Happy Anniversary, Subdural Hematoma

PSA: your brain is your nerve center. In technical terms, that means it’s kind of a big deal. When your nerve center gets injured, your life will automatically become a lot harder. 100% guaranteed. Simple, ordinary tasks that used to be mindless will now become monumental conquests that you may - or may not - be able to achieve.

One year ago today, a teenage boy who was looking at his phone instead of the road completely changed my life, disrupting my career plans, impacting my ability to function, and rocking my self-worth to the core. His negligent driving left me with a broken brain and an uncertain future.

A year later, my brain is still broken and my future still very uncertain. 

Just a few weeks ago, my neurologist submitted some paperwork on my behalf. Under “prognosis,” he wrote in big bold letters: UNKNOWN, adding that my condition could be permanent. It was like a punch to the gut.

I’m still seeing a physical therapist and speech pathologist twice a week. I still need routine injections in my head. I continue to receive regular massage therapy, chiropractic services, and acupuncture. I am still wondering, wanting, hoping, praying, and pleading with God that my brain will one day heal. 

This is a picture of my brain one month after the accident. The big white line is a subdural hematoma, commonly known as a “brain bleed.” I am lucky that this injury didn’t kill me. The bleed has since reabsorbed, but the impact of the immense force caused by the accident structurally damaged my brain, affecting everything I do. For instance, I had to relearn how to stand in one place without falling over. I am still having to relearn how to visually track between two objects. It is exquisitely difficult. 

TBIs are invisible disabilities. I may look “normal” and “fine,” but simple, ordinary tasks are an immense struggle. Through the constant struggling and intense pain, I often feel discouraged, depressed, and more lonely than I can begin to describe.

But in those moments of darkness and excruciating pain, I have been gently reminded time and time again that I have the world’s greatest support system, a God who loves me and hears my prayers, and a Savior who atoned not only for my sins, but for my heartaches, my headaches, and all of my pain and suffering. With perfect empathy, He loves us all, whether we are at our best, our worst, or somewhere in between. 

I am grateful for an amazing support system. I am grateful for incredible work opportunities that I have been blessed to have during this difficult time in my life. I am grateful for a God who hears my prayers. And I am grateful for the many lessons I have learned through this unexpected curveball. 

Speaking of lessons, please don’t text and drive. And please be good to each other. Make kindness and empathy your default. You never know what someone is going through.