Sitting here in my studio, I see snowdrifts shoved against the wooden fence in our front yard. Deer tracks have marred the soft white carpet lying over our green lawn peeking through into the frigid air. Winter has arrived. I am peeking out, closely guarding my “personal secret”- I am a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) survivor of 23 years.
Four years ago, I came “out of the closet “ about my TBI while at Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference held every Spring in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. Gathering my courage, I bravely shared at the dinner table that I was writing a book about traumatic brain injury.
Quickly, I uttered the words before I lost my nerve. Voice shaking, I tried to speak clearly and emphatically.
“I am a traumatic brain injury survivor, and also suffer from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) due to the circumstances around my injuries. I am planning to write a handbook with strategies to help TBI survivors cope with their disabilities and rebuild their lives.”
My heart pounded.
My lips quivered.
My hands perspired
My eyes lowered.
My head hurt
I quickly took a deep breath and looked down at the table. I was scared of the reaction I expected to hear, because for so many years, I had carried deep feelings of disappointment, shame, and hurt.
My life pre-bonk had ended, as I knew it, I lived in a smoldering pyre of devastation in the unknown TBI World.
I am no longer “A one-woman show”.I still wish to be independent.
I do struggle with keeping my life, projects, and paperwork organized,
I do forget where I put things so they will be available.
I do forget appointments.
My ears heard affirmations from dinner mates, total strangers until tonight, aspiring writers like myself.
Acceptance
Encouragement
Interest
Love
My ex-husband, after 25 years of marriage, told me to never to discuss my TBI diagnosis again.My daughter and my son, aged 23 and 21, had great difficulty accepting the physical and emotional changes in their post-bonk Mama.
My family of origin abandoned me-no phone calls or visits.
Many of my friends never visited or called.
Many of my doctors and physical therapists called me a hypochondriac as I searched for better medical care and treatment for my chronic pain and disabilities caused by the TBI. I had to be my own patient advocate.
As a survivor who had developed some strategies to reclaim and rebuild my life. I stated I was deeply concerned about rehabilitation for our soldiers returning from war and football players with repeated concussions leading to TBI. With a shaking, quivering voice I quietly shared my writing plans with the other aspiring writers.
Karen Ball, a literary agent from Oregon, was leading the introductions for our table. She was interested in seeing my book proposal and first three chapters when I had them completed. I was so shocked and excited; I didn’t know what to say. It was 2015 and I never completed nor sent Karen my proposal or chapters. I was courageous, but so overwhelmed with the proposed project.
“I don’t think I could ever complete such an assignment”, whirred through my thoughts. I regularly forget my medical appointments, how could I ever meet writing and editing deadlines? Impossible.
This was my third year at the conference, so I had come equipped with more confidence, writing skills and ideas of what type of writing to pursue. For over a year I had been writing “Hummingbird Whisperings-God’s Nectar For Your Soul”- a human interest devotional for my church’s monthly newsletter that was mailed out to over 400 homes throughout the United States.
As I sit at my laptop, tiptoeing into the cyber world of blogging, I am ready for this new commitment. I have thought about it for the past six years, when I decided to become a non-fiction writer.
I have gathered courage from within to jump into this new experience with both feet. Sweating palms, shaking legs and clenched jaws just mean I am scared. Scared of what? Scared that I will fail all of you, my “TBI Tribe”-A group of persons having a common character, occupation, or interest, namely traumatic brain injury. How do you like my new definition? I have been on a long life journey of discovery into which this “Post-Bonk Priscilla” really is and what is she capable of now and in the future.
When I was bonked on the top of my head by a heavy computer and case falling from the overhead bin in a moving airplane, my world came to a grinding halt. Carried unconscious on a mummy board off the airplane into a waiting ambulance and delivered to the ER of a skid row hospital, I had no knowledge of what I had lost.
Three days later when I was able to stay awake more than four hours a day out of 24, I picked up the local newspaper from the kitchen table. As gazed at the print, my eyes jumped all over the page. I tried to focus again in order to read the front-page story. Again I tried to focus my eyes on the black print to no avail. I could not read the paper, nor could I comprehend any of the words. I understood NOTHING! One BIG BLANK!
Little did I know, this would be only one of many challenges I would face as my brain no longer processed in the way I had know my entire life. I was only 47 years old, in the prime of my life.
I was dizzy, with a terrible headache all the time, and living in a dark, black cave with an elephant sitting on my head.
I am a goal setter and a goal getter. Close friends and family members jokingly say that my middle name is” Perseverance”, because I might get knocked down in life, but I never give up.
Getting distracted, disoriented, forgetful, discouraged, and exhausted are constant companions of the post-bonk Priscilla. Always I try to remember the strengths and abilities of Pre-Bonk Priscilla as I strive to outsmart them or make friends with them as I plan each day. Life Planners (paper), phone apps and timers, color coding with plastic tabs and highlighters, ear plugs and noise cancelling headphones, sunglasses, and brain naps are just a few of my tips and tricks to survive and thrive as a TBI Survivor. Whether you are a TBI Survivor, caregiver, medical personnel, child, spouse, or loyal friend, I welcome you to the “TBI Tribe” here at Hummingbird Haven Inn. Please come in and sit awhile.
Share your thoughts, struggles, and celebrations. You are not alone.