|
|||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
$18.73 Autographed
Copy of Remind Me Why
I’m Here Sifting
through Sudden Loss of memory and Judgment Receive email •
when the
author's next book comes out •
about author’s
events in the Or delete your
mailing address from this list |
“It is one matter to forget things when you have a million thoughts
flooding your mind and quite another to forget when your head is as empty as
a looted store.”—from Remind Me Why I’m
Here In the spring of 1996, Diana Lund
was a top-ranked project manager in her mid-thirties when a car accident
instantly changed her personality and her life’s direction. Thrust into
short-term memory loss and cognitive deficit, self-perception collided into
reality. Neurologists underestimated her difficulties; they sent her back to
work, to manage multi-million dollar contracts, in a mentally compromised
state. Outside of work, her marriage-minded boyfriend kept expecting more
than she could give. Beyond an
account of devastating internal transformation, Remind Me delves into neurological research and trends.
*********Personal messages are only included at
author’s signing events********** Use Calculator to compare shipping prices,
and from that page you can BUY the book. Note: Shipping to Tax: 6.75%
for Refund Policy Diana Lund Privacy Policy |
||||||
Endorsements
“. . . the book grabs the
reader by its clear straight writing, and moves along as a flowing narrative. A
topic that could be dense and heavy becomes a page turner..
Even sophisticated professionals can relate to the freshness of observations
and the attempts to work through puzzles that change a life after brain
injury.” —Leonard Diller, PhD, Professor of Rehabilitation Medicine,
“This
is a superbly written volume. It is a lucid, nuanced first-person account by a
car crash survivor; illustrating the (by now research proven) fact that even,
so called, minor brain injuries can produce functionally incapacitating
cognitive and neurobehavioral impairments, as well as serious identity crises.
This book should be compulsory reading for students as well as experienced
Neuropsychologists, Neurologists and Psychiatrists. Survivors
as well as their families and friends will find edification and solace in this
book.” —Yehuda Ben-Yishay,
PhD, Professor of Clinical Rehabilitation Medicine,
“I feel as though
of all the people who have self authored a book on mild traumatic brain injury,
yours is the most reflective and insightful.” —Dr. Robert G. Kohn,
neurologist/psychiatrist,
“‘Mild
Traumatic Brain Injury’ is a pervasive, somewhat invisible,and grossly
misunderstood disability that affects many, many members of the
population who suffer for lack of credible information. In my opinion, Remind Me provides that information in a
clear, entertaining and vital manner.” —Sol Mogerman, M.Sc. Registered Clinical Counsellor, author of Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear (Inside Brain Injury)
“Diana Lund's book is an insightful, sensitive and very
personal account of the effects of her ‘mild’ brain injury. She has an entertaining and witty
writing style that takes the reader inside her altered cognitive abilities and
personal relationships. Unlike many personal accounts that focus on
the initial trauma and acute rehabilitation process, Diana relates a very
different experience. Her traumatic brain injury was not initially
diagnosed, she was not hospitalized, and treatment for her cognitive challenges
was delayed and inadequate. As a single, independent,
intellectually-gifted career woman, she was unprepared and confounded by the
changes in her relationships and ability to work in the corporate
environment. Her story highlights the importance of accurate diagnosis,
workplace accommodations, cognitive remediation and emotional support. It
is essential reading for clinicians, families, and counselors.” —Marilyn Lash, Lash and Associates Publishing/Training, Inc.
Part 1: An Odd Discovery
Chapter 1: Sandwiched
Chapter 2: Dazed
Chapter 3: Beyond
Reason
Chapter 4: Diagnosed
Chapter 5: Mildly
Sick
Chapter 6: The Evacuation
Upstairs
Chapter 7: Gray
Matter
Chapter 8: Brain
Images and Waves
Chapter 9: No Savant
Idiot
Part 2: Just Deal
Chapter 10: Trying on
New Glasses
Chapter 11: The
Conference
Part 3: A Change of
Season
Chapter 12: The Winds
of Autumn
Chapter 13:
Thanksgiving Meltdown
Chapter 14:
Subtraction of Self
Chapter 15: Breeding
Brain Injury
Part 4: Just Deal
Chapter 16:
Guidelines to Return to Work
Chapter 17: Grabbing
at Tree Boughs
Part 5: Death and Life
Chapter 18: A Pill
Short of the Netherworld
Chapter 19: Curtains
to Act I
Epilogue
Back Matter
Appendix A: Faculties
Returned Timeline
Appendix B:
Strategies and Rules
Appendix C: Funeral
Lists
Glossary
Notes
Selected Bibliography
Excerpts
Transformation would occur in an instant; injected into my
soul, an imposter would slip quietly and insidiously into me and associate my
face to uncharacteristic clumsy, dim-witted, and emotional acts. From one body I
would live two lives, one right after the other, and my recollection of having
lived these lives would be clearer than others’ murky memories of past
incarnations. Once I knew, really knew two me’s, I
could unravel and then reconstruct my beliefs about illness, intelligence, God,
friendship, perception, judgment, prejudice and alcohol. I’d be able to write
about my changed views well before I could discuss them clearly.
Anybody’s day
can include driving to work, to the store, to a movie—nothing seemingly unsafe,
until BAM, the driver is reissued a life of struggle. A car accident which
results in brain injury happens to somebody in the
What befell
in an instant would take years to disentangle.
From Chapter 6: The Evacuation Upstairs
When my brain
wasn’t interacting with the environment or my brain was tired, my neurons would
shut down and seamlessly, I would stare into space. I’d think that a few
minutes had passed, but in actuality, a vacuous hour had swept by; five minutes
is five minutes is an hour. I think of this state of mind as my black hole.
When I
slipped down the black hole, I had no thoughts. I sensed nothing. Even if my
eyes were open, there was no light. The mood was as quiet as snow falling on a
mountain slope. Zero happened. My mind escaped to complete, utter oblivion. I
wasn’t turned into ashes, but into nothingness. I was annulled; I never
existed. I didn’t have control over my mind. With the force of a river, I
floated where the current took me and if nature was forgiving, it wouldn’t send
me over a waterfall.
When I awoke,
I wasn’t sprawled on the floor, but sitting in a chair. I didn’t necessarily
know where I was, how I’d gotten there, or what was happening. The accumulation
of how much time I spent each day in this obliterative
state was substantial. That first half year, I slipped down the black hole
about every fifteen minutes of consciousness unless I was engaged, say, with
driving.