October 2023 Mindy Forino

Sunday, September 12, 2010, started out no different than so many other days for me. Wake up at the hotel, meet for breakfast with the team and get ready to board the bus. We were coming off a pretty busy two-week stretch for soccer, and we were scheduled to play Maine Maritime Academy (MMA).

Soccer was a pretty important part of my life, and I spent most of my childhood and teenage years dedicated to this sport. Soccer practices, games, tournaments, and camps filled much of my spare time. So, when I transferred home from the University of Southern Maine my junior year, I didn’t hesitate at all when the coach at University of Maine at Fort Kent asked me to come and be his goalie. In fact, I was thrilled at the thought that I would be able to play soccer in the community that grew up supporting me.

There was nothing else in my life that made me as happy as I was when I was playing goalie. The feeling I would experience after making a save that most thought was impossible is almost indescribable and kept me hooked. So, I decided I would finish out my collegiate career playing for UMFK. Being located in a small rural town at the tip top of the State of Maine meant for a lot of on the road games, one of which took us to Castine, Maine.

What I did not know when I woke up that Sunday morning and prepared for our match against MMA, is that my life was going to be forever changed because of one girl, one through ball, one collision. About 20 minutes into our game, an opponent and myself were both going for the same ball, each one of us thinking we were going to win that ball. The two of us were on a dead sprint from opposite directions and when we got to the ball, the girls shoulder collided with the side of my temple. This collision knocked me out, causing me to fall to the ground unable to move or speak. After some time of attempting to make sure I was ok, they decided it was best to life flight me off the field to Eastern Maine Medical Center. The hospital kept me for three days until I was able to get up and move around, then they discharged me and told me I had a mild TBI and to go home and rest up, that the brain would heal on its own.

Getting back to what I would call a normal life after coming home from the hospital was extremely difficult. Lights, sounds and busy environments were all triggers for headaches, angry outbursts and confusion. I spent most of those first few months in my room with the shades drawn and the lights off. I did not have the energy to be around people. Sitting in my classes for school was a task I was incapable of doing for the longest time. Thankfully my professors were understanding, and I was able to drop some of my classes to lessen my workload. Life just seemed physically, mentally and emotionally overwhelming.

My mom knew that we couldn’t just sit around at home and do nothing, so she went online and found any resources available to help. This eventually led us all the way to Portland, Maine, where I started a very intensive outpatient therapy program. My days that were once filled with soccer were now filled with therapy and doctor appointments. You name it, I did it. Speech, occupational therapy, recreational therapy, physical therapy, mindfulness training, counseling, etc. At first mom stayed with me and drove me to the hospital because driving was too much for my brain to process. Then as months passed and I spent countless hours retraining my brain, I was able to get myself to and from where I was staying to the hospital. When I wasn’t at the hospital, I spent most of my time sleeping in attempt to refuel my body and brain for the next day.

So many of these days during my recovery I spent depressed and angry, not wanting to continue on with life. A life that once used to come so easily to me. Things really started to get complicated when I developed a seizure disorder from an autonomic dysfunction. We did not know it at the time, in fact it had taken years of seizures and being in/out of emergency rooms throughout the state to find the right doctor for the diagnosis. I spent days, weeks even, having non-epileptic seizures, not being able to even care for myself in the simplest of ways.

A lot of time has passed since then, and this September was my 13th year anniversary of my injury. Although I look back and think of all the dark times, there has been so much good that has come out of this. We started a nonprofit called All Things Become New. We come alongside survivors and caregivers for people with TBI to support them. The people who I have met along the way have changed my life and allowed it to blossom in ways I never thought imaginable. I am now married, with 2 step children and a beautiful set of 4-year-old identical twins. These are all things that I would have told you at one point after my accident would never happen.

Life most definitely is still challenging. I still have days where my brain doesn’t work, or my energy levels aren’t where I want them, but I can honestly say I wouldn’t change what happened to me that day. Healing takes time and it is an ongoing process, a process I continue to work on daily. All I can hope is that my experience will help me be a better human being, and maybe bright light to people who may need it the most.