Changing the Past

Changing the past? I don’t think so.

By profession, I am a Registered Nurse specializing in Psychiatric Care. I also hold National Certification as a School Nurse. I know a lot about the brain and how it functions both physically and emotionally. It didn’t protect me.

My TBI occurred in May 2008, as the result of an auto accident. I was one of those whose TBI was missed in the ER. I returned to work for seven months. All the while trying to figure out what was wrong with me, I slowly came unraveled, increasingly unable to manage my caseload, the medications for all the outpatient clients, complete paperwork, keep up with details and multitasking required of my job as the only RN/therapist in the Out Patient Department in a Community Center with the South Carolina Department of Mental Health. My office looked as if there had been an explosion in a PostIt factory as I kept writing notes to myself; but I had no idea what they meant as soon as I had written them. I couldn’t remember.

In a manner of speaking, it was fortunate for me, that a ruptured disc and one partial rupture in my neck had also been missed in the ER.  The loss of function in my arm, and referral to a neurologist, resulted in a diagnosis of depression and anxiety that had developed over these months. Neuropsych testing was ordered, an MRI followed and a diagnosis of TBI was made shortly thereafter.

There was relief to know exactly what was causing my confusion, loss of recall, and ability to function as I had always done. But I was forced to retire from direct client care. How was I to figure out who this new woman was—to redefine myself as a ‘retired RN?’ I am still blind sided when these deficits pop up unexpectedly during stressful times.

And I am still grieving the loss of self who worked so diligently to become an RN—a dream held since the age of four—the woman who stayed up studying, sometimes all night—who had a husband and 3 year old to care for—who had to travel from Virginia to Ohio for 10 weeks to complete pediatrics—terrified the first time I walked onto a hospital unit to talk with a patient, but knew immediately, with the first words spoken, that this was the place, my career, this was ‘home.’

I never received any ‘rehab’ after my injury, nor have I since. My neurologist simply said, “You’ll get better or you won’t.” I was not happy with that response! As an RN, I know that the brain can be very forgiving, but damage is damage.  Sometimes, I think I am recovering some functions. But then, I get stressed, and am right back where I was—fumbling for words, unable to remember to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, unable to learn scripture, spell simple words, remember someone’s name I’ve known for decades, short-tempered with those I love because I can no longer come up with the expertise I expect of myself. 

Oh, yes, those things ‘happen to everyone.’ Well, they never happened to me—ever. So it is very frustrating when they do now. I am learning to accept that the damage is probably permanent. But I have retained more than I’ve lost. I am so very, very blessed in the midst of it all.

And I have found an enormously wonderful support group! And that has helped so much. Because when they say, “That happens to me too,” it does not frustrate. It comforts, because I know that they REALLY understand what it is like to have lost something that once came so easily—that was once a skill, a part of daily living, a part of me, that allowed me to be who I had always been, and now, am not, and will never be again.

But I have found something that I did not know in my muddled self. God has not been silent. I still am able to use the gifts he originally gave me—those gifts of discernment and caring and compassion that enabled and drew me to nursing in the first place and to psych nursing in particular. I still do virtually the same thing I was doing professionally—only it is at my church—and I don’t have to do the paperwork! What a blessing, for them and especially for me!

I am much calmer than I used to be. I don’t worry or fret or stress over little things—not even over the big things really. Because noise bothers me a great deal, I have had to eliminate it from my life. My husband and I no longer watch TV—partly because I could not follow the plots after the interruption of the commercials. But mostly, we did away with it because TV just seemed so superficial and pointless. This freed up a great deal of time for us to talk, which had a very positive affect on our relationship. 

Difficult and different—I am being transformed everyday and I must say the changes are not altogether disheartening, nor unwelcomed.

Do I wish that the accident had never happened? Well, I am not so sure. We were coming back from a lovely ‘date night,’ and simply having a conversation. In what seemed both an instant and a horrifying lifetime, with sounds I will never forget and pain that lingers, we went from driving 55mph in our wonderful Jeep, to a complete stop bouncing off the trailer of a pickup hauling a John Deere tractor—he had run a stop sign. It was a true miracle that all three of us were not killed. My husband had a few bruises. I had no broken bones. The other driver was not injured at all.

I have severe arthritis and fibromyalgia, and I must say that whatever crushed against both my knees was not appreciated. I initially thought it was the engine. We think it must have been the open glove box—that my body and legs bounced forward and up that high, even with a seatbelt. The airbag felt as though it caved in my chest and abraded my face. It burned the skin off part of my right hand. And obviously, the force of it slamming my head back and forth against the seat was what caused my neck injury and the TBI. The accident changed my life forever. It took away my identity as an RN, and I am still learning who I am now. I am profoundly different. But God has taught me a great deal about life, about people, about myself.

I am not sure I would have been able to listen to him as well or been primed to have learned what I have learned these past few years without this ‘intervention.’ And I know my relationship with my husband would not have grown as it has. God would not be transforming me into the Godly woman that he has always seen and wanted me to become. I think I am a believer in not changing the past—simply trying to ask for his help in living in the present. And I am so very grateful to be here—doing just that.