"Illusion is the price that must be paid to evolve perceptions that can keep up with a dynamic environment"
When we think of the term "brain damage", we generally experience an instantaneous bristle - a perish-the-thought kind of shutter and revulsion. We run from the very imagery. We think of half-dead wretches lying, lifeless, in some state-run institution or hospice with nuns, shoes squeaking, running amok and tending to the albeit quite limited needs of the "brain dead", whose drool out of the corner of their mouths, have a hose of some sort stuck in it, or not. Whose fingers and toes are curled, whose nails are yellowed and long-since neglected, whose decubitis-stricken body is simply waiting for their brain to stop completely, legally, and finally. We think of the poor Karen Ann Quinlan's and Terri Schiavo's of the world - once vital and young and the waiting world their lovely oyster, now counted among the poor souls whose body has betrayed them, lying in wait of death to take them.