Brain Matters

Four weeks since the accident, my symptoms were dawning on me as severe and somewhat frightening. There were some increasingly scary symptoms that were driving me crazy with frustration.

1. My eyes were frequently dilated. (This is actually still an issue three months later.)
2. I had vertigo, and I still get really dizzy if I stand up quickly.
3. Sometimes I slur words.
4. Sometimes I forget words.
5. Sometimes I would forget what I'd just said and repeat it.
6. I still forget what I'm saying in the middle of saying it and have to stop or change the subject.
7. Sometimes I'll switch a word for a word that rhymes with it, but doesn't mean the same thing, like "kite" for "fight."
8. I often had a kind of stutter when I used any kind of alliteration in a sentence, like "the b-big buh-all. Ball."
9. Headaches every day, but in different areas. Today felt like a drill in the back, while yesterday it was a dull ache up front, and the day before as if the drilling was going into my right eye socket.
10. An intermittent nauseous feeling 
11. I kept repeating  things people say to me, especially if they were plans or directions, explanations, as if I was confirming that I understood them correctly, even though I think I did. The Neurologist later said that my brain was overcompensating and trying to memorize those types of communication because it identifies them as a type of list and thinks that if it repeats and studies the words it will remember or re-learn them. It was involuntary, and once I started I felt bound to finish sounding the words or idea out.
I had to learn how to do less, trying to let my brain rest as the neurologist recommended. I prayed. I stayed in bed longer. I soaked in the tub for awhile. I resorted to meditation. I painted my nails.
One  afternoon I was so restless that my sister took me shopping with her. The whole experience turned out to be frustrating and gradually scary for me because I couldn't seem to convey my thoughts into speech as quickly or correctly as I'm used to. At one point I was trying to tell  my sister something about my teeth, but after three tries all I could do instead was repeat the word "feet."
In another instance, she asked me to get a sales associate to help her ring up purple carrots (first I'd ever heard of them). I meant to go to this woman and say "My sister needs help ringing something up in (whatever lane it was)," but instead I said "Hey! This lady over here? The one with the red hair? She needs help. I don't know why --I can't remember her name." 
And then I felt my face get hot because I was embarrassed to have said that when of course I know my own sister's name, but it just popped out all wrong like that.
Part of my problems were caused by trying to do too much, but it was so wonderful  to see my kids again over their spring break, and physically I felt good other than tiring easily. It made me forget. 
And If the kids and I miss a weekend, that eats up two whole weeks. I hate that.
The other problem, of course, is that I need to get so much more done than what I've been able to do. I have to put my Master's Degree on hold, but there's lots of simple things that feel harder now. As people say, the love and support of my family is helping me get through this strange experience. Certainly wouldn't be the only strange experience I've ever had.
Conveying ideas is such a critical element of my personal and professional life that I keep telling everyone and myself that I'm doing better, while my sister says I'm "still junk" at ordinary conversation and haven't really improved at all... 

Three months ago I was just getting worse from simply doing things that I always do, but my perception of my progress was, and is still, distorted.
Forced rest and relaxation. Limited reading, Internet or TV (screen time in general).
 I did all those things a lot because I felt fine.Then I would feel foggy and like I had motion-sickness. I got a prescription for that, but it makes me very sleepy.
At this point I still will get dizzy and nauseous if I'm out and about too much.
My primary care physician referred me to a neurologist and scheduled an MRI, but closed-injury traumatic brain injury doesn't necessarily show up on an MRI, and mine didn't.
But my brain was addled, all right. 
Both Jane Austin and Cervantes wrote in jest that too much reading of books causes severe mental strain. In all seriousness, my condition frightened me because of my love of communication. Writing, reading, teaching, painting and public speaking have always been my passions.
I'm now officially off work for a minimum of three months.
I'm not supposed to go to a big grocery store like I did with my sister that day because my brain is unable to filter out all the noise, light and activity. 
Although I had a recent crisis of faith, I can't help but note that God is known for taking things that seem ugly and broken and makes them beautiful all the time.

The Neurologist prefers I stay in my own home with a set routine. I have to stop and sleep frequently throughout the day. I'm seldom up more than eight hours, and seldom all in one stretch, which the Neurologist says is good. All that I'm permitted to do during my waking hours would be

1. Chores, unless I become tired.
2. Walks, until I become tired.
3. Painting, drawing, or crafts, until I become tired.
4. Audio books, until...

And that is it.

Getting work compensation through the insurance company is naturally taking a great deal of time to arrange.
Now that I'm sleeping so much, my symptoms are much less pronounced. At one point I couldn't even carry on a conversation. And the Neurologist says that, based on my IQ, I have a higher than average chance of recovery. Ha! My family has teased me for years for being an airhead, but now I' ve got validation from a guy with three doctorate degrees related to brain research that I'm a pretty smart cookie!

You know, one of the things that frustrates me is that the accident was like a Pause Button on my life, and it didn't stop the movie in a good spot. I was right in the middle of trying to circle my wagons until I had enough energy and resources to get out of the wilderness. The plan was to work at the Cancer Society to pay the bills while I was looking for better work. Now I'm stuck in some kind of ravine when really all I wanted was to climb out and try to spot a safe place to settle.
I was willing to put in the necessary work. I've never been ashamed of honest work, but I was trying to switch up my game plan so I could find some way to work smarter instead of harder. Because clearly what I've been doing up until now hasn't been working for me.
But it almost did. I was substituting in every school and earning long-term sub jobs that were likely to develop into permanent positions. Just a couple years ago I was at the top of my game, subbing full-time at a teacher's salary, getting my kids every weekend and all the holidays,eating healthy, running and working out regularly, making great progress in counseling, in a play, and making headway painting and working on my novels. I've been trying to get back to that place, but I'm wondering if that's even a realistic goal right now. I heard they laid off 18 teachers in St Johns recently.

Here I am, tending the fire and looking up at the stars, wondering how to make my life work out. All I know is that quitters never prosper, so I plan and I wait and I try one day at a time, sometimes even just a moment at a time.
I was in the crisis unit because I was unhappy with my life. It was a terrible choice I was considering. It took me a couple of weeks to convince myself that I was capable of making a successful alternative choice. And the choice sounds easy enough: I'm taking on the responsibility for my own life. I'll change what I can and then learn to accept the rest. "My life didn't happen the way I wanted it to" is an incorrect past-tense on circumstances I still have power to alter. I've heard it phrased that we will continue to encounter the same messages over and over until we learn them.
Maybe the accident was a check-engine light instead, an opportunity to focus on things under the hood that need fixing. I can get my brain back in order in more ways than one, and I can paint like a fiend to express myself until I'm allowed more time on the computer. Painting is damn good therapy.

 Here are some positive things about my brain injury:

1. Time to process and sort out my priorities.
2. An opportunity to practice Mindfulness, to focus on one thing at a time.
3. Quality time with my kids.
4. Appreciation of simple pleasures
5. Time to practice meditation.
6. An opportunity to seek better employment.
7. The possibility of getting help with the PTSD.
8. Learning to love myself for who I am instead of how "productive" I am.
9. Practicing coping skills
10. Getting to focus on my painting
11. Realizing once again that If I can't control all the circumstances in my life, I can at least learn to take charge of how I choose to perceive those circumstances.

The brain is so beautifully complex that doctors and scientists have only a basic idea of how it

functions. As it turns out, this type of injury doesn't show up on ct scans or MRIs, and isn't repaired through any surgery. The brain repairs itself only as we Sleep. It's like God slips in as we sleep and tidies up, sweeping bits of images into our dreams and gently working all the wrinkles out of our jumbled everyday thoughts. How is it that I have such trouble saying "fork," or even remembering the word fork sometimes? Why do these problems come and go, and why are some days so much easier than others? How is it that I get confused trying to do or say simple things, but I still can communicate so well in writing? Only God knows, and He will heal me in His way and in His time, but meantime I have to admit it feels like an awfully long (and often frustrating) wait. I keep doing too much when I'm feeling good and then suffering the consequences later. For example, I've more than used up my limit for writing and "screen time" for the day, so I will stop now, but I will continue to pass along thoughts and inspiration as it comes to me.