one responsible for never letting me forget my wedding anniversary. You made quite the entrance when you burst into my life only seven days after my marriage. Wasn’t it gracious of Marilyn to allow you to crash our honeymoon? The fact that she has put up with us this long defies belief. Let’s face it, if it weren’t for her, we would be in some back alley competing with feral cats for restaurant scraps, drinking cheap wine and generally existing in a Charles Bukowski-style universe. That should qualify her for sainthood status. I bet if I shot off a quick text to Pope Francis, I could make that happen. Then again, thanks to you, I’d probably forget to do it.
Speaking of which, you really worked your magic in that department. Other than my anniversary, you hit the “delete” key on everything else in my memory banks. It was you who gave birth to such stunning accomplishments as forgetting to turn off the gas, lock the apartment door or why I’m leaving in the first place. On the plus side, who wouldn’t want their home festooned with a kaleidoscope of Day-Glo reminder Post-it® notes. It’s like walking into a box of Froot Loops®. All I need is Toucan Sam™ greeting me at the door to make me feel like I’m 5 again.
See, there’s another thing I should thank you for. You are so amazing! You allowed me to relive my childhood. Learning how to walk and talk again was awesome. It’s even more exciting now that I’m an adult familiar with the laws of physics. Specifically, gravity. So what if I take a header every once in a while? At least I get to spend quality time with my wife later in the emergency room.
Then there are those pesky cognitive issues you casually slipped in when I wasn’t looking. I love those. Some stroke survivors might feel differently, but they’re the outliers. Take my buddy, Tim. In group, he’d grumble, “I’ve lost my mind,” because he couldn’t make change for a dollar. Hey, don’t take it personally. Tim’s mind was lost way before his brain injury. It took me over an hour to pick out prepositions in a New York Times paragraph, but did I complain?
Thank you for allowing me to never again set foot on a golf course. Honestly, is it even a sport? Personally, I think it was invented to give men an excuse to dress like a pimp.
Which reminds me, my wife would like to thank you for giving me the option to cheerfully disregard all sexual positions but three: me on the bottom, me on the bottom, and me on the bottom.
Best of all, as a comedian I’m always searching for new material. Now, thanks to you, I’ve got a treasure trove!
I could go on, but I’ve forgotten half of it. So, here’s to us, old friend. On the big day we’ll pop open the bubbly and toast our future. I’d jump for joy, but I can’t do that anymore.
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