Overcoming a Traumatic Brain Injury
And Finding Success
On September 28th, 2016, I sustained a brain injury that would forever change the course of my life. Little did I know that this seemingly innocuous incident would catapult me into a world of medical assessments, therapy/rehabilitation sessions, and emotional challenges. However, my experience is just one chapter in a much larger story, one that affects women across the world.
My personal journey through a brain injury offers a unique perspective, but it's essential to understand that I am not alone in this struggle. Traumatic brain injuries are a significant health concern, affecting countless individuals worldwide. In recent years, studies have shed light on an alarming trend: women, particularly young women, are increasingly at risk.
Consider these statistics:
Traumatic brain injuries are more common in women than men, and they account for a substantial portion of all brain injuries.
Motor vehicle accidents, falls, and sports-related injuries are the leading causes of traumatic brain injuries among women.
Young women, especially those involved in sports, face a higher risk of sustaining brain injuries. Females may be more susceptible to concussions, and they also have worse and prolonged symptoms after their injury than men, according to a review of 25 studies of sport-related concussions published in the Orthopedic Journal of Sports Medicine.
However, women remain significantly underrepresented within sport and exercise science research. This, experts warn, means they often do not get the treatment or aftercare they need following a head injury.
As we delve deeper into my journey and the extensive rehabilitation I underwent, it is crucial to remember that my experience is not isolated. It is a microcosm of the broader issue of women's brain injuries, a subject that demands greater awareness and targeted interventions. Let us continue exploring my story and consider how we can collectively address this silent crisis.
I got my information from this CNN article.
Before I proceed, I would like to make a disclaimer.
This is an ongoing trauma that I am still working through. While I have accepted it, it doesn’t mean that I no longer experience anger and frustration about the situation. I think my therapist said it best, “you were dealt a shitty hand and are handling it beautifully.”
And with that, let’s get into it…
I remember the moment so vividly. It was a weekend when my parents wanted to get some yard work done due to the temperate late summer/early fall temperatures. I remember we were cleaning out our outdoor dog kennel - one that had three metal sides and would connect up to the outside of our house. It wasn't anything special. My dad recently bought something to create a roof on this kennel and he wanted to put it up that afternoon. We cleaned the inside of the kennel first, getting all the items out of it. My dad was working on putting the roofing pieces together as I was hosing down the concrete from all the dirt and dead leaves that had harbored over the winter, spring, and summer months. As my dad put up two of the metal roof structure pieces, they suddenly detached, and one piece fell right on top of the crown of my head. It was a freak accident that changed my life forever.
At first, I didn't realize the gravity of my injury. I didn't lose consciousness, but I was left with a persistent headache. It was only a few days later that my parents and I decided to seek medical help. I underwent a series of tests at our local hospital, including the typical brain injury protocols like eye-tracking and balance tests. It was then that I received the diagnosis: a concussion. I was also instructed to repeat the baseline test my school used to monitor the cognitive impact of brain injuries; it gave you words and shapes to memorize, you would get a score and then take it after the concussion diagnosis, and assuming you would do worse, you would have to continue to take it until you got a similar score.
In a strange turn of events, I performed better on my baseline test after the concussion than before it. The high school’s athletic trainer informed my family that we needed to monitor my symptoms, but it didn't seem overly concerning at the time.
The days and weeks following my diagnosis are somewhat of a blur. I found myself enrolled in physical, speech, and occupational therapy and prescribed medication for headaches and sleep to aid in brain healing. I returned to school on a limited schedule, attending three days a week and dedicating the other two days to therapy. I remember the days that I would attend school looked something like this:
6:30 a.m. - Wake up
7:00 a.m. - Get ready for school
7:30 a.m. - Drive to school (In hindsight, this was not a smart decision)
8:05 a.m. - Attend the 8-hour school day
3:45 p.m. - Drive home
4:00 p.m. - Take a nap
7:30 p.m. - Wake up for dinner and a shower
10:00 p.m. - Go to bed
And I repeated this pretty much every weekday.
This period of my high school life was particularly challenging and killed my social life.
Despite the difficulties, I developed a liking for physical therapy. It provided relief to my neck and shoulders through the use of massage, and I enjoyed discussing sports with my therapist, even memorizing all 32 NFL teams to aid my memory.
On the other hand, occupational therapy proved to be a greater challenge. I struggled to connect with my therapist and loathed word games, which was understandable given my difficulties with forming complete thoughts and sentences at that time.
Speech therapy became a lifeline for me, and I continued with it for nearly a year after the concussion. My therapist's assistance with homework was invaluable.
A significant turning point in my recovery was when my mom took me to an intake appointment at Madonna Rehab in Lincoln. During this appointment, a problem with my vision was uncovered. I had been reading lines of text twice without even noticing. This contributed to my persistent headaches and fatigue. Over the next 16 weeks, I commuted to Lincoln every other week with my dad for vision therapy sessions. Although I was back at school full-time during the spring semester, I was no longer taking advanced placement classes.
My concussion not only affected me physically but also took a toll on my mental health. I became extremely depressed, feeling like an outcast due to the extensive rehabilitation process. I lacked support from my peers, which made me feel isolated. I was also incredibly frustrated with myself because I couldn’t understand why my brain wouldn’t do what I told it to do. In addition to the rehabilitation appointments, my parents sought individual therapy for me to help with the overwhelming challenges I faced. Even my therapist had a hard time understanding that my struggles weren't solely due to a lack of motivation but rather a feeling of being overwhelmed and unwell.
In high school, my accommodations were relatively minimal, reflecting the personal struggles I faced in the wake of my brain injury. I had the option to take tests or quizzes in a quiet testing location, and occasionally, teachers would grant me extra time to complete assignments or assessments.
It's worth noting that some teachers readily provided these accommodations without much resistance. My father, who happened to be one of the school administrators, might have played a part in this ease of access. He did his best to approach these situations as a supportive parent rather than an administrator.
High school was not only a journey of recovery but also a time when my interactions with peers carried a significant emotional weight. One instance that still lingers in my memory involved a classmate, someone I had looked up to since elementary school.
They were the embodiment of success: athletic, academically gifted, and surrounded by friends. We shared an advanced chemistry class and one day, they complained about having a B- in the class to a small group, including me. I tried to offer some support, saying something along the lines of, "Don't worry, I have a C." In response, they looked at me with a mixture of amusement and belittlement, and they casually remarked, "Well, that's because you don't even do anything in class."
The truth was, I did put in effort in that class, but it wasn't visible to others. I would sit through the lectures, and then, when I got home, I would spend an additional hour and a half at my kitchen table copying down the lecture slides that other students had noted during class. My high school grades might not have been exceptional, but at that point in my life, my primary goal was to obtain my diploma. I didn't care about how well I performed academically; I was doing my best to navigate the aftermath of my brain injury.
This interaction and similar ones reinforced the feeling of being an outsider during a crucial period of personal and academic development. However, it also fueled my determination to overcome my challenges and succeed, not for anyone else's validation, but for my own well-being and future.
When choosing the right college, the presence of a robust Student Services with Disabilities (SSD) office was a paramount consideration. The University of Nebraska-Lincoln pleasantly surprised me with its substantial SSD support. During my initial visit, I engaged in a straightforward discussion with the SSD office, clarifying my needs in the classroom.
This pivotal resource didn't just provide accommodations; it played a silent but vital role in my academic journey, making my college experience not only manageable but transformative. However, it's important to note that the empathy shown by the SSD office and some professors was not a universal experience. I encountered professors who didn't fully grasp the challenges I faced due to my disability. In one disheartening instance, a professor suggested I consider pursuing a two-year degree instead of the four-year path I had been pursuing, simply because it might be "easier" for me after struggling in their class. These experiences were a stark reminder that despite making it through high school and having SSD support in college, I didn't escape moments of belittlement because of my disability.
My college journey wasn't devoid of hurdles, but it underscored the importance of advocating for understanding, recognizing that each student's path is unique, and, ultimately, persevering despite occasional setbacks. With the right support and resilience, obstacles can be surmounted, and personal goals can be achieved.
In reflecting on my journey, it's essential to make one thing unequivocally clear: I don't hold anyone responsible for what happened to me. My brain injury wasn't the result of anyone's actions; it was one of those unpredictable facets of life, a path shaped by destiny and circumstance.
Through the trials and tribulations I faced, I discovered a profound reservoir of inner strength and resilience. My brain injury experience taught me more about myself than any other life event could. It reinforced that I am capable of overcoming even the most formidable challenges. I am grateful to have emerged on the other side, stronger, and more resilient.
Today, I stand here as a testament to the power of determination and the significance of unwavering support systems (thank you, Mom and Dad). I've achieved success both in my college journey and my career, and everything fell into place as I graduated from high school. Looking back, I couldn't have envisioned life taking any other path. My brain injury is a defining chapter in my story, one that has enriched my life with newfound wisdom, strength, and the unwavering belief that I can conquer whatever lies ahead, even when things get tough.
Happy National Brain Injury Awareness Month and Happy Frey-Day
It's wonderful to see you write about this, and congrats on all the improvement!