It was just a few months after the accident that took my wife and son. I was at the register checking out at our local Super Market in Santa Barbara. The cashier said to me with her hand extended; “Sir, Your Change” But I didn’t see or hear a thing from her until the third time she said it. I had my head turned ninety degrees and I was looking down the shopping aisle I was in line with visually. What was there was a woman with a little boy in the child seat of the shopping cart, but what I saw was my late wife, Karen standing there and my late son Ian sitting in the cart. I was completely off in another place at another time in my life. I finally snapped out of it when my cashier was getting so loud at a third time to try and catch my attention. “Sir, your change sir!” “Oh, oh yeah” I said as I turned back to her. “I’m sorry” I added, as I took the change and rolled my cart towards the exit. Once agin, I began to cry.
I asked my doctor, what’s wrong with me? People talk to me and I don’t hear a word their saying, an old friend will walk up to me and say; “Hey Bobby!” and they will even give me a big hug most times. I know that I know them because I remember their face, but most times I have no idea what their name is.
My doctor said; “It’s completely normal, it”s all part of the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” All I could think of was; “Define Normal?”