Lately I've been doing phenomenal, a minor setback at few weeks ago, but because of that, I learned why I was (and have been for years) feeling so sick randomly. -- First, my lip goes extremely pale, and a few years ago I realized this happens when my top most vertebrae is off. This time though, I noticed my brain function went down, and started having thoughts that I would not consider my own. I never had noticed that all these things were linked together, since for years so many other .. problems were going on at the same time.
Now I'm going through new treatment to get my muscles to do what they are suppose to. Wake up some that haven't been doing their work, and turn off other that have been doing all the work for over 7 years. It is one of the most painful processes I've been through, though, I know it will be worth it.
Did you know you are suppose to actually be able to get your ear relatively close to your shoulder when you bend it? Mine is about 5 inches away.. I had realized that my muscles seem to feel like they are going to snap, but hadn't realized it doesn't have to be that way.
For the first few times, my chiropractor just tried to waken up the muscles, on the inside, behind the vertebrae to wake up... meaning, he had to move my trachea slightly and rub against the inside of my neck. Such a weird feeling. -- And I thought that was uncomfortable..
Yesterday he really worked on loosening up my shoulder/neck muscles, to give me more movement. -- I have a high tolerance for pain, and my god OW! My muscles have been that way for over 7 years, and trying to get them to calm down is extremely painful... But man, could I move my neck more afterwards!
I expected to be sore, uncomfortable, and maybe in a little pain.... I did not expect to have hot and cold flashes, panic attacks, headaches, exhaustion, lack of motivation... But now that I think of it, all these chemicals that have been in my muscles for so long are now released, no wonder I feel so off!
Its hard because I'm in school and had to do a 3 hour class in Biology, trying to pay attention and keep a smiling face on.. it did not work. My study group started to look worried, kept asking if I was sure I was feeling okay... I'm not use to people noticing. I'm so good at acting "normal" that it really freaks me out when people start getting worried...because it means that I must really look bad.
One of the girls asked me what I do when this happens, pain meds? I mean, yeah I took advil, but that more just takes the uncomfortable portion away.. it doesn't take away the weird chemicals going on in my body.. All I can do is take a nap and hope I feel better when I wake up.
The worst part is that I feel fine -- sort of! I was understanding what was happening in Bio, where the girl next to me is floundering! I feel like I could study more, do more..... but the moment I walk out of bio I start hyperventilating, and crying. My body feels weird, I keep feeling like ice is running through my veins, then hot water the next moment. My brain hurts... but I am functioning well.
I DON'T GET IT! Its so frustrating. All my caretakers/doctors see that I'm doing so much better, so its hard for them to understand that yes, I feel good, but I also feel so incredibly wrong. They are just so happy that I'm leaps and bounds better than I was even a year ago. I'm just so confused, my body is confused, and I hate it. I hate it so much.
But can I really complain? I'm almost a full time student for the first time since my TBI, I've got straight A's, I have great friends, I have great stamina. I'm learning about why I get start feeling sick, and now have the chance to really fix it. -- So why so I feel so miserable? Why do I keep crying?
I want to just put on my happy face and go to study group later today. -- And I probably will because I love study group, and to pretend its not all that bad, which may be ruined now because my study group have now seen me when I'm not doing well.. I just didn't have the energy this morning to pretend.. GAH!!!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
The Summary
There are a few things that I will mention time and time again in stories, but can't fit in the explanations in the stories without going on forever.
The first is that my "first" freshman year, I hardly could go to school. The only class I took was drama, because it was the only one I could take. I also volunteered in a kindergarten class, which was great therapy. At that point, I couldn't read, even the children books.. I would find myself making up the story if I didn't know the book.
Just before my my "second" freshman year a lot happened. I was rapped, my family went bankrupt, and we had to move. So I switched schools, to a school that my class was the size of the entire school before. I also, at that point, had to realize I really did have a disability, and enrolled into Special Ed. So demeaning to the old "genius". -- I still couldn't read consistently.
During my junior year I was re-injured. I went to a specialist that was suppose to be amazing and that fixed necks..... WRONG. Instead of pushing my top most vertebrae into the right spot, she pushed it all the way to the other side. My poor brain stem. For months after I was constantly having such bad stomach pains that they sent me to the hospital thinking it was the appendix, and could not control my thoughts. I at that point, had to drop all my classes. So, in my head, I was a failure because I had dropped out of high school. Something I never thought in a million years would happen to me.
I of course, went back to school, but I had to switch schools to be able to have the chance (online classes) to graduate on time. And, I DID! -- Most difficult thing I have ever had to go through.
That's about the gist of all the main things I will mention. I'll go in more detail of the side effects I had in my re-injury. I'll explain my high school hell many times.
The first is that my "first" freshman year, I hardly could go to school. The only class I took was drama, because it was the only one I could take. I also volunteered in a kindergarten class, which was great therapy. At that point, I couldn't read, even the children books.. I would find myself making up the story if I didn't know the book.
Just before my my "second" freshman year a lot happened. I was rapped, my family went bankrupt, and we had to move. So I switched schools, to a school that my class was the size of the entire school before. I also, at that point, had to realize I really did have a disability, and enrolled into Special Ed. So demeaning to the old "genius". -- I still couldn't read consistently.
During my junior year I was re-injured. I went to a specialist that was suppose to be amazing and that fixed necks..... WRONG. Instead of pushing my top most vertebrae into the right spot, she pushed it all the way to the other side. My poor brain stem. For months after I was constantly having such bad stomach pains that they sent me to the hospital thinking it was the appendix, and could not control my thoughts. I at that point, had to drop all my classes. So, in my head, I was a failure because I had dropped out of high school. Something I never thought in a million years would happen to me.
That's about the gist of all the main things I will mention. I'll go in more detail of the side effects I had in my re-injury. I'll explain my high school hell many times.
My Second Birthday
In the beginning, the anniversary of my assault was a day to mourn.. especially since the doctors said that if I wasn't back to normal by the first anniversary, I would never recover. It stayed a day to mourn for a few years, a day to sit in the dark and hate that this happened to me. Hate that I lost my life, everything I dreamed of.
Eventually, maybe around the 4th year anniversary, I decided to not mourn this day anymore, but to celebrate the new life I have. If it wasn't for the brain injury, we wouldn't have moved to the town we did, and I wouldn't have ended up with the friends I had, and I realized this. I, for the first time, didn't wish it never happened.
My second birthday is three days after my brothers birthday. I guess I haven't mentioned that yet.. It made the TBI that much harder in the beginning.
The assault (I don't like to say accident for two reasons; people associate it with car accident, and the boy who hit me meant to be assaulting someone else.. that's no accident) -- Once my friends finally brought me to my parents, and the nurse saw that my pupils were different sizes, she made my mom take me to the hospital. I don't really remember the story too well, but I do know that when they tried to lay me down on the gurney, I started to scream, cry, and try to get away; not normal behavior for me. They decided I had a concussion, and that they should take me to a bigger hospital to get a Cat Scan. We lived in the mountains, so the closest hospital was an hour away.. What a terrible hour that was.
The trip was excruciating for my mom. I asked the same four questions the entire way to the hospital; Where are we going? What happened to me? Did I miss Taury's Birthday?? Did I get him a present? -- And my mom would answer my questions calmly every time, and I would respond the exact same way every time; then start over, and over, and over. I can't imagine how my mom was feeling. Her baby was obviously hurt; very hurt.
The Cat Scan came out normal. I was fine. All I had was a fat lip, I was free to go. No warnings that I could have more side-effects later. Nothing. --This is where I 'wake up', laying in the really uncomfortable chairs at the hospital, my mom standing above me asking "Recess or Kit-Kat?" -- I said both.
So this is where it gets unreal, if it was even real before. We get home, my brother comes home for the first time in a week... and he isn't my brother anymore. It is someone he hired to take care of his body while he went to battle with the evil man in his head. -- He had schizo-affective disorder; and was using meth. When I got home, not knowing anything that had happened that day, my brother wasn't even my brother. He held himself differently, talked differently... I was in a huge black hole where nothing made sense.
Everyone who was present at my assault lied about what happened to the police, and my mom. The reason I know that I was acting in way that was *not* me, was a friend who worked across the street from McDonalds called me up that night and pretty much said "What the fuck was wrong with you today?" -- I don't know, was all I could say. He explained how I had been running around screaming at people, who were riding bikes, through the McDonalds drive through.
Eventually I called up the boy who was the one that was inteneded to be hit and said, "please, be straight up with me, I have no idea what happened and I just need to know." -- He sighed, and told me; I'm sure he broke the "pact" they made that day. I still to this day, am just so thankful to have a straight up answer. He told me about being hit (not about hitting my friends face, I put that one together when I found out she had a massive bruise on her face) and how when they were walking me to my parent's store (two blocks away) I kept trying to sit down, and throw my coat in the street.
The one thing I know I remember is seeing the boys, outside our store, with their bikes lined up on the wall. This is a relatively new memory, I had it on the 5th anniversary. I "remember" other moments, but I'm still partially convinced that they are just memories of other times placed there to make myself feel like I don't have a giant black space in my memory.
So, now my second birthday is three days after my brother's birthday. I no longer wish this never happened to me. I am going to do great things with my life, and with this experience. I'm going to be an advocate for fellow brain injury survivors. I hope to make schools in Colorado more aware, and able to accommodate kids with TBI's.
It was a start to a new life, a life where I can really make a difference.
***My brother's second birthday, the last day he used meth, just happens to be three days after my brithday, like mine is three after his. He is now 6 years clean, and no longer "crazy" and having a fulfilled life. He is now a professional glass blower. I am damn proud of him, and proud to be his sister.
Eventually, maybe around the 4th year anniversary, I decided to not mourn this day anymore, but to celebrate the new life I have. If it wasn't for the brain injury, we wouldn't have moved to the town we did, and I wouldn't have ended up with the friends I had, and I realized this. I, for the first time, didn't wish it never happened.
My second birthday is three days after my brothers birthday. I guess I haven't mentioned that yet.. It made the TBI that much harder in the beginning.The assault (I don't like to say accident for two reasons; people associate it with car accident, and the boy who hit me meant to be assaulting someone else.. that's no accident) -- Once my friends finally brought me to my parents, and the nurse saw that my pupils were different sizes, she made my mom take me to the hospital. I don't really remember the story too well, but I do know that when they tried to lay me down on the gurney, I started to scream, cry, and try to get away; not normal behavior for me. They decided I had a concussion, and that they should take me to a bigger hospital to get a Cat Scan. We lived in the mountains, so the closest hospital was an hour away.. What a terrible hour that was.
The trip was excruciating for my mom. I asked the same four questions the entire way to the hospital; Where are we going? What happened to me? Did I miss Taury's Birthday?? Did I get him a present? -- And my mom would answer my questions calmly every time, and I would respond the exact same way every time; then start over, and over, and over. I can't imagine how my mom was feeling. Her baby was obviously hurt; very hurt.
The Cat Scan came out normal. I was fine. All I had was a fat lip, I was free to go. No warnings that I could have more side-effects later. Nothing. --This is where I 'wake up', laying in the really uncomfortable chairs at the hospital, my mom standing above me asking "Recess or Kit-Kat?" -- I said both.
So this is where it gets unreal, if it was even real before. We get home, my brother comes home for the first time in a week... and he isn't my brother anymore. It is someone he hired to take care of his body while he went to battle with the evil man in his head. -- He had schizo-affective disorder; and was using meth. When I got home, not knowing anything that had happened that day, my brother wasn't even my brother. He held himself differently, talked differently... I was in a huge black hole where nothing made sense.
Everyone who was present at my assault lied about what happened to the police, and my mom. The reason I know that I was acting in way that was *not* me, was a friend who worked across the street from McDonalds called me up that night and pretty much said "What the fuck was wrong with you today?" -- I don't know, was all I could say. He explained how I had been running around screaming at people, who were riding bikes, through the McDonalds drive through.
Eventually I called up the boy who was the one that was inteneded to be hit and said, "please, be straight up with me, I have no idea what happened and I just need to know." -- He sighed, and told me; I'm sure he broke the "pact" they made that day. I still to this day, am just so thankful to have a straight up answer. He told me about being hit (not about hitting my friends face, I put that one together when I found out she had a massive bruise on her face) and how when they were walking me to my parent's store (two blocks away) I kept trying to sit down, and throw my coat in the street.
The one thing I know I remember is seeing the boys, outside our store, with their bikes lined up on the wall. This is a relatively new memory, I had it on the 5th anniversary. I "remember" other moments, but I'm still partially convinced that they are just memories of other times placed there to make myself feel like I don't have a giant black space in my memory.
So, now my second birthday is three days after my brother's birthday. I no longer wish this never happened to me. I am going to do great things with my life, and with this experience. I'm going to be an advocate for fellow brain injury survivors. I hope to make schools in Colorado more aware, and able to accommodate kids with TBI's.
It was a start to a new life, a life where I can really make a difference.
***My brother's second birthday, the last day he used meth, just happens to be three days after my brithday, like mine is three after his. He is now 6 years clean, and no longer "crazy" and having a fulfilled life. He is now a professional glass blower. I am damn proud of him, and proud to be his sister.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Questions
Sometimes I wonder if I'll always consider myself brain injured. Is it always something I'm going to add to the definition of who I am, or will there someday be a point where the brain injury is no longer who I am, rather something that happened to me.
I wonder if someday I won't have to explain that I am brain injured.. but at this point, it is part of who I am. My struggle with the brain injury is why I am the way I am, and doing what I'm doing. I feel like holding it back, not telling people, would be hiding part of myself.. Not taking pride in what I've overcome..
Its like when I start a class (I am in college, which is a miracle since I almost wasn't able to graduate high school) my teachers get notice that I have a disability, but it is my choice to tell them what it is. I do, and if they are willing to listen, I try to explain as much as I can. And I try to tell the entire class because I feel like they should at the least be aware about brain injuries. Some people have never heard of TBI's, or has never met anyone with one... I rarely get a good response, mostly just awkward glances and silence, but I keep trying.
You know, if I'm going to be brain injured, I want to do something with it, and since high school was such a pain, in the way of teachers being understanding, I want to spread the word.. get everyone to get use to hearing about brain injuries, teach people, explain how I look normal, but my brain does not work like it is suppose to. You can't see my brain, and even the Cat Scans didn't show anything...if only the technology today was there when I was 13... maybe then there would have been "proof" that something happened, and I would have won my lawsuit against the guy who threw the trays at my face..
I am so young, and I feel like I'm always wondering what my future looks like.. not in what I'll be doing, because I know that.. I'm going to have an amazing life, a career, hopefully a family... but will my brain injury come to haunt me? Will I be able to sustain a full time job? Will being pregnant make my brain injury reappear? Will I be able to handle taking care of kids? Will someone be able to love me, even when I'm stuck on the couch, crying hysterically because I just got home from a test and I don't know how I did (and when I get it back, it be a 98%)?
I know I have a bright future, brain injury or not, but it scares me. What if I get better, but fall and re-injure myself? That is my biggest fear.. being re-injured.. again.
I wonder if someday I won't have to explain that I am brain injured.. but at this point, it is part of who I am. My struggle with the brain injury is why I am the way I am, and doing what I'm doing. I feel like holding it back, not telling people, would be hiding part of myself.. Not taking pride in what I've overcome..
Its like when I start a class (I am in college, which is a miracle since I almost wasn't able to graduate high school) my teachers get notice that I have a disability, but it is my choice to tell them what it is. I do, and if they are willing to listen, I try to explain as much as I can. And I try to tell the entire class because I feel like they should at the least be aware about brain injuries. Some people have never heard of TBI's, or has never met anyone with one... I rarely get a good response, mostly just awkward glances and silence, but I keep trying.
You know, if I'm going to be brain injured, I want to do something with it, and since high school was such a pain, in the way of teachers being understanding, I want to spread the word.. get everyone to get use to hearing about brain injuries, teach people, explain how I look normal, but my brain does not work like it is suppose to. You can't see my brain, and even the Cat Scans didn't show anything...if only the technology today was there when I was 13... maybe then there would have been "proof" that something happened, and I would have won my lawsuit against the guy who threw the trays at my face..
I am so young, and I feel like I'm always wondering what my future looks like.. not in what I'll be doing, because I know that.. I'm going to have an amazing life, a career, hopefully a family... but will my brain injury come to haunt me? Will I be able to sustain a full time job? Will being pregnant make my brain injury reappear? Will I be able to handle taking care of kids? Will someone be able to love me, even when I'm stuck on the couch, crying hysterically because I just got home from a test and I don't know how I did (and when I get it back, it be a 98%)?
I know I have a bright future, brain injury or not, but it scares me. What if I get better, but fall and re-injure myself? That is my biggest fear.. being re-injured.. again.
7 years, 4 months, 22 days
I wish I had started writing earlier, but I didn't have the motivation to spend what little energy I had on writing about the hell I was going through.. I'm going to start now, 7 years, 4 months, and 22 days later.
I am Lea, 21 years old and I was injured May 15, 2004. I was 13 years old when my life was altered. My life is separated into three parts, who I was before, who I would have been, and who I am. I'll start with who I was before.
Before: I was born in a little blue house in Nederland, Colorado. I ran before I walked, I hated ice cream, and growled when I ate. I started gymnastics when I was 3 years old and could do a left hand, one handed, cartwheel before I could do a somersault. I started competing when I was 4, the youngest at my gym. The day in 1st grade when we first learned how to add, when I got home I went up to my parents and asked "what if you take away?" and within 30 minutes I was multiplying double digits. -- In other words, I was gifted.
I was invited to be part of a private school for the "Gifted and Talented" not because I had the highest IQ, but because I was a jock who was intelligent.. I was the only jock in the school. I was taught next to the little geniuses of Boulder, Colorado.. So when I went back to public school when I was 10, and I got the name of Genius, I was insulted.. I knew what a genius was, and I wasn't it. Yes, I was smart, and accelerated for my age group (skipped a grade, and two grades higher math on top of it), but I was no genius.
The school in a whole was not very supportive; teachers telling me I shouldn't be where I was, kids ridiculing me because they thought I thought I was better than them.. It made me hate my smarts, want to be normal... like them. I remember the first time I truly wished for my smarts to go away, it was in 8th grade. -- Seriously people, be careful what you wish for.
A month before the end of 8th grade was when I was assaulted, and my life changed.
The "Accident": May 15th, 2004 was just a normal day, my friend and I went down town to hang out, nothing special. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I remember it, or if this is just the images I put to the stories I heard. So, we go to McDonalds (my dad always told me not to eat fast food.. man was he right!) and were with a group of guys.. the delinquents, of course. One of them gathered all the trays, decided it would be funny to pretend to hit his friend in the back of the head, and by some sort of fate, I happened to be the one right across from the kid. The trays never hit him in the back of the head, but rather my face.
The tray, hit me right under the nose, and my head then ricocheted into my friends head; instant whiplash. They all say I never blacked out, but who knows, they lied a lot about the events of the day. My friend cleaned me up, since my lip was bleeding, and after who knows how long, after I chased people through the drive through, (a by standard who knew me told me that part) they finally decided to tell someone. They took me to my parents store, when I got there I was dizzy, and a nurse who just happened to be there checked me out. -- My pupils were different sizes, apparently that's bad or something..
I was awake the entire time, yet I couldn't remember from 10-am until 7-pm. I "woke" up in the hospital, I had no idea what had happened. It was terrifying.
For now, that's where I'm going to stop. Next time I'll explain the process of finding out what was wrong with me, and where I had planned to be by this time, before the TBI.
I am Lea, 21 years old and I was injured May 15, 2004. I was 13 years old when my life was altered. My life is separated into three parts, who I was before, who I would have been, and who I am. I'll start with who I was before.
Before: I was born in a little blue house in Nederland, Colorado. I ran before I walked, I hated ice cream, and growled when I ate. I started gymnastics when I was 3 years old and could do a left hand, one handed, cartwheel before I could do a somersault. I started competing when I was 4, the youngest at my gym. The day in 1st grade when we first learned how to add, when I got home I went up to my parents and asked "what if you take away?" and within 30 minutes I was multiplying double digits. -- In other words, I was gifted.
I was invited to be part of a private school for the "Gifted and Talented" not because I had the highest IQ, but because I was a jock who was intelligent.. I was the only jock in the school. I was taught next to the little geniuses of Boulder, Colorado.. So when I went back to public school when I was 10, and I got the name of Genius, I was insulted.. I knew what a genius was, and I wasn't it. Yes, I was smart, and accelerated for my age group (skipped a grade, and two grades higher math on top of it), but I was no genius.
The school in a whole was not very supportive; teachers telling me I shouldn't be where I was, kids ridiculing me because they thought I thought I was better than them.. It made me hate my smarts, want to be normal... like them. I remember the first time I truly wished for my smarts to go away, it was in 8th grade. -- Seriously people, be careful what you wish for.
A month before the end of 8th grade was when I was assaulted, and my life changed.
The "Accident": May 15th, 2004 was just a normal day, my friend and I went down town to hang out, nothing special. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I remember it, or if this is just the images I put to the stories I heard. So, we go to McDonalds (my dad always told me not to eat fast food.. man was he right!) and were with a group of guys.. the delinquents, of course. One of them gathered all the trays, decided it would be funny to pretend to hit his friend in the back of the head, and by some sort of fate, I happened to be the one right across from the kid. The trays never hit him in the back of the head, but rather my face.
The tray, hit me right under the nose, and my head then ricocheted into my friends head; instant whiplash. They all say I never blacked out, but who knows, they lied a lot about the events of the day. My friend cleaned me up, since my lip was bleeding, and after who knows how long, after I chased people through the drive through, (a by standard who knew me told me that part) they finally decided to tell someone. They took me to my parents store, when I got there I was dizzy, and a nurse who just happened to be there checked me out. -- My pupils were different sizes, apparently that's bad or something..
I was awake the entire time, yet I couldn't remember from 10-am until 7-pm. I "woke" up in the hospital, I had no idea what had happened. It was terrifying.
For now, that's where I'm going to stop. Next time I'll explain the process of finding out what was wrong with me, and where I had planned to be by this time, before the TBI.
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