Craig Meadows

This photo is of me in June, 2021 at the second hospital where I spent three days after my crash and brain injury. I’m starting to wonder why it was only three days, or why I was sent straight home from the hospital. Myself and two of my students were badly injured during drivers ed after being struck by a driver who was operating his vehicle at a high rate of speed under the influence of cocaine, marijuana, and methamphetamine.

I don’t remember the accident or even being on that NC roadway that day. I am told we had to be cut from the car and both myself and my student in back were knocked unconscious. She nearly died. I suppose we all nearly died when it comes down to it, but I feel very disconnected from that reality.

I don’t remember either ambulance ride or the first hospital. I only remember vague details of the second hospital. When I read the paramedic’s report now, it’s embarrassing to me to see that I was combative to rescue personnel after being a police officer myself in WV for so many years. I would have never knowingly acted that way toward people whose actions I am now so grateful for.

I look the same in the photograph, but looks can be deceiving. Brain injury is the most dehumanizing thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve also had to deal with several physical injuries from the crash, but nothing compares to the injured brain.

Your brain is really everything about you. When it’s injured, you find yourself in a confused and hopeless situation. The part of you that is injured is also what you find yourself trying to use to overcome your injuries. The vicious cycle of acceptance and denial of your brain injury begins. The lack of understanding about how you can do some things that make you feel normal, but struggle in other ways, is almost too much to take.

People don’t seem to understand what living with a brain injury is like. I’ve struggled over the last two and a half years to describe my experience. Lately, as I’ve adapted more, I feel like I can come close to describing it.

Imagine someone was given free reign to beat you with closed fists for four or five minutes and knocked you unconscious. Once you come to, someone sits you in a chair and helps you pull yourself together. You’re out of touch with yourself, confused, dazed, ears ringing, and can’t focus or pay attention. However, you can still walk, talk, read, type, tell people things, eat, drink, and many other “normal” things. You find yourself to be an emotional wreck, but don’t know why. That is how I felt the first year or so after my wreck.

Now imagine it’s a month after your beating and you’ve improved a little, but you still feel those things, some of them to a lesser degree. That is how I’ve felt since that first year or so, with very slight improvements along the way. Friends, family, and co-workers apparently have little idea what you’re experiencing. The only people that seem to understand are those who’ve traveled this road before you, or a few very special people who haven’t, but are somehow gifted with the ability to understand.

I’ve struggled to understand my brain injury since my crash. Medical “professionals” have been very elusive with information to help me understand. Truthfully, I’m still very confused by that. It seems that because insurance and workers comp is involved in my situation, someone is always working to make me appear better than I am or interrupt services.

I don’t understand why that is. I’ve worked hard my entire life. I worked in law enforcement and corporate America prior to teaching school. Anyone that knows me, knows my reputation as a solid worker and dependable and honest person. I’ve always taken so much pride in my work and loved being a teacher.

People with brain injury desperately need understanding from those who have not been here. It has become obvious to me that almost everyone who has never experienced a brain injury fails to understand what living with one is like. I can tell by the things people say that they expect someone who would be struggling with a brain injury to be pretty much brain dead or severely mentally disabled. However, if they would just take the time to educate themselves, they would start to understand that’s not often the case.

We’re not completely helpless. We still read, write, figure out math, feed and clothe ourselves, carry on conversations, drive occasionally. You get the point. Now, think about trying to do those things a month after the beating I described, and you’ll probably better get the point of what life can feel like. And that is my point. We need people who will try to understand what this is like for more than a few fleeting seconds, because this doesn’t go away. We are often good for a moment in the moment, followed by periods of a devastating crash back to our new reality. We try to handle those crashes with as much dignity as possible in an often uncaring or misunderstanding world.

I’ve met great people since my TBI who’ve been where I am. I don’t know where I would be without them. They were strangers to me and I’m blown away that I’ve experienced this level of decency from strangers in today’s world. They help me find my way forward and remind me where I don’t want to return in my lowest moments.

I’m grateful that my brain injury happened at a point in my life when I was humble enough to recognize the need for their help and gracious enough to accept it. I hope I can help others who wake to find themselves in this hopeless situation. I’ll never forget what this experience has been like for me and will be like for others.