To the numbers of you who have commented and spoken to me about this blog, thank you. Your comments and kind support are very appreciated and I’m thrilled to hear that you’re enjoying it.
My intent is to actively blog about my experience with, and recovery from a traumatic brain injury, and to share selections from the “book” as I edit it (which is nearly a complete rewriting of it).
As a refresher to those who haven’t read the pages here in their entirety, this blog began in mid-August this year after a session I had with my wellness coach, Melodie Matice, who encouraged me to complete the book. I suffered a traumatic brain injury and other physical problems after an automobile accident in 1998. On October 23, 1998, I awoke from a dream of sorts with the book title, character names, chapter outlines and a voice in my head that said, “write the book.” So, I did. Two years later, I put it aside. It was an awful first draft; a cathartic self-absorbed rant really. I meant to get back to it, but was busy healing and recovering and I guess ultimately completing my own story; finishing the work that needed to be done to put humpty-dumpty back together again. In January 2001, when the book was put aside, there was no happy ending. There was no hope.
To those who have asked, the book has not yet been published, because, again, it really was just a crappy first draft. I’ve been happily writing almost every day and making massive changes. It will get published eventually, but it’s far from ready.
We last left Camryn sitting in the physical therapist's office embraced in a memory of Salvatore (blog dates: Saturday, August 29, and Friday, September 11, 2009).
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“Are you Camryn?” There was kindness in his deep resonant voice.
“Yes”
“I’m Baxter, Baxter Stanwood. Please come in,” he turned and slowly walked into the inner offices and entered the room on the left.
As Camryn stood up to follow him, she saw that the older couple was gone and a woman with out of control gray hair was sitting in one of the chairs, her head leaning against the wall, eyes closed and mouth agape.
The room looked like a small gym with foam pads strewn around, therapy balls, free weights, benches and an exam table. Baxter sat on a large red ball and motioned for her to sit in a chair next to the desk.
“I see here from Dr. Siemens’ notes from yesterday that you had a motor vehicle accident Saturday night. That’s great that you’re in here so quickly. Tell me more about what happened.” She repeated the story for the second, but it wouldn’t most certainly be the last time.
“The headache bothers me a lot. And lights and sounds are too much. It’s like everything just got brighter and louder. Why is that?”
“How are you today?”
“I’m sore and still stiff. It feels like my head is too heavy, like my neck muscles aren’t strong enough to hold it up.”
“Have you filled the prescription for the pain medication that Dr. Siemens gave you yesterday?” he glanced down at the chart again.
“No.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and do that. It’ll help. What he’s ordered in a non-narcotic medication and a muscle relaxer. One of the reasons you’re experiencing pain is that some of your muscles are tightening as a result of the jarring they received in the accident. The problems you're having with light and sound are something different.”
“Ok, I think I have that prescription,” she said as she shuffled through her purse. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”
“Well, let me know if you can’t find it,” he said softly, “and I’ll have Dr. Siemens fill out another one.”
“OK”
Baxter placed the chart on the desk and gestured for her to sit on the exam table. He faced her. “Before I begin my exam, I’m going to tell you three words. Listen carefully. It’s important that you remember them. Ready?” He looked her in the eyes.
“Apple, Bicycle, Pencil,” he said slowly, “be sure to remember them.” He spent the next forty-five minutes asking her to do various maneuvers, turns and bends. He asked her to resist while he pushed down, then up on her arms, then left, right, forward and backward to her head. He periodically made notes in her chart, then asked her to do a few additional maneuvers.
He sat back down on the red ball and explained some of his findings, then referred back to the chart. “You know, it says here that Dr. Siemens thinks you may have suffered a traumatic brain injury.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, he wrote that he mentioned this to you.”
“Oh!”
“So, what do you think of that?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m OK.”
“Dr. Siemens’ note says you got lost on the way here yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, I guess I did.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit out of the ordinary?”
“I don’t think so, I was never at this office before.”
“How long have you lived in Boulder?”
“OK, I got lost getting here yesterday,” she said as her annoyance edged to the surface.
He stood, moved the red ball closer to her and touched her on the arm. “All I’m saying is that we see this kind of thing here in this office every day. It's just possible that the jarring effects from the impact of the accident caused a mild brain injury.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell me the three words I asked you to remember.” She couldn’t. She sighed.
“Think of it like this, the brain is an uncooked egg inside a hard plastic container. Now, imagine that you throw the container as hard as you possibly can against the wall. The plastic container looks fine, but the egg inside is scrambled. The soft tissue of the surface of the brain gets torn and sheared as it bangs against the hard surface of the skull. Some of the symptoms of a mild brain injury, which is sometimes called post-concussive syndrome, include headaches, confusion, short-term memory loss, slowed thinking,” he could see her agitation growing, “and a few other things.”
“You think this happened to me?”
“Yes, it’s possible. I agree with Dr. Siemens’ suggestion that you see the speech therapist and schedule an appointment with the psychologist for a neuro-psychological exam.”
“OK, I’ll think about it.”
“Great! I’ll see you Thursday at 2:00 pm.”
Camryn would grow to have a great fondness for Baxter. He lived in downtown Boulder in a renovated bungalow with his partner of twenty years. He described himself and Jim as an old married couple with their two dogs and quiet lifestyle.
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