Life Path Adjustment 4x4

Life Path Adjustment 4x4
AKA Dark Night of The Soul My ASS

October 28th 2007 after taking a classmate out to celebrate her 25th birthday I was on the loosing end of a head-on hit and run collision totaling my car.  Now nearly two years after the accident I still don’t remember details.  I lost over 3 hours of memories that night and the months that followed are still foggy. Each day gets clearer, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had no clue that I was injured after the accident.  I didn’t go to work the next day, but attempted to go to school.  We were only allowed 2 absences before being dropped from a class so it was imperative that I attend.  My daughter, Erin, drove me and took notes.  I didn’t stay long, or at least I don’t remember it if I did.  The next day Erin had a doctor appointment so I would talk to the doctor then.  No need to go to the hospital.  I was fine.  Yeah, right.

At the doctor’s office I told him what happened and he felt that at the time I appeared to be okay explaining signs I should watch out for.  I did feel “punch drunk” with a headache from hell, but otherwise I could deal with the pain.  The fuzzy brain seemed normal for a concussion and didn’t worry me.  Just something else to get through right?

Five days later Erin drove me to Hobby Lobby to get supplies for a class project.  I strolled through the isles looking for materials when my headache increased exponentially.  I needed to get home, but first I had to find Erin in the store.  Rounding an isle I spotted Erin and walked up to her.  My world started to spin into slow motion.  I leaned my right arm out to the display wall to steady myself as an overwhelming wave of nausea struck violently.  The next thing I knew I landed flat on my ass in the middle of the isle and my world turned black.  I was filled with an indescribable horror.  Erin was freaking out on me not understanding what was happening to me.  I didn’t understand what was happening to me!  The only thing I knew is I had to get home.

Erin tried to get me to my feet, but I was blind and unstable.  Heaven forbid I have her call 911.  Oh no.  I couldn’t think that clearly.  I just needed to get home.  As Erin walked me to the car my vision started to come back.  I’m not sure what I looked like from Erin’s perspective, but on the inside I was freaking out.  Erin asked me to explain what just happened yet nothing would come out of my mouth.  I knew what I wanted to say, but the words felt like they got stuck between thought and action.  What did come out sounded like it was filtered through, as Dad would put it, molasses running uphill in the middle of winter.  In other words everything that came out of my mouth was excruciatingly slow.

Finally at home I laid down.  At some point my mom appeared and wanted to take me to the hospital.  I know I refused, but I don’t remember much after getting into the car with Erin.  Monday morning I went to see the family practitioner, but my regular doctor wasn’t available so I saw someone new. We had never met prior to this appointment.

After telling her my story she ran lots of tests including x-rays of my skull.  At first sight she thought I might have a hairline fracture of the odontoid bone.  I knew what that bone was – it’s the tip of the 1st cervical vertebra that allows your head to swivel from side to side.  Not a good bone to fracture.  Upon further investigation by a radiologist it turned out to be fine.  My balance, speech, executive brain functions among other things were not fine.  I couldn’t walk a straight line without falling, speak with fluidity or process easy thought processes.  I felt like a stroke patient.  I honestly don’t remember what the doctor advised me to do that day.  She gave me strong pain medication for the headache from hell, something for the nausea and told me to rest.  If I wasn’t better in two weeks come back in to the office.

It turned out that I had to apply for short term and long term disability since I could no longer function at home let alone at work.  I also had to take a medical leave of absence at school.  I didn’t return for six months and I wasn’t ready to return at that time.  My school loans came due and if I didn’t return to school I’d have to start paying off the loans.  Fabulous!

I fell through the cracks of our medical system that is ruled by the insurance companies.  The long term disability insurance decided I wasn’t injured enough to be permanently injured or qualify for retraining for a new job.  I was in no shape to argue the point.  My official diagnosis was Mild Traumatic Brain Injury.  There was nothing “mild” about the affects of the injury or the toll it took on my life.  Sean and I had a disagreement about his lifestyle six months before the car accident.  He involuntarily moved out.  Days before the incident he asked to come back home to which I agreed with rules.  Both Sean and Erin faced an instant role reversal.

I couldn’t cook, clean, do laundry, read, or hold an intelligent conversation.  My life was falling apart.  I couldn’t even think well enough to know to fight.  Until this point I thought loosing my Dad was the worst experience of my life.  I was wrong.  This worst experience was the neurologist telling me not to compare myself now to the Kristy I was prior to the accident.  He advised me to think of her dying in that car accident.  What?  I was outraged.  White with fury and rage.  He was right.  The person I was prior to the accident died and here I am the new Kristy.  I have all of the memories of the old Kristy, minus 3 hours, yet have a re-wired brain.  A brain I wasn’t familiar with at all.  I didn’t know how this new brain worked.  Frustrating didn’t begin to describe how I felt about my “new brain”.

My fried Jennifer teased me about talking slow, but the reality I faced was frightening.  Would I ever be able to talk like an intelligent person again? Or walk without assistance?  Cook for my family?  Would I ever read again? I couldn’t even look at a magazine without getting ill.  What about caring for myself? I couldn’t follow the recipe on a box of brownies!  God, would I have to move in with my mom?  Not an appealing notion at 38 years old.  Why?  Why did this have to happen to me?  Note to self:  This is exactly what Dad went through.  I went through the 5 stages of grief that Dad did when he learned he had terminal cancer.  Although anger was gone from my life. I never felt angry, but resolved to fight.

In the end I didn’t have a choice but to accept what fate had doled out to me.  The other choice was to give up and that wasn’t an option.  My co-workers  and especially the ladies in human resources were amazing.  They donated leave time to me to get through the Christmas holiday.  In order to qualify for disability I had to be off work for something like 60 days.  Well, I still needed to feed my kids and pay bills.  I had no savings left.  It was all gone.  Through donations they accumulated over $2000 to get me and my kids through till the short term disability approved my benefits.

As a self-reliant person that doesn’t like to ask for help let alone accept it I was forced to ask and accept help.  I could not function without help.  My kids had to do the grocery shopping.  When I’d step foot under the lights and confronted with multiple choices my balance headed south and dizziness set in collapsing the world around me.  I no longer had the ability to filter out sounds.  At a restaurant celebrating family birthdays I could hear ever single noise from conversations at other tables to the knife and forks scraping on plates.  I could not distinguish what my family members were saying to one another.  I had to leave on Sean’s arm.  I became familiar with the term emotional lability.  Which meant when my senses were overwhelmed I would break out in an inappropriate emotional outburst or hysterical crying.  Great.  I was already an emotional person, but there was no control to these outbursts. No control over anything.  I had to relinquish control of my life to a higher power.  Again, just like my Dad.  Life truly sucked.

Attending the Boulder College of Massage Therapy was my saving grace.  There I had an extended family built from remarkable faculty, staff and extraordinary classmates.  Through bodywork my brain started to heal. No, I will never be the Kristy I was prior to the accident.  I like to think that I’m a new and  improved model.  One classmate told me I now have a very Zen like quality to my personality.  Learning became a challenge.  I had to figure out new ways to learn intricate material at school.  Any material I learned prior to the accident was still in my re-wired brain and easy to access.  New technical material was ten fold more difficult to process.  I failed a few tests and had to re-take them.  I forgot to attend weekend classes.  Life presented new challenges to overcome.

Each day becomes clearer and the fog is dissipating.  I can now speak with normal speed and walk under my own power.  My mom no longer worries about me holding an intelligent conversation. I can find words once again in my brain and read books.  There are still difficulties that I face.  My executive brain function is still not what it once was, but then I forget I’m not supposed to compare the me now to the me before the accident.  That reality is something I’m still trying to accept.  Organization and short term memory are a  thing of the past.

What have I learned?  Be careful what you ask for!  I am pretty darn good at manifesting things in my life, but without a plan it can be dangerous.  Before the car accident I asked to be provided my income without working so I could dedicate my time to finishing school then enter the world as a healer.  Well, that’s exactly what I got!  I just didn’t foresee a car accident as the catalyst to start the domino effect in my life.  The gifts in life are worth more than the losses.  Ask for help and receive it with grace and gratitude.  Friends, family and love make the world go around.  I found my life’s passion and through hard work I am now a Certified Massage Therapist embarking on the next chapter of my life with open arms.  When life hands you lemons make the best damned lemonade you can.  Or make the best of what you have and be thankful for every minute.  Listen to your inner voice and take a leap of faith, life is worth the risk.  When you think you know who you are, guess again.  Humor is invaluable.  Live life in the moment,  It’s all we have.  I have needs and it really is okay to have them met.