What has Happened to me?

One of the questions that Courtney has been asking Diane and I is " What has happened to me?"
This question is common for many people with brain injuries and is part of the healing process of a traumatic brain injury. When the brain gets injured many things can happen depending upon the site of the injury. For example the portion of the brain that controls the concept of "the self image" can cause conflicting messages to be sent between other areas of the brain.

Imagine for a minute that you wake up and you remember some events from your past yet other events are not quite clear. You cannot quite figure out why things are different. You remember that you were good at math but now you cannot quite figure out how much change you get after spending $1.00 from a $5.00 bill after a small purchase. Things don't seem to compute quite as easily in the afternoon as they did in the morning. You remember how to make a meal but somehow when you read a new recipe you cannot quite put it all together. It can take it's toll on your self image. It takes constant reassurance and a strong will to overcome negative thoughts that accompany her on a daily if not hourly basis.

The above examples are just a few of the many situations that Courtney has overcome through hard work at therapy during the day. At night Diane and Courtney will play board games(scrabble, jeopardy, etc) to continue the relearning process. Courtney knows that these types of cognitive exercises bring her closer to her goal of returning to the University of Rhode Island and that is why she presses on, every day and every night. Working her way back to "her life".

A few months ago Diane found a story written by a young woman with a brain injury. The story was entitled " A letter from you Brain" and was written by Stephanie St.Claire. The following is the text of the letter. Diane and I found the letter to be very accurate and shows the inner strength God and provided to people with brain injuries.

A Letter From Your Brain by Stephanie St. Claire

Hello,
I'm glad to see that you are awake! This is your brain talking. I had to find some way to communicate with you. I feel like I barely survived WWIII and am still not quite all in one piece. That's why I need you. I need you to take care of me.
As time passes and you and I feel better and better, people, even doctors, will tell you that we are fine, "it's time to get on with life." That sounds good to me and probably even better to you. But before you go rushing back out into that big wide world, I need you to listen to me, really listen. Don't shut me out. Don't tune me out. When I'm getting into trouble I'll need your help more than I ever have before.
I know that you want to believe that we are going to be the same. I'll do my best to make that happen. The problem is that too many people in our situation get impatient and try to rush the healing process; or when their brains can't fully recover they deny it and, instead of adapting, they force their brains to function in ways they are no longer able too. Some people even push their brains until they seize, and worse... I'm scared. I'm afraid that you will do that to me. If you don't accept me I am lost. We both will be lost.
How can I tell you how much I need you now? I need you to accept me as I am today... not for what I used to be, or what I might be in the future. So many people are so busy looking at what their brains used to do, as if past accomplishments were a magical yardstick to measure present success or failures that they fail to see how far their brains have come. It's as if here is shame, or guilt, in being injured. Silly, huh?
Please don't be embarrassed or feel guilt, or shame, because of me. We are okay. We have made it this far. If you work with me we can make it even further. I can't say how far. I won't make any false promises. I can only promise you this, that I will do my best.
What I need you to do is this: because neither of us knows how badly I've been hurt (things are still a little foggy for me), or how much I will recover, or how quickly, please go s-l-o-w-l-y when you start back trying to resume your life. If I give you a headache, or make you sick to your stomach, or make you unusually irritable, or confused, or disoriented, or afraid, or make you feel that you are overdoing it, I'm trying to get your attention in the only way I can. Stop and listen to me.
I get exhausted easily since being hurt, and cannot succeed when overworked. I want to succeed as much as you do. I want to be as well as I can be, but I need to do it at a different pace than I could before I got hurt. Help me to help us by paying attention and heeding the messages I send to you.

I will do my part to do my very best to get us back on our feet. I am a little worried though that if I am not exactly the same you will reject me. I want us to live, and breath and be, even if being is not the same as it was. Different may be better. It may be harder too, but I don't want you to give up. Don't give up on me. Don't give up on yourself. Our time here isn't through yet. There are things that I want to do and I want to try, even if trying has to be done in a different way. It isn't easy. I have to work very hard, much harder, and I know that you do too. I see people scoff, and misunderstand. I don't care. What I do care about is that you understand how hard I am working and how much I want to be as good as I can be, but I need you to take good care of us, as well as you can do that.
Don't be ashamed of me. We are alive. We are still here. I want the chance to try to show you what we are made of. I want to show you the things that are really important in life. We have been given another chance to be better, to learn what is really important. When it is finally time for our final exit I would like to look back and feel good about what we made of us and out of everything that made up our life, including this injury. I cannot do it without you. I cannot do it if you hate me for the way being injured has affected me and our life together. Please try not to be bitter in grief. That would crush me.
Please don't reject me. There is little I can do without you, without your determination to not give up. Take good care of us and of yourself. I need you very much, especially now.

Love,
your wounded brain