Brain Injury Throughout My Lifespan

By Rebekah Vandergriff, LMSW, CBIST

I will begin with who I was before my traumatic brain injury (TBI). I was a 22-year-old busy woman working two jobs, and had recently moved back to Kansas City, Mo., after spending a year modeling in Dallas. Life came to a screeching halt on June 3, 1989. I have a few memories of that summer.

My TBI caused me to require therapy to teach me the basics: walking, talking, eating, toileting, etc. At 22, I became a 5’11” infant. What a humbling experience. Today, I experience hemiparesis affecting my right arm, and I drag my right leg trying to keep up with my left side, which was unaffected by the TBI (or so I thought). I have lived 36 years acquiring compensatory strategies to live with my short-term memory loss, swallowing challenges, double vision, etc. Anything and everything will require more effort and extra time. To not remain in a state of depression, I have had to learn not to compare myself to my peers.

When my insurance tapped out in the summer of 1990, l was forced to use life as therapy. I lived on Social Security Disability Income (SSDI). Therefore, I qualified for the Pell Grant and my state’s Vocational Rehabilitation assistance. I consciously chose to ignore the bleak prognosis from the medical community. I was barely writing with my non-dominant hand. In fact, the first time I signed my name using my left hand was for my school ID. I used school as rehabilitation, albeit at a slow pace. In 1993, I gave birth to my first child with the man I would eventually marry. I earned my bachelor’s degree in social work (BSW) by May of 1997. I chose social work because I knew I eventually wanted to work in the field of acquired brain injury (ABI) recovery.

I continued to go to school, working hard to maintain my cognitive skills, and exceeded all expectations. By May of 2000, I earned my master’s degree, and in June became licensed in Social Work (LMSW). By 2003, we had two more children. Somewhere in my busy life, 3 discs in my neck began bulging and swelling. My unknown spinal cord damage caused my left, only good arm, to be too painful to use. One disc needed to be surgically removed. I was doing too much again.

Time off from work allowed me to finish my growing manuscript. After six months of editing, in December of 2008, I published “What Day Is It?” A Family’s Journey through Traumatic Brain Injury. I realized that it’s not about “me” or who I was, but about “us” and who I am today.

I lived on SSDI for a total of 12 years after my TBI. I live every day with the evidence of what my TBI has left behind. My right side inevitably follows a beat behind my left. If I pay too much attention, I recognize the stigma that accompanies having different abilities. When I am out in public, I rationalize the extended looks as curiosity. I have educated more than my fair share of strangers about TBI.

Daily, I empathize with survivors. I am familiar with the feelings of loss and personal disappointment caused by the physical and emotional scars left behind by brain injury. I could have easily stayed on this dark, familiar course. It is necessary to stay steady and set a course by shining a bright light on what a survivor can do to make life meaningful again. I hold my head high and meet the eyes of those who doubt my abilities. I know that I have worked hard to sit at the same table as everyone else. It may take me longer to get there, but I get there just the same.