PART II

The Aftermath

But I was me. I was awake and alive and so grateful. I have flashes of recollections from that day. Doctors asking me questions: “Do you know who you are?” I knew. I knew literally and I knew philosophically. I think, therefore I AM! Of course, I am not a philosopher. I am a mother, a wife, and a comedy writer. All my jobs require agile mental abilities and creative engagement. Losing all or part of my mental faculties would be a total loss of identity and I wouldn’t even know it was gone. Instead of having memories, I would be a memory, identified only by what I had done with my life so far. But that thought now was just that: a thought. Meaning I still had thoughts. I had a second chance.

“Yes!” I answered in a weak whisper. “I am Jeannie Gaffigan!” Did I know where I was? “Mount Sinai Hospital!” That’s right. Did I know why I was there? “I had brain surgery!” What year was it? “It’s 2017!” Who was the president of the United States? (beat) “Uh… It’s not Donald Trump, is it?” Maybe I did have brain damage. The room let out a hearty laugh of relief. I remember Jim being there looking like he had just given birth to five babies at once. Leslie beaming. Dr. Bederson smiling down at me. Everyone so happy that the surgery had been a sensational success and then nothing.

BLACKOUT

Total loss of consciousness.