Brain Injury Awareness Month- Day of my Accident

March is Brain Injury Awareness month.  I know as first glance this has nothing to do with my experience in Rwanda but it has had so much impact on my life that there is no avoiding its influence. The condition has been getting more attention lately from so many soldiers and NFL players suffering its effects.  My experience with my traumatic brain injury gives it a special place in my heart.  I was inspired when I read these stories, so I thought I would share my story as well.

It prides me to think that I have persevered throughout my recovery to the point that I’m now living independently, contributing back to society and many people would not even know about this incident.  I must note that no two brain injury stories are similar and nothing is ‘normal’ when considering the brain.  The brain is such a new frontier for science and in addition to its physiological importance, there is psychological, emotional, and mental value to the brain.  All of these components of life can be (and in my case were) affected from a head injury.  

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Disclaimer: All of the anecdotes from the day of the accident comes from other’s stories they have told me;  I do not remember the first few weeks after my injury.  On November 25, 2012 I was wrapping up a Thanksgiving visit with my family and decided on one last scooter ride with my brother before heading back to DC.    I was wearing a bike helmet to protect my head and went full speed, about 25 mph, and then for some reason...I just fell.  The initial impact was to the left side of my head because I did not put my hands out to catch myself.  I slid across the road and was unconscious as my brother tried to rouse me.  My dad looked out the window and saw him trying to wake me so he ran out and yelled to my mom to call 911.  Meanwhile, my other brother went to get help from a neighbor who is a highly skilled nurse.  But he politely waited for her to finish what she was doing and then struggled to explain the enormity of the situation, instead explaining that I had fallen.  He wasn’t able to convey until he mentioned I was unconscious and bleeding out of my ear.

xray before my surgery

xray after my surgery, notice the staples in my head

At this point I was attempting to physically wrestle my dad away while the volunteer EMTs and my neighbor agreed I needed to be helicoptered to the nearest neuro-surgeon.  Once I got to the hospital they did surgery on the left side of my head (the point of impact) and while I was in a medically induced coma, they told my parents they would have to wait and see.  Over the next few hours either I would start to recover or they would need to do surgery on the right side as well because there was clotting or I would worsen so much there was little they could do. 
 

I am blessed that it was the first one.  If they had had to operate on my right side they’d have had to cut into my brain and who knows what type of person I would be now.  But instead I was released from coma after about 18 hours, and although I was a stubborn, grumpy patient who didn’t want to listen to the nurses, I was alive, able to move all my limbs (my face was a different story) and verbally responding to EVERYTHING.  I honestly don’t view this stage as very difficult for me.  The uncertainty was dreadful for my loved ones, but I had mostly slept until now and did not have enough brain function to really comprehend or stress about the extent of the situation or how it would affect me in the future.

This is a very long, heavy post, so I’m going to make a second tomorrow about the struggles from my recovery.