On Being Brain Injured--and coming back all the way.

I have been holding a small treasure in my hands for five years---one I
never thought I'd use. Five years ago, on July 21, 2006, at the age of 70,
my father fell down a concrete stairwell---backwards, airborne-landing on
his head, cracking his skull and traumatizing his brain so severely that he
actually suffered hematomas in the back and front of his brain.subdural
bilateral hematomas, s subarachnoid hematoma and a contra coup injury.
Doctors gave us little to hope for his full recovery, pursing their lips in
that insanely irritating fashion and shrugging their shoulders, saying
things like, "Be prepared for anything, you father may need lifetime nursing
care, but, he could recover, it just depends."
Well, gee. Thanks. I'd listen to these vague pronouncements desperate for
a kernel of good news and think to myself, "You just don't know my dad. You
just don't have any idea who you are talking about!" DO you know.what he's
done in this life? Do you know his dad died at 14 and he carried on? DO
you know he left Ireland for American at 24 not knowing and soul and has
risen to the top of his profession? DO you know he's made of grit and iron,
that he reads The Economist for FUN and that he can shoot a deer at 300
yards? DO you know any of this?
But, really, they don't know. Dad was just another 7 out of 10 on the brain
injury scale. I remember days just staring at him, willing him to say
something, to be dad, to just come back.when you spend time in a hospital
the smell gets into your skin, the beeps and machine noises become
background noise, the sterile walls, and endless parade of nurses, doctors
and interns become almost comical."who are you again?" It is work, visiting
the hospital, vainly trying to put on a game face for the one you love.
Dad's brain swelled, and swelled and swelled, the doctor's hummed and hawed
about surgery. We drifted in limbo for days, dad merely following us with
this eyes, unable to speak anymore, feed himself, to really do anything.
Mostly he was sedated, in pain, and bewildered. His cracked skull saved his
butt, giving his brain just enough space to swell and relieving pressure on
his brainstem.so he was in a waking coma if you will.
Day 11---ICU---the doctors determine we can move dad to 'regular care' he is
in no danger of more swelling.but he is virtually paralyzed, entirely mute
and incapable of notifying a nurse or pressing a call button. He is like an
infant.we are devastated.no one seems to be able to tell us if he will
Improve. "Wait for the swelling to go down, wait for the hematomas to heal
and the blood to be absorbed" How long? Then what? I wanted answers so
desperately, and none were given.
Week 3 - 8 Dad enters the Rehab Institute
Amazing progress is made, he starts walking, talking (sometimes pure
nonsense), feeding himself, being independent. It is just astonishing.
Doctors are amazed (I want to say, yeah, I told you so---you had no idea who
you were talking about). He wants to get back to work, back in "the chair."
My dad is a psychoanalyst and when he fell he left so many mentally ill, sad
and needy patients in limbo, many who were lifetime patients my father saw
pro bono---many who just missed talking to him, it was as tragic for his
patients as it was for all of us. The letters, the pleading, so many of
them just praying and hoping he would come back soon. About midway through
his long, grueling recovery I wanted so badly to find a way to help him heal
more quickly..hours of research later and I found Dr. Wright at Grady. I
emailed him and asked about his amazing work with brain injured patients.
Regretfully, he told me that my father was too late for his treatments.that
the pioneering work he was doing only worked on immediately injured
patients---within days of the fall or accident. I'd only wish that I'd
known about Grady and Dr. Wright when dad fell---but why would I have ever
know that? I hated watching dad struggle so hard and wished I could do
something, but Dr. Wright told me the rest was up to dad now.
And so it was. He returned to his "chair" in February---just 6 months after
his fall. Doctors were astonished, amazed! Hello? Did I not tell them..?
The iron and grit persevered, today, after five years, dad is dad. His only
lingering issue? He curses like sailor.but he did that before, and he is
75, so I think he just doesn't care. He's earned it.
BUT, about that treasure. I carried that gift of Dr. Wright in my heart for
years, wondering at all the brain injured people out there (Iraq war vets)
who did not know and who were missing out, enduring long recovery times.and
all the while, right here in the ATL at Grady amazing things were happening,
cutting recovery time in patients, essentially taking the grueling sting out
of recovery..it stayed with me, and I followed Dr. Wright and his progress
with brain injury patients..thinking if I ever had the chance to help
someone else with my knowledge I'd jump on it.
Then Thomas fell---and we waited all day for news, when Virginia sent out
the diagnosis, diffuse axonal shearing, I knew it was serious. I remember
thinking, "Well, they probably know about Grady and Dr. Wright.surely those
Ashville docs know?" Then I'd worry, "what if they don't? What if the
regular neurosurgeon is on vacation and some nincompoop intern is handling
Thomas' case?" Not able to sleep, I did what I'd never do, I stuck my nose
into other people's business..I emailed Virginia, put a posting on her
Facebook page, but knew it wasn't enough.I emailed Robin Merrill, Robin
Giles, Donna Creech and called Gary Guerino. Gary thought I might have
something useful to share so he gave me Jim's number .I called, slightly
appalled at myself for intruding on what I knew was an awful time, and lo,
just across from Jim was the social worker trying to negotiate Thomas'
transfer to Grady.I spoke with her and told her what I knew, I had my file
of scholarly articles from Dr. wright proving the cost savings to the
insurance company (shorter recovery, shorter hospital stay).I sent all of it
to her. Hours later Thomas was on his way to Grady and Dr. Wright.who Gary
told me later was actually waiting on him in the hospital.
Who knows if my pestering made any difference, it may have been old news to
everyone, but I think God's hand was in all of this. If nothing, it was such
a tremendous gift to me to be able to finally see someone benefit from
treatment that I'd learned about too late for our family. Dad's struggled,
but he came back all the way. Thomas is at Grady, he has the best doctors
in the best facility in the world and a tidal wave of prayer and love
underneath him, the momentum is all his.and his return will be swift and
sure. I feel it deep in my bones. And, my heart sings. KKB