Stephanie Miller
Five years ago, my life changed in an instant.
In March 2021, I was shot through the windshield of my vehicle while attempting to report suspicious activity in my neighborhood. I survived, but the traumatic brain injury I suffered that night changed nearly every aspect of my life.
Before my injury, I spent over twenty-five years working in healthcare, including EMS and emergency medicine. Helping people was part of who I was. After health issues forced me to leave that field, I returned to school and was only two months away from graduating with honors in Medical Coding and Hospital Management.
I was homeschooling my children, managing our household, caring for animals, maintaining a garden, and building a new future. I had plans, goals, and a clear vision for where my life was headed, but today life looks very different.
My brain injury left me with seizures, memory problems, cognitive difficulties, chronic vertigo, complex PTSD, fatigue, challenges with executive functioning, and a constant state of hypervigilance that leaves me stuck in fight-or-flight mode.
I am legally blind because of the injuries I suffered. In my right eye, I can only perceive small amounts of light in my peripheral vision, and when light enters that eye, the pain can be excruciating. Because of this, I wear an eye patch every day. My left eye has become my primary source of vision, but its vision continues to deteriorate, and I have no peripheral vision remaining.
Things that once seemed simple now require tremendous effort.
I sometimes forget conversations I had only hours earlier. I repeat stories because I can’t remember who I have already told them to. There are moments when I don’t recognize where I am or feel as though I am watching my life instead of living it. I rely heavily on notes, reminders, routines, and the support of my family to help me navigate each day.
One of the hardest parts has been losing pieces of the person I used to be. I can no longer garden the way I once did. I can’t safely cook alone because memory and concentration issues make it difficult to remember whether appliances have been turned off. Activities I once enjoyed and responsibilities I managed without thinking now require planning, assistance, and energy that is not always available.
The biggest misconception I see people having is that if you look normal, you must be fine.
Because my disabilities are largely invisible, many people assume I am functioning normally. They see me smile, carry on a conversation, or walk into a room and assume everything is okay. They don’t see the memory struggles, the confusion, the exhaustion, the dizziness, the cognitive challenges, or the effort it takes to complete tasks that once came naturally.
They don’t see how hard I work just to appear okay.
Recently, I was diagnosed with Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), providing another piece of the puzzle and helping explain many of the neurological challenges I continue to face every day.
Living with brain injury and FND has shown me how easy it is for invisible disabilities to be misunderstood. Many survivors spend tremendous amounts of energy compensating for challenges that others cannot see. That invisibility can be one of the most isolating aspects of living with a brain injury.
Another difficult part of my journey has been navigating the healthcare system. For years, I struggled to find providers who understood the complexity of my symptoms and the lasting effects of traumatic brain injury. After 5 years we finally learned about a neurological rehab facility here in town from a counselor that had worked there in the past. Looking back, I often wonder how different my recovery might have been if I had received neurological rehab much earlier.
After hearing about this rehab place and dealing with insurance, a room opened up, and I was admitted into their program. My family and I were hopeful that it would finally provide the help I needed. Unfortunately, the intensity of the program proved to be more than my body could tolerate. Within the first two weeks, I became severely ill due to overexertion and ultimately required emergency medical care. I was forced to leave the program much earlier than planned.
While that experience was disappointing, it also reinforced something important: I still need specialized treatment, and I still deserve access to the right care. My family and I are now pursuing approval for outpatient and day-treatment therapy while continuing to search for providers who better understand my needs.
My journey has not been a straight line. It has included setbacks, frustrations, grief, and moments when I felt like giving up. But it has also revealed strengths I never knew I possessed.
I don’t know exactly what the future will look like. I may never be the same person I was before my injury. But I continue to fight for more independence, more healing, and a better quality of life.
If there is one thing I would want people to understand about brain injury, it is this:
Just because you cannot see a disability does not mean it isn’t real.
Many survivors are fighting battles every day that others will never see. A little patience, understanding, and compassion can make an enormous difference.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story.