One morning, I’d woken up to find two red dots on the main purplish-blue vein running down my left arm. Maybe it all began with a bug bite, from a bedbug that didn’t exist. I squint, unable to focus on the words, but after a few seconds, the block letters sharpen: FLIGHT RISK. I pluck one out-which makes my scalp sting-and lower it to eye level it’s pink. I rip it off, suddenly angry, and raise both hands to inspect my head further. But instead of hair and scalp, I find a cotton hat. With my arms free, I instinctually raise my right hand to scratch my head. The purple lady moves closer, her breasts brushing against my face as she bends across me to unhook the restraints, starting on the right and moving to the left. Why would she choose today to reenter my life? “Sybil? Where am I?” “Don’t you go doing that,” she croons in a familiar Jamaican accent. Her expression never changes, as if I hadn’t said a thing. Home.īefore the relief finishes washing over me, though, I see her. There’s an unopened window to my right that looks onto a street. I wrap my hands around the rails and pull up, but again the straps dig into my chest, yielding only a few inches. The vest connects to two cold metal side rails. My fingers find a thick mesh vest at my waist holding me to the bed like a-what’s the word?-straitjacket. I lurch forward, but something snaps against me. I know immediately that I need to get out of here. After a moment I recognize them: TV, curtain, bed. Objects emerge from the murk and sharpen into focus. Word by word the questions come: Where am I? Why does my scalp itch? Where is everyone? Then the world around me comes gradually into view, beginning as a pinhole, its diameter steadily expanding. My thoughts translate only slowly into language, as if emerging from a pot of molasses. There is a dull foreboding in the pit of my stomach. I can’t tell if I’m moving my mouth or if there’s even anyone to ask. "synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.Īt first, there’s just darkness and silence. “A fascinating look at the disease uld have cost this vibrant, vital young woman her life” ( People), Brain on Fire is an unforgettable exploration of memory and identity, faith and love, and a profoundly compelling tale of survival and perseverance that is destined to become a classic. In a swift and breathtaking narrative, Susannah tells the astonishing true story of her descent into madness, her family’s inspiring faith in her, and the lifesaving diagnosis that nearly didn’t happen. Now she was labeled violent, psychotic, a flight risk. Days earlier, she had been on the threshold of a new, adult life: at the beginning of her first serious relationship and a promising career at a major New York newspaper. When twenty-four-year-old Susannah Cahalan woke up alone in a hospital room, strapped to her bed and unable to move or speak, she had no memory of how she’d gotten there. NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE STARRING CHLOË GRACE MORETZĪn award-winning memoir and instant New York Times bestseller that goes far beyond its riveting medical mystery, Brain on Fire is the powerful account of one woman’s struggle to recapture her identity.
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