30 Years in a Coma Doesn’t Kill the Memories

Gary Wojciechowski
MDI Contributor

A fellow called me up one day when I was like 35 years old. He said, “Gary buddy! Remember me?”

At the time I did vaguely remember he was a kid with whom I went to grade one. I remember when I was told he wasn’t coming back to school. He was hit by a city bus on a family trip to Edmonton. He was in a coma.

I had forgotten about him, and then there he was, almost 30 years later, calling me up. He’s out of his coma. He’s coming to visit his old friend.

For him, since it was only three years prior to that call that he awoke from his coma, it’s like the last time he saw me was a few years.

He had to get re-orientated and go through some rehab I imagine, and was working on his father’s farm. 

What a story.

I remember he was so happy to see me. He remembered the games we played as kids. He remembered things I said in school, and to him it was a recent memory. Wow! Blew me away.

The sad thing is I heard he died a couple years after seeing me again. A brain aneurysm got him in the end. What a life, he must have been like maybe six or seven years old when he was hit by the bus, wakes up at 30 something, has a few short years and then dies. 

But his memories were so strong.

He said when he woke up he was wondering when he could go back to school and see his old friend. 

For me, this speaks to the impact we have on each other’s lives. Every little part of our life’s interactions with others can remain in the memory of those around us.

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