Brain Malware Poem by David G Allen

BRAIN MALWARE
By David Allen

The past caught up
to my second son
on a warm June day.
It lay in wait
in his old home town
until he returned
from an island life
that soured with divorce
and drunken days
that turned into weeks.
Months.

Matt had come to visit
and clean himself up,
pledging he was done
with booze and drugs;
and would start to climb
the 12 steps to sobriety.

But an old friend visited,
Bringing a gift;
"Something to take the edge off, "
to ease the alkie shakes.
His past edged the present aside
and he took a hit.

It sent his blood pressure soaring.
Blood rushed into his brain,
squeezing the frontal lobes,
clotting into a cranial pool.
It knocked him out.
Fate had come a-calling.

His brother and I followed
our dog's freaked out barking
to the backyard where
Matt lay unconscious
under the hammock,
his eyes cloudy white,
pupils rolled up in retreat.

He was in a coma
for over a week.
The seizure was caused
by what the cops called
a junkie's "hot shot"-
a dose of drugs offered
as a friendly high
that knocks the mark out
and easy to rob.
Matt's was a combo of meth,
opioids, and stimulants.

"It finally happened, "
was my first thought.
The fate he evaded five years ago,
when he flew back to his island
and his ex-girlfriend killed her new beau
with a heroin overdose.

The damage done to my son
Will take years to heal.
The brain is fragile.
A traumatic brain injury
is like a malware program
that scrambles a computer's
memory; a virus that destroys
the settings that directed a life.

To fix it, sometimes,
you just have to turn it off,
wait a few seconds or weeks,
then turn it back on and
new settings.
But you have to be patient,
It may take a while
for the new programs to sync
and life starts anew.