Six years ago, everyday liberties like planning my day, eating food, speaking, sleeping in an uncovered bed, and walking to another room independently became things I dreamed of being able to do. I was in a car accident that nearly cost me my life and left me with a traumatic brain. injury.
The first thing that comes to mind when I think of Thanksgiving 2016 was ensuring it was perfect. My dad told me he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a month earlier. For dinner, I was asked to bring a dessert. It was of the utmost importance to me to make it perfect. Naturally, I searched Pinterest. I decided to make these turkey cake pops. I spared no time or expense attempting to make them. The key word here was “attempt.” I wish I had photographic evidence as to how poorly they turned out. Reminiscing makes me chuckle. The photos had nothing on how horrible they tasted, however.
Luckily the terrible cake pops didn’t ruin the evening. We spent the night enjoying our time as a family, giving thanks for the moment we were in then and there.
When the time for me to head back to the apartment came, my dad told me he had a surprise for me. He brought in a big box from the garage and gave me my first Christmas tree.
**One of my favorite memories at Christmas time was putting up the Christmas tree with him. It was an artificial tree with color-coded bands indicating where to put each branch. My dad had a very particular method for putting the tree up; we put the branches on the bottom first, then worked our way up. I will add that he also had relatively high standards for fluffing the branches to make them look as “natural” as possible.
This Christmas tree was the sweetest surprise, and I was excited to have received my first Christmas tree from my dad. We loaded it into the car and my suitcase, hugged each other, and I headed home. When I got to the apartment, my boyfriend helped me bring the tree in, and we immediately put it up in our living room.
The next part of the story I don’t remember very clearly. It went something like …. I left my toothbrush at my parent’s house. Kroger was a 5-minute drive from the apartment, so we hopped into the car to grab a toothbrush. We were on the interstate, and I don’t remember much traffic. I do, however, remember a yellow blinking arrow at the stoplight.
** Now, understand when I say this; I went to driver’s ed. I know that when turning left, you must yield to oncoming traffic. I don’t know if I had not understood what the yellow blinking arrow meant or thought it was safe because I didn’t see any cars. Regardless of what happened, I made a left turn. I failed to notice a truck coming at me at full speed. This truck hit my boyfriends’ side of the car, but I was impacted the most because I was not wearing my seatbelt.
This is where our story begins.
I was knocked out unconscious immediately.
A call to 911 was made, and an ambulance was on its way.
The ambulance took me to an Eskenazi Hospital downtown. I spent two weeks there in the intensive care unit.
My mom kept an extensive journal of my day-to-day journey.
After rereading through my time at Eskenazi, it seemed that I was unresponsive for a lot of my time there. The journal says that I had a DAI-shearing injury – there was damage between gray (inner) and white matter. There were no signs of aneurysms, but an arteriogram showed bleeding in my brain. I had multiple seizures and was given a trach and feeding tube.
My next stop was the Rehabilitation Hospital of Indiana. RHI.
This is where most of my memories are from.
Upon my arrival at the hospital, I was told I was kicking and violently hitting anyone who tried to get near me. My mom told me that the nursing staff tried to block and restrain me to stop the aggression. A nurse there named Kimmie told everyone to let go of me. Once people stopped trying to control me, I calmed down. This was the first few days at the hospital.
I have so many memories from RHI. I remember there was a big table in the lobby where all the patients would wait for their subsequent therapy; sometimes, they’d be eating or sitting to socialize outside their rooms. A mean girl named Angela kept telling me my boyfriend would cheat on me while I was in the hospital. I remember another girl, Trisha, who always swore and was very bossy.
I remember my favorite nurse Kimmie and always being so excited to see her in the mornings. The receptionists at the front desk of the floor were named Zander and Myrtle. I remember Zander loved the popcorn from Target and gave the most endearing hugs. I remember singing with my Myrtle Turtle at the front desk. We sang Selena Gomez and Charlie Puth’s “We don’t talk anymore.”
I remember my time at RHI being a rollercoaster. I was always happy when people visited me but upset when they had to leave. I remember looking out the window, watching cars go by, and wishing I could leave. I remember feeling so guilty for making my dad worry about me when he went through chemo treatments and not being there to take care of him. I felt so much responsibility for making him make the trip to the hospital to come and see me.
There came the point when there was talk of me going home. I was over the moon excited about it. I just wanted to go home with my boyfriend and return to life. I remember they kept pushing the date further and further back. I remember feeling anxiety and anger. All I wanted was to go home. I had to pass many physical therapy tests to be discharged from the hospital. I remember thinking, I must do this, and this and this and this to MAYBE be able to go home. It was the most defeating thing in the world. The biggest test I remember was walking up and down stairs. My apartment was on the second floor. This was a test I failed time and time again. I felt there was no hope and I would never return home.
The doctors agreed to discharge me from the hospital on the contingency that I go to my parent’s home. I was on my way out of there. We had a celebration in the gym on my discharge date. I got to get out of my wheelchair and rang a bell that told everyone I had graduated from my therapies and was on my way out of inpatient care. I still had a long way to go, but this was the first time I took pride in what I had achieved versus letting myself feel discouraged about what I still had in front of me.
I remember them wheeling me out to my boyfriends car and the joy inside me when I got into it and drove away.
I sit back and think of everything I have learned throughout my journey at RHI.
-Life truly is precious and can change in an instant
-Genuine love/friendship is revealed at the most challenging times
-Things that you do every day that someone else is praying to be able to do
-Don’t take things for granted
-You are capable of anything you put your mind to
-Kindness and empathy will open so many doors for you and others
-Instead of seeing what you have left to do, look at how far you have come.
This chapter of my life was full of lessons that I wouldn’t have been able to experience any other way. As strenuous as this time in my life was, I wouldn’t take it back. What I’ve learned and how I’ve grown wouldn’t have transpired in any other circumstance. I wouldn’t have the people I met through this experience in my life, and I wouldn’t know the strength or tenacity I had. There is always good to be found if you look hard enough. My traumatic brain injury is a part of me; it is not who I am. I’m thankful still be here and to share the lessons I have cultivated throughout my journey. I believe to my core, that is why I am still here.
