MY BRAIN INJURY

Following the program outlined in the book Alcoholics Anonymous has enabled me to experience a remarkable recovery, mentally and spiritually. This book will describe my progression from an almost hopeless condition to my current position as a business owner, pilot, and author. I offer my story as an example of what someone can accomplish through using the tools of a Twelve Step program, including practicing Step 11 consistently.

On July 5, 1984, my fiancé was driving us into town when we were in an automobile accident with a drunk driver in a pickup truck. The truck hit us head-on and then drove over the top of our car, compressing the roof. From measuring the distance between our wrecked car and where the truck came to rest, the police determined that the combined impact was approximately 110 mph.

I was taken to the nearest hospital and diagnosed with having sustained a severe concussion and a brain contusion (bruising of the brain), along with other physical damage. I was admitted with a 10 percent chance of living.

I was in a coma for several days. When the doctors could communicate with me, they told me my brain injury was so severe that I would never again be employable and that I would need social security disability payments to help support me for the remainder of my life.

They also told me that I had multiple breaks of my left arm, and my pelvis had separated in the accident. I had been unable to move my left hand or any part of my right leg or right foot since arriving at the hospital. After explaining to me how bad my condition was, the doctor ended by telling me, "Oh, and your fiancé died in the accident."

Because my brain had been so badly damaged, I had no memories of my life prior to the accident. (This is referred to as "long-term memory"). The people who visited me in the hospital included my employer and some of my dance students. I learned from them that I had worked as a custom jeweler in a jewelry store at a local mall. I had also taught weekly dance classes and performed frequently in local events with a troupe of my advanced students. It got very depressing to hear about the beautiful life I was no longer going to be able to live.

Weeks later, I was released from the hospital with home nursing service and only a 50 percent chance of living. They sent me home because the medical staff had done everything they could for me, there was no further treatment available for me, and they needed the bed space.

My parents were told that the staff had never, in the history of the hospital, seen anyone survive after being hurt as badly as I had been. They weren't sure why I didn't die or how long I would be able to stay alive, and they had no recovery program available to help me regain the mental abilities I would need to take care of myself.

I was told I would need nursing care at least for the foreseeable future and possibly for the rest of my life, but with time and recovery, it was possible that I might become "capable of self-care."

The doctors arranged for me to have physical therapy, in hopes that I could regain at least partial use of my disabled body parts. I complained that I would need both of my hands to make jewelry and both of my legs to dance, so I could start earning a living again. The doctors explained that they were quite certain I would never be able to remember how to make jewelry or dance again, so it didn't really matter if I could use my left hand or right leg. They encouraged me to think of sitting on the couch and watching TV while collecting social security disability payments as a "paid vacation."

For several weeks, my nurse chauffeured me to an average of seven doctor appointments a week. She helped me perform my physical therapy exercises and tried to teach me how to take care of myself and my apartment.

Unfortunately, my ability to retain memories (short-term memory) had also been severely damaged. I continually forgot what the nurse taught me. On a daily basis, my nurse had to teach me how to brush my teeth, etc., as if it was a brand-new lesson each time.

I experienced constant frustration with trying to do things for myself and wanting to return to my previous lifestyle. Because I kept insisting I could learn to live independently, I was sent to a psychiatrist. It states in my medical file, "The patient is deluding herself ... which is detrimental to her eventual, possible recovery."

My pain medications were not effectively blocking the pain I was experiencing as a result of my injuries. I was worn out from dealing with physical pain, the heartache of losing my fiancé, and trying to cope with the results of my brain injury. I began to have an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, and I found myself wanting to drink.

I had never been told that both of my parents were adult children of alcoholics who had decided that they did not want to become like their parents and never drank alcohol problematically. They were ashamed there was alcoholism in their families, so they had hidden that fact from me while I was growing up.

I realize now that I was craving alcohol after the accident, but at that time, I had no knowledge about the disease of alcoholism or its symptoms (and I had no memories regarding my own drinking pattern prior to the accident). I found ways to sneak away from my nurse and get alcohol from different neighbors in my apartment complex.

When someone's brain gets bruised from impacting the inside of the skull, it swells. The swollen brain pressing against the inside of the skull causes further mental problems, adding to the original damage. It takes between two and three years for the swelling to completely subside. Medical literature states that your brain is "incapable of tolerating alcohol" while you are recovering from a brain injury.

Things got very ugly very fast!

After a short time, the nursing service refused to continue caring for me. I was moved into my parents' home in Washington because I was incapable of living alone, and there wasn't any service or organization that was willing to assume responsibility for my care.

During the first few months after my accident, my parents took me to...