Staring blankly up at the ceiling of a French hospital, I distantly understood that I was in trouble, but could find no words to explain how I felt. Speaking in French to explain my situation to the doctor was impossible, as I was no longer sure that I could speak any language. Time moved differently, jumping back and forth between clear memories of before the accident and the fuzzy, confused reality of after. My head felt eerily empty, quieter than I had ever experienced it. I had a vague sense of who I was- I knew my name, at least- but could not understand how I had gotten to be in this state.