by Su Meck
For so long, I lived in perpetual fear of sounding stupid, of getting lost, of forgetting what to do or say, of getting caught for being who I really am, of losing my husband and children. I was exhausted a lot of the time and terrified of so much because somewhere deep down I was always afraid of being found out. I think about things differently now. I get frustrated these days because I don’t have the same kind of connection to my parents and siblings as most people do. I get irritated with myself for not being able to read and write as I once did. I feel stupid for being unable to sometimes have “adult” conversations, and for getting lost on my way to places that I’ve been to a thousand times. There are so many annoying gaps in my basic comprehension of life that I haven’t yet discovered. I still don’t even know everything I don’t know. And I get incredibly embarrassed. And angry. Angry because I think that no one else can ever really understand what it’s like to live this way. Angry because a medical community could see nothing wrong, and thus didn’t know how to fix me. And even worse than that, that same medical community assumed there was some kind of attention-getting or psychiatric reason for my condition. No wonder I didn’t like talking about it. No wonder I stopped asking questions. I felt like a fraud at times, but it was also clear that nobody was going to tell me how to get back to being the person I once was.
I get asked now if I would ever consider going to see any of these world-famous brain specialists. Pure curiosity would incline me to say, “Yes. Of course.” And yet I wouldn’t want to be turned into some kind of a human guinea pig. I know now that my condition is considered highly unusual, but maybe it’s really not as unusual as people think. Maybe there are many people out there with the same, or at least similar, circumstances as those that I have lived with. Maybe they were told there was nothing that was medically wrong with them, that it was probably all in their heads. Maybe they had doctors tell them that their symptoms were not real. Maybe they have resigned themselves to just getting by as best they can in the world, or worse, maybe they have just given up. Maybe there are people out there who don’t have it as good as I had it, surrounded by a supportive family.
Traces of my anterograde amnesia endure to this day. I still experience occasional blackouts, particularly in unfamiliar surroundings, like a hotel room or a friend’s guest bedroom. These episodes leave me with entire days of my life that I cannot recall. There are still days when I find myself unable to read or write. And I struggle with the concept of time: I have a hard time putting myself in the future, making decisions about the future, and understanding exactly how far away is next month, or next year. And also the past: how long ago stuff was. I am still forgetful, and I tend to lose memories unless I have a specific reason to retain them, or I write them down. (Jim and our kids used to follow a “three-day” rule: “No matter how badly we screwed up, if we could ride out your wrath or anger or disappointment for three days, you more often than not seemed to forget completely, and it would be as if nothing had ever happened,” Jim recalls.)
It is beyond hard to live like I do. Even if I couldn’t be “cured” or “fixed,” I would be content if some specialist could explain what exactly happened to my brain and why I am the way I am. Especially if what the experts conceivably found with me could somehow add to the body of brain knowledge and help future head-injury patients and their friends and families to avoid what I have had to go through.
All that being said, a very wise woman, my daughter’s professor at Barnard College, Alexandra Horowitz, asked me not long ago, “Su, if there was somehow some magical or medical way, would you really want all your memories back?” My knee-jerk reaction was to say, “Duh! Yes!” But I’m not so sure now. Alexandra said I should instead be happy with the years and all of the memories that I do have instead of languishing over all I don’t remember. And that makes a certain amount of sense to me. So many facts, details, people, and places I don’t know will, of course, trip me up at weird times, and it really sucks. But if all my memories were somehow restored now, where would that leave me? I would have to figure out exactly who I am all over again. No thanks!
And then there is Jim. Jim is obviously not a saint. (Neither am I.) But I have realized it isn’t fair to judge him only on the bad stuff he has done. There has been, and continues to be, an awful lot of good stuff, too. Everyone experiences ups and downs in life. Our family’s ups and downs have just been a little bit more . . . unusual, and perhaps a bit more extreme. Does anyone really know what life has in store? Did Jim know when he married me that he was going to have to at some point show me how to use a toaster safely? Did he realize when he married me that he would have to teach me my shapes and colors? Of course not. I can’t imagine what it was like for him to wake up with me every morning for months after coming home from the hospital and hear me ask him, “Who are you?”
Jim is not a bad person. He has done bad things to my kids, and to me, but for me that is somewhat overshadowed by the fact that he has been okay with me telling “the whole story” like this. It speaks volumes to me that he would be willing to go on record so that people can begin to understand how devastating a head injury can be to everyone involved. He agreed to put his entire personal life out there right alongside mine because he, just like me, strongly believes it is that important to get the word out about the incredibly destructive nature of brain injuries. Will some people think that I am throwing Jim under a bus? I certainly hope not, because that is not my intention. Why have I stayed with Jim? Dependency? Maybe. He knows me better than I know myself, and even though I know this is going to rub some people the wrong way, I’m just going to come right out and say it: If I didn’t have Jim, I wouldn’t have me.
That being said, I can’t say that I love Jim in the conventional sense that most married couples love each other. I have no idea what it feels like to “fall in love” with another person. I seriously doubt I ever will fall in love, and I am totally okay with that. But this book is not about a never-ending search for love. I simply wanted to tell my story—the entire story (so far), with all the facts (to the best of my knowledge), in order to, I hope, prevent these things from happening to someone else, or at least to try to help people in similar situations. To be honest, I didn’t even know half of my own story when I started this project. Since taking the first steps, I have met and had the opportunity to talk to so many people who have been instrumental in filling in huge gaps: my immediate family and Neal Moore, of course, but also Kathy, Michele, childhood friends Robin and Diedre, Janet, Valerie, Pam, Jodi, Heather . . .
But learning everything about my own life has been secondary to my initial mission. When I began this book project, all I really wanted to do was to explain what it really means to live with a head injury to as many people as would listen. I wanted people to stop saying, “Oh, he just had a concussion. He’ll be fine.” Or, “Gosh, she’s been acting wacky since she bumped her head.” I want everyone—parents, spouses, siblings, friends—to start paying attention. I would love to get the medical community on board as well. Stop telling people they are crazy. Stop telling people that they can’t possibly have forgotten everything just because you—the doctor, the neurologist—don’t see anything unusual on an MRI. Please don’t tell them that you think they are just seeking attention. Please listen to your patients. Spend more money on brain research. Real research. Discover new things. I did.
Left to right: Kassidy, Benjamin, me, Jim, and Patrick, West Hollywood, California, May 2008
Acknowledgments
It’s extremely hard to even know where to start! There are so many people who have helped me get to where I am today, but who, unfortunately, didn’t make it onto the pages of the final version of this book. The cuts I had to make to this manuscript were positively heartbreaking, but I am hoping that this book is only the beginning. . . . It’s true that I don’t directly remember anything about, or anyone from, my childhood and teenage years in Mentor, Ohio; Beaver, PA; Wayne, PA; or from my first two years
of college at Ohio Wesleyan University. But it is a goal of mine to take a tour someday back to all the neighborhoods where I lived and visit people who may have known me. But until then, I have Facebook, and through it I was able to connect with two of my best girlhood friends and playmates, Robin and Diedre; Lenny, from the Conestoga Marching Band drum line; Laura and Mary, two of my Delta Gamma pledge sisters; and Bob and Paul, two of Jim’s fraternity brothers. I have been fortunate that Kathy, one of my best friends from high school, as well as Michele, my sidekick, roommate, and best friend from college, continued to stay in touch with me, even when I had absolutely no idea who they were.
Thanks to Pam Knote, Janet White, Neal Moore, and Valerie Willey for agreeing to be interviewed by Dan. You all helped to shed light on particular details of my story and in turn assisted with the enormous puzzle that is my life.
Special thanks to anyone who ever worked with me or took aerobics or Spinning classes from me at any number of clubs where I taught in suburban Maryland both outside Baltimore as well as outside Washington, D.C. I love and miss you all! You all deserve an entire book simply titled Su: The Strength and Stamina Years. That being said, I should probably let you all know that, chances are, I wouldn’t last through even one class anymore.
To the entire Farrell family, but especially to Imelda. There is a very good chance that I may not have survived without our noontime dog walks together and our enduring friendship.
To countless of my fellow students, faculty, and staff at Montgomery College. You all pointed me in the right direction by giving me the opportunities, encouragement, and confidence that I never knew I had. Again, I thank God (and Mark Zuckerberg) for Facebook and the ability to still keep in touch with so many of you!
And of course to numerous fellow students, faculty, and staff at Smith College. You all know who you are, and you should be aware that your book is coming!
Last but certainly not least, to my family. My parents, Bob and Janet Miller; my sister and her husband, Barb and Scott Griffiths, and their daughter, Emily; my other sister and her husband, Diane and Paul Clear, and their kids, Kaitlin, Kevin (and new wife Ashley), and Keenan; my older brother and his wife, Rob and Tracy Miller, and their kids, Amanda, Brandon, and Jake; and my younger brother and his wife, Mark and Tiffany Miller, and their daughters, Morgan and Madeline.
And of course, to Jim and our kids, Benjamin, Patrick, and Kassidy. This thing was quite an adventure, wasn’t it?
Family is always family, no matter what. . . .
I love you all.
Dan would like to thank Beth Homan at Montgomery College, who knew a story when she saw one; Nick Anderson, his friend and longtime editor, who shepherded the Su Meck story onto the front page; Vernon Loeb, who immediately spotted its book potential; Craig Timberg and Chris Davenport, his Post colleagues and friends, who helped explain the whole “book” thing and lent us their agents; Rafael Sagalyn and Gillian MacKenzie, the agents, who provided invaluable advice; Jenna Johnson, Valerie Strauss, Bill Turque, Jay Mathews, Michael Alison Chandler, Emma Brown, Donna St. George, and the rest of the current and former Post education team, an ensemble with talent to burn; Freddy Kunkle, Craig Singer, John Kelly, Tim Brennan, Chuck Dolan, Skip Sheffield, John Grogan, Neil Santaniello, Bob McCabe, and everyone at GPJams, always ready for another set; Steve Hendrix, Tracy Liden, and Erika Singer, who provided timely guidance in shaping the proposal; Megan Brooks and Wendell Watson at Texas Health, who helped us find the crucial medical records; Michael Yassa at Johns Hopkins, Daniel Schacter at Harvard, and Larry Squire at UC San Diego, who taught us how memory works; Su’s devoted family and friends, who walked us through the missing years; Molly Lindley and Jonathan Karp at Simon & Schuster, who tirelessly, thoughtfully shaped a manuscript into a book; and Su and Jim, the sources who became collaborators and friends. Dan would also like to thank Betty de Visé, his ever-devoted mother; Madeleine and Donovan, his perfect children; and Sophie, his beautiful wife, editor, spiritual advisor and soul mate.
Simon & Schuster
Reading Group Guide
I Forgot to Remember
BY SU MECK
At twenty-two, Su Meck was married with two children when a ceiling fan fell and struck her on the head. She survived the injury, but when she regained consciousness in the hospital, she didn’t know her own name, didn’t recognize a single family member or friend, couldn’t read or write or brush her teeth or use a fork—and she had no memories of her life. No one had any idea how bad her memory loss really was, and after only three weeks she was sent back into the world to raise her children and run a household, even though she had no idea how to do any of it. For more than twenty years, Su wrestled not only with questions of who she really was and who she wanted to be but how to simply get by day by day. I Forgot to Remember is the story of a woman who had to grow up all over again and finally take control of the strange second life she had awoken to.
Discussion Questions
1. A memoir by a woman with no memories is a strange concept, but how different is it from other memoirs, which tend to be pulled together from long-ago memories? Do you trust Su’s story more—as it’s been pieced together from many sources—or less than you would a memoir by another writer? What does your answer say about the nature of the genre?
2. Su talks about the difficulties of parenting with no memories of being parented. In what ways are we all reliant on the parenting skills we’ve been taught? Do the roles her children take on in reaction to her needs support your answer?
3. After the accident, Su relies on routines to make her days make sense. How much do you rely on routines to structure your life? If your routines were taken away, would you be as confused as Su? Why or why not?
4. One of the more frustrating experiences for Su was when people believed her memory loss stemmed from psychological, not physical, sources. Do you think it matters what caused it? How might its cause change your perception of Su’s injuries and the difficulties she faces?
5. “I think I was probably trying to prove how genuine I really was, somehow. Because inside I felt so much like a fraud.” Do you think all of us do this on some level? Why or why not?
6. How reliable of a narrator do you think Su is? Do you find it problematic that Jim gets so many basic facts about her accident wrong? What about the memories of the other people, such as her kids? How much do you trust their memories? How does it affect your reading?
7. In what ways do the various settings—the tract house in Texas, the homes in suburban Maryland, the deluxe but stifling hotel in Egypt—shape the events that took place there and how we understand them?
8. Su has no memories of her life before the accident and very few of the years that immediately followed. She is dependent on other people’s memories of what happened to understand her own life. How different is this from the way the rest of us live? Are we all, in some way, a reflection of other people’s ideas about us? Why or why not?
9. Jim is one of the more complicated people in the book. In some ways, he comes off as a saint, helping and teaching and loving Su. On the other hand, he is largely absent, is verbally and physically abusive, and cheats on her. Do you ultimately see more good than bad in Jim? Why or why not? What do you make of the fact that Su loves him anyway?
10. “I have always loved Jim, and I have never loved Jim. In a way, Jim was assigned to me. I never really had a say.” How much do we choose who we love? How much of it do you think is circumstance?
11. After Su finds out Jim has had multiple affairs and spent tens of thousands of dollars on other women, things are rough between them, but she ultimately forgives him. Why do you think she did? Did she have any other choice? Do you think it shows weakness or strength on her part? Would you have forgiven Jim?
12. Toward the end of the book, Su finds out that she had an old boyfriend named Neal, a man her friends and family assure her was her first love. She has no memory of him, but then she remembers th
at there was a time when she didn’t remember or love her husband or children either. “And yet the expectation, and eventually the reality, was that I loved all of these people.” What does this say about the nature of love? Do you believe love must be immediate, or can it grow over time? Is romantic love different than maternal love? Do we choose love, or does it choose us?
13. “If I didn’t have Jim, I wouldn’t have me.” In light of all Jim has put Su through, and in light of all he did for her, do you agree? Is Su who she is largely because of Jim? Do you think she would have become a different person if she had married Neal? How do the people we surround ourselves with shape who we become?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. Have each person in the group write down their memories of the happiest day of their life. What sorts of details do you remember? What would happen if you lost this memory?
2. Watch a movie about memory loss, such as Memento, The Bourne Identity, 50 First Dates, Mulholland Drive, or Spellbound. How is memory loss portrayed differently in these movies than in this book?
3. Research one of the organizations that raises awareness of and money for traumatic brain injury, including the Brain Trauma Foundation (https://www.braintrauma.org/) and Nick Kot Charity for TBI (http://www.nickkotcharitynfp.com/). Could your group organize a bake sale or other fund-raiser to support these worthy causes?
A Conversation with Su Meck
In the introduction, you talk about the difficulty of writing a memoir with no memories of the first twenty-two years of your life. Did you find the process easier or harder than you imagined? Did you uncover things you didn’t expect?
Not that I ever imagined writing any of this, but I have to say that writing this book was way harder than I ever could have imagined. I do think maybe memoirs are the hardest kind of book to write, in general, because memoirs force writers to put themselves onto the page, warts and all. And being able to do that honestly and effectively is a real challenge, I would think, for anyone. This process was obviously made more difficult for me because I didn’t have a clear understanding of who I was, and even still am, in the first place. I explore this concept in the book, but I cannot even really begin to explain how problematic it was, and still is, having to depend so much on the varied, often contradictory, stories of others.
