June 19 marked 8 years since I fell and suffered a traumatic brain injury. Eight years!
If you or someone you know has suffered a TBI, you know what the recovery process is like. It seems like an endless to and fro from one appointment to another to regain what was lost.
I could not read (and comprehend); I could not listen to music (unless it was classical or in another language). I could watch TV which I found odd and still do. It was about 8 months before I realized I could read more than a sentence or two and actually remember what I read.
And you know what? I was never bored. I learned that boredom is like a brain function. My brain was so broken I didn’t have the capacity of boredom. I joked (because to not joke would mean I’d have to cry at the sadness of it) that I would change my seat to change my view.
I learned to BE. I learned to sit in stillness.
I assembled a team of professionals — from PT, OT, speciality chiropractic, neurologist, myofascia, cranial...
I acquired this funny looking device (far left) when my ex husband died in early 2020. I remember asking him what it was. (Doesn’t it look like a polisher of some sort?) He said it was a massager.
I have since learned this from my chiropractor who uses a professional version of this funny thing: A massager is for the muscles. A percussive device (which this is) is for the fascia. That makes sense because John had had a knee replacement.
Once I took the time to learn about this device I found myself using it frequently. So frequently I did not put it away.
Summer of 2020 I had out patient surgery on my calf. One would think that a small 3 inch incision would not be a big deal, right?
For the first few days, even climbing stairs would tear the two layered stitches because of where on the calf the incision was.
I was restricted in movement and stretching — both had been daily, non-negotiable practices.
Fall of 2021 I was so frustrated by the weakness in my...
Meet Grace, my one eyed Goddess. As I nurse my cat Grace back to health, I am seeing the similarities between her journey and our journey (our meaning humans). It's fascinating. Join me.
A year ago today my daughter and I left for a road trip. It was to be a 12 day trip.
It lasted three days.
Twelve hours after leaving, I was flat on my back, in a pool of my own blood, one hand holding my daughter’s. The other holding the hand of a hotel staff member, in shock, under blankets with onlookers making comments as if I had gone deaf. We awaited the ambulance.
Thus began the long road back from a Traumatic Brain Injury.
It’s been a very long year.
The most obvious thing is that the most obvious injury gets the attention. The gushing wound on my chin got the attention. Two and a half weeks later I was diagnosed with two concussions. No wonder my world had become surreal. It had never entered my mind – no pun intended at all. I just didn’t understand what was happening to me.
I couldn’t read; I couldn’t spend much time on the computer. I could not enjoy YouTube videos...