"Groucho Marx got a lot of laughs for saying that he’d never want to be a member of a club that would accept him as a member." (Katherine Wise)
So begins the brainline.org article Brain injury Blogs: Voices from People Living with Traumatic Brain Injury about five bloggers, including me (!), whom they declare as being the people to read "if you are searching for encouragement, advice, or information from an authentic source." All I can say is I agree with Groucho: this club of people with brain injuries -- invisible injuries many deny to boot -- is not one I would volunteer to join. But it sure is nice being tagged as a blogger to go to for encouragement and information.
I encourage you to check out Wise's piece. And even if you don't have a brain injury or know a person with one, you may find the stories of my four fellow bloggers interesting. One thing I noticed -- we were all injured by (words removed for polite ears) drivers. A red-light runner, a truck rear-ender, a double-rear-ender with a push forward (me), car crash, drinking and driving. Four sober, one drunk. There's a message in that, methinks.
So begins the brainline.org article Brain injury Blogs: Voices from People Living with Traumatic Brain Injury about five bloggers, including me (!), whom they declare as being the people to read "if you are searching for encouragement, advice, or information from an authentic source." All I can say is I agree with Groucho: this club of people with brain injuries -- invisible injuries many deny to boot -- is not one I would volunteer to join. But it sure is nice being tagged as a blogger to go to for encouragement and information.
I encourage you to check out Wise's piece. And even if you don't have a brain injury or know a person with one, you may find the stories of my four fellow bloggers interesting. One thing I noticed -- we were all injured by (words removed for polite ears) drivers. A red-light runner, a truck rear-ender, a double-rear-ender with a push forward (me), car crash, drinking and driving. Four sober, one drunk. There's a message in that, methinks.
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