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They sure make a big deal about concussions these days; strict protocols in all professional sports, bike helmets for everyone, etc.

It all comes a bit too late for me.

It is commonly believed that after three concussions, a person has “a higher risk of declining brain function, including memory loss, later in life.”

What a relief! I haven’t had three concussions, so I guess I’ll be okay.

I have had at least five (five that I can remember, anyway. Like I said, there’s memory loss involved.)

I’m feeling pretty good though, all things considered. Just not quite normal…

The first incident was when I was just four years old, rolling through the courtyard of our apartment complex on my big red tricycle. I assume my mother was watching, although I am not quite certain.

I do remember that once I reached the long ramp that went down to the basement, where the laundry room was located, I was required to turn back. That was my boundary.

Hmmm. No one explicitly said I wasn’t allowed to go down the ramp! Speed down, make a sharp right, and I will be in the laundry room. How much fun would that be on my tricycle?

I decided to find out

I slowly pedaled to the top of the ramp, then wheeled myself over the edge. Halfway down, picking up speed, I suddenly realized there was no way I was going to be able to negotiate that sharp right turn. No. Freaking. Way. As I continued to pick up speed, I had no choice but to give it my best effort.

Sadly, I came to a sudden stop when my little head smashed into the cinder block wall.

My lights went out. What transpired afterwards is lost to the hazy sands of time. In fact, I don’t even remember being five years old. Or six! But it’s all good. I’m fine now! Kind of…

Later in life my skull collided with parking lot pavement after I slipped while chasing shoplifters. I regained consciousness to see two EMS workers hovering over me; they just happened to see me fall as they emerged from a diner, came over (one of the guys was still chewing his lunch), picked me up, tossed me in their ambulance and dropped me at the hospital. Eight stitches to my face later, I was sent packing.

Another time I was having an argument with some kid at a bus stop, on my way to school, when his friend came up behind me and whacked me in the noggin with a thick tree branch; ambulance, hospital, stitches and home.

Then there was the right cross that I didn’t see coming (shoplifters again), after which my head bounced off of the sidewalk.

Out cold.

Woke up on the sidewalk, my eye swelling and my head bleeding. But I got up and continued the chase for another couple of minutes, until I realized that I had forgotten who it was I was chasing.

The latest, and hopefully final event, occurred 25 years ago. I was driving home from work, alone, when some idiot sped through a stop sign, and I broadsided her. I was not wearing my seatbelt, which, I guess made me an idiot as well.

My forehead struck the steering wheel at the point where my hairline was located in those days. I was certain that I did not lose consciousness, yet my next recollection was when I was parked at the curb, with a slow stream of blood making its way down my face. Oh: there was also some guy sitting in my back seat.

“Who are you?” I inquired.

“Let’s sue that lady together and make some money!” he said.

I demurred and was soon taken to the hospital for yet another three stitches to my poor skull. At that point I’m pretty sure there were five or six songbirds tweeting around my head in circles.

Because I am such a smart man, I decided to ignore my wife’s pleas, and go to work the next day. I couldn’t find my wallet or keys anywhere, but since I was going to ride my bike, it didn’t really matter.

Before I left, I decided to have some orange juice, and upon opening the refrigerator door, found my missing wallet and keys, exactly where I had put them the evening before.

It was a two-and-a-half-mile ride to my store, so it only took me about a half hour to get there, and I only fell one time, after losing my balance, dragging my knee along the asphalt.

When I got to work an employee asked how I ripped my pants and I said, “Sure.”

The cashier up front alerted me that the machine that dispensed the scratch-off tickets had stopped working. I determined that it was full of cash, so I emptied it. I removed a 12-inch-tall brick of cash, then went to the office in the rear of the store to count it. I opened the office door, locked it behind me and sat down behind the desk.

I sat there in the dark for about five minutes, trying my best to remember what it was I needed to do. Just then, the cashier from the front counter called me on the store phone.

“Did you mean to leave the cash up there?” she asked.

“Cash?” I began to reply. That’s it, I thought. I have to count the money. But I didn’t see it anywhere on the desk. Then I asked, “Up where?”

“It was on top of the scratch-off machine. Should I bring it to you?”

“Oh. Yes! Bring it back here. I need to count it!”

After an unusually short 8-hour day, I left the store, but I couldn’t find my car. I thought perhaps I had parked in back, and as I walked back through the store, I saw my bicycle.

Good thing I had the next day off, I decided.

The following morning, I thought a walk through Central Park was just the thing I needed. So, I ignored my wife’s pleas-again-and walked to the subway.

Two trains and one hour later, I reached Columbus Circle. I took the stairs two at a time, and when I reached the top, I wasn’t in Columbus Circle after all. I was in the lobby of the World Trade Center.

I stood at the top of the staircase for at least five minutes, looking around, as commuters angrily brushed past me. I had no idea how I got there. I saw the elevators, the high ceilings, and the marble floor. I closed my eyes tight, hoping when I opened them, I would be in Columbus Circle.

But when I took another look, I saw the elevators, the high ceilings, and the marble floors. Again. The one thing I did not see any longer, when I turned around, was the staircase I had just taken two steps at a time.

It just wasn’t there anymore. In fact, there were no staircases leading to the subway anywhere in the lobby.

Now I was beginning to get a bit nervous.

I walked around the lobby until I found a cop, who directed me to a subway entrance. I mistakenly boarded a downtown train, then fell asleep. I awakened back where I started from, and somehow managed to find my way home.

A week later, I borrowed an employee’s car and drove to my neurologist appointment. There was a parking space right in front, but I would have had to put money in the meter, so I kept looking. Three blocks away I found a spot by a meter, so I parked.

I turned the engine off but ran into a problem when I tried to exit the vehicle; I could not find the door handle. No matter how hard I looked, the handle was just not there. I sat back and took a deep breath. Stared at the steering wheel for a minute, then turned my head toward the door again.

Still, no handle.

I then got the brilliant idea to study the passenger door and saw where the handle was situated. I stared at it, memorizing its location, then quickly turned to look at my door. And there it was, in the exact spot I was looking earlier. Easy peasy!

I pulled on the handle before it could disappear, ignored the parking meter, and walked to the doctor’s office.

Please, don’t worry! Nothing to be concerned about. All of that happened a very long time ago. Things are...mostly fine today. Sometimes I can be a bit loopy, but nothing too outrageous. I remember things wrong. I get panicky in department stores; they get me feeling confused, and I often have trouble finding an exit. I sometimes drive miles past my highway exit. Repeat myself. Lose my train of thought while waiting at red lights. Drive miles past my highway exit. Nothing I can’t handle!

After dinner out last week, my wife went to the bakery next door to the restaurant, and I climbed into our Toyota SUV to wait. Pressed the remote, heard the locks open, opened the door and waited for her in the passenger seat. My wife’s bag was on the floor, which I thought was very careless of her, so I picked it up and placed it on the driver’s seat. Expensive looking bag, I thought. Not like her.

Then, I noticed the air freshener tied around the rear-view mirror. I never saw one in our car before. My wife must have bought it. When I went to start the car to get the air conditioning pumping, I could not find the ignition. Terrific, I thought. Here we go again.

I sat there a while, until the mist that enveloped my head finally began to lift.

I then got out of the Chevy SUV I was in and walked over to our Toyota, in the very next spot.

Like I said, I’m fine!

Just not quite normal.