That the man had laughed helped, eased some tension he hadn't even known he'd been carrying and he was reminded of all those weeks in the hospital and months in rehab and why he'd put off coming into the clinic as long as he had. He took a deep breath, he was absolutely reluctant but he was also honest.
"About... a year, year and half ago I was attacked. Blunt force trauma to the head." He took a deep breath, brought his left hand up across his body to tap at his right temple. "Little distance either way, little harder. Would have killed me. Almost did. They uh... they..."
He wasn't looking at the doctor anymore, eyes and hands dropped to his lap and he took another breath and forced himself to look up.
"They had to drill a hole to relive the pressure. First seventy two hours no one was sure I'd survive. Spent two weeks in a coma. Four more in the hospital learning how to use my right hand again. Damaged my Frontal lobe? The motor control strip."
He paused, it was a lot, and it was still only like half of it but he figured that was probably enough to start and let the doctor ask questions.