Survivor Stories

Arthur Moss III

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 20:42:12 GMT

On August 6, 2005, Arthur Moss III, left home to join a group of nine friends heading to Sturgis, South Dakota, to fulfill a lifelong dream. By the time he got to Utah, that dream had turned into a nightmare. Riding the 1999 Honda Shadow Aero he had customized himself, Moss and others were completing a pass, when suddenly, with no signal, a Chevy truck towing a horse trailer traveling in front of the group of motorcyclists, turned left in front of them, causing the drivers to scatter around to avoid collision. Moss was forced head-on into the horse trailer, at approximately 40MPH.

Luckily for Moss, two LA County EMT's were riding with the group, and their quick thinking and command presence saved his life. "They instinctively knew that Arthur's neck was broken and that he had sustained a severe brain injury," said Lisa (Eichenlaub) Moss, Arthur's wife of 18 years. At the EMT's insistence, Moss was flown immediately to the closest trauma center in Salt Lake City, UT. Moss lay in a deep coma; teetering between life and death as family members from the Victor Valley area in CA journeyed to Utah, fearing the worst.

Within days, a mass email posting was going to more than 300 people in the US and foreign countries concerned about Arthur and establishing prayer groups on behalf of Arthur.

After Arthur spent 28 days in the first stage of coma (GLASCOW Coma scale) at the hospital in Utah, doctors determined Moss was stable enough to airlift transport him to an acute care facility in CA to continue his recovery for the next three months. During this period of time, Arthur continued his recovery as he slowly progressed through coma stages 2, 3 & 4.

Next, he was transported to a sub-acute transitional facility where he continued rehabilitation and therapy for the next three months. During this period of time, Arthur transitioned between stages 4 & 5 of the coma stages.

Early March 2006, Arthur was discharged to his home to his family who immediately became his full time caregivers. Arthur was still working through stages 4 & 5 of the coma scale.

His first two weeks home, he lapsed into a continual sleep semi-coma like condition. Fear of dehydration, his family rushed him to an Emergency Hospital, CA where doctors confirmed he had been over medicated.

Since this, Arthur has been taken to dozens of specialists attempting to relieve many of the brain injury related problems: Neurologists, Internists, Psychiatrists, Urologists.....etc.

Arthur's wife, Lisa, is now performing the multiple roles of wife, caregiver, sole family financial support, mother, sister, doctor, psychologist, pharmacologist, psychiatrist, TBI researcher, TBI book reader.........

Arthur Moss III, President of Automatic Heating & Air in Victorville, CA is something of a rarity. Arthur's father, Arthur Moss Jr (Art) and his business partner established their business in 1952. Art and his wife Pat took over management of the business during the 1970's, and Arthur began working there as a teenager. Arthur (III) and his wife Lisa began managing the business in 1998 when Art & Pat retired.

"The vacation to Sturgis was the first Arthur had taken in 17 years, he lives and breathes our family business," said Lisa Moss. "Even as his brain recovered through the coma stages, he recited information pertaining to jobs he believes he is working on."

The Moss' have three children: Nicole (16), Arthur IV (14) and Courtney (12) are their ages at the time of Arthur's injury.

As Arthur struggles daily to recover, family, friends, and company employees work to carry on. "Our employees are the glue that holds us together," said Lisa Moss, "they have all taken on additional job responsibilities and even visit Arthur on the weekends while in the care facilities."

While the stress of Moss' accident on the family has been tremendous, the financial burden is also severe. The owner of the truck involved in the accident, and his son, the driver, were both uninsured. Concerned about the Moss family's ability to deal with medical expenses related to the accident, friends organized a benefit car show...

It's amazing the number of people's lives Arthur and the Moss family have touched over the years," said Jim Gorman, longtime resident, fellow Victor Valley businessman and husband of Arthur's younger sister Robin, "it's great to see some of that coming back around as a hardworking guy struggles just to get back to his life."

Five years later Arthur still struggles daily with the aftermath of his injury, and though he has come a long way he will never regain the ability to work or drive again. Hero’s come in many forms while teaching us things alone the way. Arthur is one of the heroes whose injury has allowed others hope education and support who have sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury.

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The Forker Project

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 20:17:06 GMT

Valerie Forker was devastated when her 20-year-old son, Jeff, suffered a severe traumatic brain injury in a car accident four years ago. In an instant, Jeff Forker went from an independent young man with the world in front of him to one who required care 24 hours a day, seven days a week — possibly for the rest of his life.

Valerie — a single mom — had to quit her full-time job to become her son’s full-time caretaker. She helps transfer her 6-foot-tall, 200-pound son in and out of bed and helps him reposition in his wheelchair throughout the day. She also assists with his speech, physical and occupational therapy.
As one can imagine, this level of care leaves Valerie very little time and money to maintain the family’s Apple Valley home, and her insurance was threatening to cancel her homeowner’s policy if she didn’t make some repairs.

Thankfully, the Forker family belongs to Hesperia-based Brainstorming 4 Us, Inc., a non-profit organization that provides education and support to those affected by brain injury.

With March as National Brain In j u r y Awareness Month , volunteers at Brainstorming 4 Us submitted the Forker’s story to Southwest Gas for consideration as one of the company’s “BLUE” projects, where employees work on “Building Lives Up Everywhere” by doing local community service projects.

The BLUE team accepted the challenge, and started by repairing the Forker’s fence, which had blown down, to help keep their insurance intact. Southwest Gas covered the cost of materials and enlisted the help of Accent Fence of Apple Valley, which donated the labor required to repaired the fence before the deadline.

“Safety-wise it’s a huge peace of mind the things that they were able to do,” Valerie Forker said. “We were having people come in our yard because of the broken fence and we had had some stuff stolen.”

Then came the real work. Over the course of four hours on Saturday, 35 “BLUE” volunteers helped to transform the Forker’s home and yard. “I was so thrilled with the turnout,” said Nancy Keller, who headed up the project for Southwest Gas. “We had adults, we had kids, but everybody worked hard.”

The Forker home held many obstacles for Jeff, who is wheelchair-bound. The team removed shrubs and laid gravel in the front yard, so Valerie can pull her van up to the front door to load Jeff in and out. They also widened a concrete walkway in her backyard, so that Jeff ’s wheelchair fits on the path. Inside, the team added security features including a lock bar on the sliding glass door, securing bookshelves to the wall in case they were bumped and installing blinds and screen doors throughout the house.

To finish the job, the team cleared weeds in the front and back yards and upgraded the flower beds, Keller said, give the home “a more finished look.” And they’re not done yet. Forker said the team is coming back to finish one more project: a trapeze over Jeff’s bed so he can pull himself up, and hopefully regain some use in his right arm.

The project is the BLUE team’s first this year, though they try to do one major volunteer project each quarter. Next Keller said they’ll tackle work at the High Desert Domestic Violence Program and then the Moonridge Zoo in Big Bear.

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Chris Thornhill

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:05:34 GMT

A Thankful Young man

My name is Chris Thornhill and I am 20 years old. When I was 18, three months after I graduated from high school with a 4.0 GPA, I got a brain booboo. I was driving to fast and took out a light post. I was in a coma for 10 days and in the hospital for 2 months. I had a severe brain injury, I broke my right arm, four right ribs, collar bone, leg, and fractured my pelvis. I also had severe lung contusions. When I came out of a coma, I couldn't talk or anything, I just laid in bed. That was in September of 2007. I have been going to therapy for a long time. Now I can walk and talk and do most things normally. My biggest struggle is my memory, my memory, and worst of all, my memory. I am currently enrolled in my first online college course, hopefully I survive! My hope and goals for the future are to be completely healed, to drive again, to be a professional paintball player, and to meet St Nick. I thank God everyday that I am still alive, and I thank my family for helping me.

My Brother

My name is Summer and I am 13 years old. I have a big loving family, and my brother has a brain injury. His name is Chris and when he was 18 he was speeding in his car and lost control. It happened when I was asleep. I woke up to the sound of my grandpa’s voice. He told me what had happened and that both my parents were at the hospital with him. I went in my room and cried. My grandma came in and tried to comfort me. After awhile my mom stayed home at night while my dad was at the hospital. My mom stayed at the hospital during the days, and sometimes she would let me go with her. It made me happy that I could see him. Every time he went to therapy he improved. I can’t tell you what it felt like to see him finally talking and walking. Even though he didn’t like therapy one bit, I am thankful for it. That was in 2007, but now in 2009, he is home and can do everything. I play games with him and tell him jokes because I love to see him laugh after all he has been through. He still has a couple things to improve on, but he is working on them. The thing that I like about my brother most is that when he laughs, he brings smiles to everyone. Even though he and I can’t do things we used to do together, we still have fun and laugh together all the time.

A Mother’s Child

My name is Debbie Thornhill. When my son Chris was 18, he was in a life threatening car accident. He suffered a severe brain injury, and several other injuries. When my son came home from the hospital he had to learn to do everything all over again; from eating, to daily living skills, to walking and talking. It was like having a combative, hallucinating, 100+ pound infant that couldn't sleep!! It was heartbreaking to see my son in this condition and to not be able to fix it all for him. My husband and I have five children and this is the hardest thing we have ever gone through. That being said, it has also been the most inspiring thing. To watch my son struggle, yet strive to do better, stumble yet relearn how to stand strong, have weak moments yet bring all his strength to the surface has changed our lives in so many ways. It has been 1 ½ years. He is still in therapy and still improves each day. He recently started his first online college course that teaches him how to use a PDA (handheld personal computer/cell phone) to help him remember his daily schedule, appointments etc. This experience has also been the most touching thing, as members of our family gave with all of their hearts and they, along with friends and even strangers, prayed with all of their faith. They made it all so much more bearable during the times I though I couldn't bear another moment. But, most of all, it has given me a strong relationship with God, who has seen me through my darkest times, and held me together when I thought I would crumble to pieces. Of course I wish my son did not have to go through anything so severe and I am so thankful to have him with us. He has taught me a lot about life, and about myself. He is still severally struggling with his memory, but with God’s grace, we are hoping this will improve over time. In good conscience, I cannot end this without saying, if you suspect at all that your child may not be driving as safe and careful as possible, TAKE THE KEYS, no matter what!! Please. Chris was a very recent 4.0 GPA high school graduate, responsibly working a summer job, did not use drugs or drink and had never been in any kind of serious trouble. Thank God nobody else was hurt in the accident. Chris was street racing.

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Surviving through faith

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:05:12 GMT

BY SARAH BOYER
STAFF WRITER

After Kelley Hyland suffered a traumatic brain injury in a motorcycle accident on Nov. 1, 2007, doctors told his family on several occasions that there was “no hope.” But his family says they have learned that sometimes God has other plans.

Hyland was returning home to Phelan from work in Moreno Valley, where he was a deputy for Riverside County, when a truck pulled in front of him on Highway 138. Hyland struck the rear of the truck and was then airlifted to Arrowhead Regional Medical Center. He remained in a coma for nearly nine months.

“The doctors told us he would be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life,” recalled his wife, Vicki.

But on Christmas Eve 2008, Kelley returned home, where he has continued to recover.

“He can read, write and drive his motorized wheelchair around,” said his mother, Marcia Hyland. “It is only by God’s grace, mercy and a multitude of prayers from around the world that Kelley is alive today.”

Vicki Hyland agreed and recalled some of her prayers for her husband.
“I would say, ‘God, he’s yours if you decide to take him home, but if you decide to leave him here, please help him to get better,’” Vicki said. And in spite of some frightening moments along the way, Kelley has exceeded all his doctors’ expectations.

When Vicki recently took Kelley to his office in Moreno Valley to retrieve some personal belongings, he drove his wheelchair to his locker and told his co-workers to expect him back in a year. A short time later, he took the microphone during a church service and told the congregation of these plans.

“He is a fighter and I have no doubt that he’ll return to law enforcement in some capacity,” Vicki said.

Vicki said she attributes her husband’s recovery, in part, to the scriptures she read to him every day.

“I’ve met so many moms with children who suffered from brain injuries and I always tell them not to lose faith — to love, touch and read the Bible to their children. That’s what I did with Kelley, and I never left without prayers and kisses. Other people I’ve seen with no one who did this for them haven’t made the same kind of progress,” Vicki said.

Vicki also recalled the people from all over the world who have prayed for Kelley. She said everyone from Phelan Community Church, where Kelley’s father, Jim Hyland, is the pastor had prayed for Kelley. They asked congregations of other churches to pray, and countless people the family met during Kelley’s hospital stays did the same.

“Eventually, we had people praying from all over the U.S. and even from a church in Scotland,” Vicki said.

Vicki has also created a Web page where anyone can read about Kelley’s experiences, share prayers and track his progress. Hyland’s Web site can be viewed at www.caringbridge.com.

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Jim & Lois Cawthorn

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:04:53 GMT

Recovering from a traumatic brain injury (TBI) can be both frustrating and overwhelming for both the victim and their family members. Spring Valley Lake residents, Lois and Jim Cawthorn, can attest to that. Jim suffered from TBI approximately 8-1/2 years ago from a horse riding accident. “The horse got spooked, threw its head back, hit Jim in the head and the face and threw him to the ground,” recalled Lois. He spent one month in a coma and was also on life support. Once out of the coma, Jim spent 5-1/2 months in rehab. “He had to relearn how to do everything all over again...brush his teeth, comb his hair, walk...everyday was a challenge,” said Lois. Today, Jim is no longer in therapy and although he uses a wheelchair, he is able to walk with the assistance of a walker. He does, however, have problems with ataxia which involves the coordination of voluntary muscles and affects his balance. As far as his memory goes, long-term is excellent, but short-term or day to day memory is something he occasionally struggles with. Jim is currently involved in an organization called Project Care. He makes wooden model toy trucks which are donated to needy children or sold to raise funds for needy children. Jim’s team at Project Care will also bring their items to children with traumatic brain injury at Loma Linda Medical Center.
As caregiver, the biggest struggle for Lois was watching and helping her husband meet his daily tasks. Aside from that, there was also the financial burdens to be met and dealing with finding the right doctors and professionals to get the right care for Jim. “I was always looking to see if there is anything new or advanced in the field that doctors don’t know about yet or insurance doesn’t cover.”explains Lois. “It’s hard trying to find answers on your own and not knowing where to go for more information.” One day, she read an article in the Daily Press regarding a fellow Desert survivor of TBI, Arthur Moss. Reading further on in the article, Lois found the support she was looking for. Arthur’s wife Lisa and sister Tanya were offering that support. There was a meeting scheduled that night and Lois and Jim have been attending those meetings for 6 months now.

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Kevin Santos' Personal Story

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:04:33 GMT

The Story of a Minor Who Had So Much

The day was July 19th, 2004, at about 4:20 in the evening, the summer before my senior year in high school; I was on my way home from work, working at my dream in a law office the day of my accident. The office personnel had already informed me that I would be welcome to join their firm once I did obtain my law degree, which would, granted, be many years in the future. But still, to already have job security at the age of 17. How many kids can say that?

I had done exemplary in high school the three years that I had attended prior to my near fatal automobile accident; achieving nearly perfect grades in all academic areas. Then, of course, there was my personal life. I was very popular among my peers, mainly because I treated everyone the same; regardless of race, gender, or creed. And unfortunately, what matters in high school, how you look.

Nearly all the students at my high school were my friends, a lot of them being female; I not only had a lot of female friends to make me feel good about myself, but also to make most of the other male students jealous. In addition, I have also found that females are usually a whole lot nicer and way more understanding than their male counterparts. However, as I said, I was friends with nearly everybody at my high school.

The medical terminology that is used to describe my injury is: Diffuse Axonal Injury with Shearing and a Ventricular Bleed; all this meaning, the actual brain coverings from “throughout” my head were literally stretched to almost their breaking points! I was put directly into a coma, staying in one for approximately 2 ½ months. I was also cursed with HO (Heterotopic Ossification) in my left knee and a contracture in my left arm, which, thankfully, I was able to break through.

I returned to school and attended the second semester of my senior year on-site. When I returned in January, on the very first day of the second semester, I returned as somewhat of a small celebrity. Somehow everyone had heard about my accident, even people I didn’t know prior to my accident were coming up to me, shaking my hand, hugging me and saying, “Hey, Kevin, how are you?”

Since then, and the two standing ovations I received during my senior year, I have wanted nothing else but to become famous and get the word out about TBI: one of the most difficult and widely spread injuries in the United States. It is even known as “The Silent Epidemic.”

In order to become famous I am now attempting to become an author. I am currently working on the book I first began when I was just 12-years-old; although I have already written several short pieces that I will attempt to have published first, some of which already have been; in fact, I’ve already won quite a few awards for writing. Then, I will submit my full-length book for publication.

--Here’s to miracles and hard work. Both of which I know a whole lot about now.

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Frank Scott

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 16:18:51 GMT

The disruption of my brain began when I woke up one morning in June of 2006. I got up, started down the hallway and noticed my balance was gone. I kept bumping into the wall and couldn't read. I knew right away something was wrong. I woke up my son and instructed him to drive me to Loma Linda Hospital to determine what was going on. I called my girlfriend and explained to her what was going on she said she would meet us at Loma Linda.

Once there, the surgeons ran tests and diagnosed the brain had bled deep on the right side of my brain because of a malformation of a blood vessel and the effects of the blood in the brain resulted in dramatically reducing my motor skills and muscle control on the left side. In the beginning it was so bad I couldn’t hold my head up or keep it straight.

The Loma Linda physical therapists worked with me and corrected the motor control on my neck with the website Power Center.

It was alarming to say the least, but with faith in the lord and support and prayers from family and friends I moved forward with more therapy by walking with a cane, but grew concerned if I would ever return to my broadcasting career in the high desert. I did work for a year when I was released in August 2006 but then laid off in November of 2007. That's when my economy took a downturn and I experienced a full range of emotions. I also lost my peripheral vision on the left side so I can't drive and I finally received my Medicare in 2008 and I have returned to physical therapy.

During that time of waiting for health care I wanted to do something I wanted to return to work. I am working with the Department of Rehabilitation trying to find work or go back to school. My brain I believe has healed some as more motor functions return and I can handle stress better. I was all over the internet looking for that perfect at home job, but came up short so I might explore the options of an at home production studio and maybe apply for grants to help start it up and hire the disabled. The lord gave me many good years of experience in broadcasting so I would like to put it to good use and possibly utilize my experiences to help others who have sustained a traumatic brain injury.

It is not an easy road to recovery. It takes faith in God. It takes strong family ties and great friends who care and will endure with you and love you unconditionally no matter what you say or do because they know it is the result of the injury or surgery.

I remember what it says in the book of James when we face these trials: my brothers and sisters,4consider it nothing but joy5 when you fall into all sorts of trials, 1:3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. 1:4 and let endurance have its perfect effect, so that you will be perfect and complete, not deficient in anything. 1:5 but if anyone is deficient in wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without reprimand, and it will be given to him. 1:6 but he must ask in faith without doubting, Amen.

The lord has given generously to me and he will give to you All you do is ask

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On My Own by Elaine Martinez

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 19:25:16 GMT

My day started as an ordinary one. I got up and fed the kids, talked to an instructor who had become a friend of mine at the University of Wyoming, (UW) where I was in my first year of college at age 36. Though I had no idea what my major was going to be I had reasoned with myself that there were certain general education requirements that had to be met for a degree and I may as well start there. I had recently separated from my son’s father and left him a distance of 325 miles, on the south western side of Wyoming; I was now in Laramie, the south eastern side of the state.

The separation was difficult on the children and I knew the situation that lay ahead was going to be hard for them. I had determined in my heart to stay close to them, to be there for them through it all. Their father and I could not work out certain situations in our lives and so therefore I left. I wanted to get out on my own and do something with my life instead of just living as a wife of a man who I felt didn’t even like me. I was full of bright sunny optimism even though there was a divorce on the horizon I was still somehow relieved. The last time I spoke to my then husband was when he was visiting his sons and had them at the hotel in Laramie. He had told me that night to go file for divorce. This was about two weeks before the crash.

March 4th. My math instructor at UW, Cindy had been generously offering to tutor me in math. Math is not a strong point for me so I accepted any and all help with this subject. She and her husband Pete were both educators, Cindy at UW and Pete a physics instructor at the Laramie high school. So off the boys and I went to Vasek’s home on Sully Street. The kids went to the park across the road after Cindy had treated them to some homemade goodies. I sat down with her to study fractions. After a few hours of work I felt good about what we had covered and gathered the children to go home. We went home and ate lunch then headed off to the big park where I would run and do pushups. I worked out six days a week and had since I was 18. The kids drank Shasta soda, played at the park, called out to me as I ran the encircling path for my seven miles. We then loaded up in the truck and went home. It was a crisp warm March day, unusual for the 7300’ elevation in south eastern Wyoming. I had just insured my 1986 Yamaha Virago 1100 with an eye on riding her every chance I had. I adored motorcycling. I had ridden since 1987 and it was a love affair that one cannot understand unless they do it themselves.

I took the kids home and did some things around the house, they went across the street to play along the banks of Spring Creek. Though it was still winter in Wyoming the warm March sun had allowed the main channel of the little creek to thaw. It was the perfect setting for three little boys to dig with sticks and toss rocks in the water as they scramble along the creek banks. Though the twins, Joseph and Daniel were 8 years old I knew I could leave them with Michael for thirty minutes as I drove to the tanning salon a few blocks away. I called the kids in to the fenced yard and told them I’d be back in a half hour. As usual Michael, the 5 year old had run into the house and was beside me in his leathers and boots with helmet in hand wanting to go with mom. Though all three boys loved riding with mom, Michael was the fastest at my side and we had shared many great fall rides in Laramie. Blasting thought streets that had canopy’s of trees over them and leaves about a foot deep was a great time. The roar and color of leaves with the swishing sound of it all was a memorable experience for both of us. We still recall those fond memories today. I told Michel he could go next time and then said: “Love ya, be back in 30” kissed them, and mounted my beautiful, black 1100. I picked that bike out brand new myself and paid for it while working the oil patch. She still looked like the day I bought her, tooth brush cared for by me.

Wyoming does not have a mandatory helmet law for over 18 and that is the way I rode, helmetless! I liked a bandana and the long hair ratting in the wind; it was just part of the wildness of biking perhaps. I don’t know why I went down 3rd Street instead of going the usual route from 11th to 17th where the salon was. I do not remember the crash. From reading the police report I have pieced it together what happened. As I was riding down 3rd Street north behind a blazer and another vehicle in front of that one. I had decided to pass them in the left lane and off on Park Avenue to the right of me was a Nissan pickup with Michael Gannon driving it. There are three stories on the police report that he gave to three different officers so I am unclear if he stopped or not. The fact is he had to stop; I had the unobstructed right of way for about 8 more blocks where the traffic lights started. In one story Mr. Gannon says he did not see me, yet in another he says he saw me and I was moving fast, yet he thought he could make it. He was turning North bound, I apparently did not see him because of the vehicle I was passing obstructed my view of that intersection just enough to miss seeing him. I T boned him doing between 40-50 MPH or so the police report states. A little girl that went to 4th grade with the twins saw this wreck; she also knew it was me as we lived next to Spring Creek Elementary where Daniel and Joseph went to school.

I was scraped up off the ground in Laramie, taken to the ER there and stabilized then put in an ambulance code 3 to Ft. Collins, Colorado as the hospital in Laramie was not equipped to deal with trauma of that kind. Poudre Valley Memorial is a very good head trauma center; this was something I learned many years later. I have no memories of my stay there. I was in a comma, and in fact not expected to live, as the children were told upon seeing me hooked up to life support in the ICU. My children and medical records are the only information I have from the stay in Colorado. When I awoke it was said I was combative. My sons tell of a mom waking up that they did not know and mom did not know them. I called them by other names, those of brothers and sisters. They were confused in the beginning but the staff at the hospital took them in and talked to them about these issues. After I awoke I was flown to Salt Lake City, Utah because it was closer to the kid’s dad’s house in Wyoming. Steve took the kids to Evanston, put them in school and went back to work. My stay in Utah was from about the 29th of March to the 1st of May 2000. I have some shadowy memories from the Utah stay but many of them do not make sense. I have memories of mean nurses and some are indeed true. One nurse in particular was angry with me because I had to use the restroom so much, being just off a catheter and on IV fluids I really had no choice. Apparently the Dr.’s did not want me to go to the restroom or even get out of bed unassisted. I was confined to a wheel chair anyway. They did not want me bearing weight. I stopped calling for assistance and bore weight to use the toilet after this nurse told me “I am just going to keep a bed pan under you.” I was tired of being yelled at and it was easier to do it on my own though it was dangerous I wouldn’t listen.

Though I did not know it until over a year after the crash, I broke both legs multiply, crushed both knees, broke my right arm in three places as well as crushing the right wrist and elbow, nearly ripped the upper portion of my right ring finger off, crushed my right eye socket, broke my pelvis in six places, ripped the muscles of my thighs from the bones, and received a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). There were many other broken parts and torn pieces, perhaps too many to name here but those were the main ones. The police report states I was traveling at speeds between 40-50 mph. I had not bothered to read medical reports for years to come. I was concerned with getting those kids back by my side and emotionally well; showing them mom was going to be all right.

My first memory was of my husband sitting sideways on a chair in the hospital room with his knees bent over the arm and his back on the other side. He was staring at a small wall. The twins were in chairs, the looks on their faces are burned in my mind forever, anger, fear, hurt, and pain. My five year old Michael was crying at my bedside, begging me: “please mom when you get out home school me.” He had never wanted o be home schooled before. Though the twins had been home taught their whole lives before our separation; this was their first year in public school and Michael’s first year period. How he loved getting on that “Big yellow bus” that stopped at our door in the mornings for his half day at school. He also loved mom coming to class with cupcakes and reading to the other kids in class. I recall the first time I was to read to children in his class. Just before getting ready to go I had done my morning workout and told Michael I’m ready. He looked at me and said “mom no” I said what? You have to wear a dress, do your hair and wear makeup. How cute he was.

I do not know how many days or chances I gave Steve, but he came and brought the children, yet never touched me. He never said “I’m so glad you made it” never did he utter a word of affection to me. I was confused and did not fully realize all that had went on or how things should be progressing between us Perhaps it was a week later, though it may have been days. I have a very limited memory from LDS hospital in Utah. I knew we were separated and basically I had gotten hurt, I knew I was supposed to be there. I decided that if he does not tell me he is glad I’m alive or that he loves me I am calling my attorney. Again I do not know how I rationalized this in my mind. Perhaps I just knew he should have been happy I was alive? That is a question I will never have answered. He never did, I called my attorney in Laramie and told him to proceed. I had no idea what I was doing, nothing really made sense but I didn’t know it at the time. I was not able to rationalize any of the situations. I do know there were conversations between us where he was suggesting he take the boys. You would have to kill this mom first! I cut him off from all information on my condition because I made the Dr. aware that we were going through a divorce, it is interesting that this order I gave him caused him to call Steve, and ask him “is she back to normal now” Steve’s reply was yes. Steve had assumed that since I was talking of our divorce that things were back to normal. The medical staff had to honor my wishes and not share information with him. Not too long after I did this, I started faking that I was feeling better and acting just the same to get out of the hospital and get those boys home with me. I was plotting with a sister in California, neither of us was aware of my brain injury.

The cast on my arm was made of foam rubber and light metal framing and it hurt terribly to wear it on my arm so I started taking it off. Apparently it was tolerable at an earlier time when my arm fit into it because of swelling but now the weight of it was very painful. The nurse and I fought about it, I recall telling her “this is not martial law! It is my choice if I WANT TO WEAR IT I WILL NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! I was quite combative which I learned many years later is normal with TBI and coming out of a comma. In the early days of recovery, before my memory, and per the boys, I would tear tubes, wires, and anything out and attempt to leave. I fell out of bed one time as a nurse had released me from restraints but turned her back on me. Of course I fell on the side that was more damaged, my right side.

Upon release, May 1, 2000 my sister from Big Bear California drove to Salt Lake City to pick me up. We conspired to get the boys; I had not told anyone else I was to be released. She drove us to Wyoming from Salt Lake City about 90 miles. We stopped at the old family home and she packed all of the kid’s belongings into her pathfinder. Thankfully my F250 was at the house with the keys on the table. We took it to rent a transport, Helen loaded the Nissan on the transport, attached it to the Ford and we went to Clark Elementary where the kids had been re-registered in a new school up the street from dads. We showed up at the school with Helen wheeling me into the office in my wheel chair as I was confined to it. I asked for each boy and they brought them to the office. The reunion was memorable, they were shocked to say the least, we hugged, kissed, loaded up in the truck and I said lets go boys were going home.

I slept for the next three weeks as my sister stayed with us, cooking and cleaning. Michael got his wish and mom home taught him in bed for the rest of his kindergarten year. We were then left on our own and I was home bound for eight more months as I could not drive or even get down the ramp to the house alone. I did after a time, start driving out of necessity. We were new in Laramie and I did not have a network of friends to assist us. We did belong to a church, Grace Baptist I believe and they were very generous to us, they did what the church should do. They cared for us in many ways such as ordering for, and paying for meals on wheels for eight months. Taking me to surgeries, bringing me home, picking up the boys for Awana youth group and taking us to and from church on Sunday.

Though I was home, I was not there so to speak. I was on heavy medication. I took two oxicotin a day with two percoset every two hours for pain. I eventually became very tolerant to these drugs and remain so to all pain medication. I drove to the grocery store, the kids took me down the ramp to the truck and on one good leg, I put on a step stool, boosted myself into the truck. They loaded the chair. At the store they did the reverse. I shopped for food that did not have to be prepared though as I could not stand up and cook on one leg with only one arm to use. We managed but looking back we should have never been on our own. I underwent three more major surgeries in less than 6 months. One was to replace the metal rod in my leg as when I started to bear weight the pins broke and it would not allow the tibia to heal. Thus I walked on a broken leg until it was fixed. The second was for bone a graft, the third was excruciating, a metal elbow joint to replace the joint in my arm that could not be saved. The pain from that surgery is agonizing pain. I have had three replacements in less than six years as they have all been broken by my will to live. I have had a total of eight surgeries on it in just under seven years.

I was in divorce court less than two months after I got out of a wheel chair. The papers were final in March of 2001 just over a year after that wreck. After the divorce and my first semester back at the University of Wyoming we moved to so California. All I wanted was to move where I could have my horses and see them from the window. I got it here in Phelan. I never did get to just curl up and heal like I imagined I would. Life took over and I put one foot in front of the other and went on. Though my reasoning skills were gone I was not aware of this. A male friend of mine showed up at our house in Laramie as we were packing the Penske truck, or rather people from church and another group of volunteers were packing it. Curt is a school teacher and was in nearby Cheyenne visiting his brother for the summer break. I told him he could have some furniture I was giving away. He ended up driving us here, convinced that I could not possibly handle that huge truck and the U-Haul pulled behind it. The big truck was a twenty five foot and the U-Haul was about an eleven foot trailer. My sister flew out and drove my truck that pulled two of my three horses. One horse was in Big Bear that she had taken in May of 2000.

I was able to purchase a home here in the High Desert, continue with my education though my memory was very fragmented and I was not me. I went through several different personality changes over a six year period. About five years or so after the accident I saw a story about a man who was in a wreck very much like mine. In fact he was in hospitals in Utah as well. His crash was in Utah but he is from the High Desert where I now live. Arthur Moss is the man, and his wife Lisa started a support recovery group out here. I saw the story on the front page of the newspaper and contacted her. I do believe I was the first member of brainstorming4us. There are many wonderful families that belong to this group and we help each other get through TBI one day at a time. I want to share some of the recovery process that I have been blessed to achieve.

The Long and Winding Road

There are many different phases of recovery with brain injury. Though an injury can be the same type in two people the outcomes may be very different. I do not believe it is possible for me to judge anyone else’ outcome from their injury, I want to state that just because I recovered that it means another’s recovery will mirror mine. I don’t think a physician can do that either. The brain is a very complex organ and though it can be very delicate and at the same time very resilient and strong. Though the brainstorming4us support group I was given much literature and information on brain injury and I will use one of these sources to somewhat outline and show some of my recovery.

The sheet I will be describing recovery phases from is from the Inland Resource Center in Colton California.

Fact Sheet
Coping with Behavior Problems After Brain Injury.

“Even a person who makes a “good” recovery may go through some personality changes. Family members must be careful to avoid always comparing the impaired person with the way he/she “used to be.” Personality changes are often an exaggeration of the person's pre-injury personality in which personality traits become intensified.”

I went through several years of personality changes. Though at the time, I had no idea that I was or had undergone such a thing. When I was in my twenties and early thirties I was quite wild, I worked in a rough area in Wyoming. The oil boom was big when I worked for the second largest oil company in the world. I was loud, abrasive, sarcastic, unapologetically rude, determined and just not afraid to tell you what I thought. My language was beyond colorful as well. When I went down on that bike my sons had never heard me swear. However when I awoke from a comma I was swearing at everyone that I came into contact with. I did not know the kids; apparently I called them by my siblings names. I have no memory of this, the children have been my memory. It has taken almost eight years to stop swearing. I am prone to use colorful language when I am stressed out. In a nutshell as the article mentions above there were traits that were exaggerated, though in this case they were traits I had laid to rest a good number of years before.

Memory Problems

“Head injury survivors may experience short-term problems and/or amnesia related to certain periods of time. Generally, new learning presents the greatest challenge to memory or remembering. In contrast, pre-injury knowledge is more easily retained.”

Indeed I had memory problems for almost seven years. Initially I had amnesia for almost the entire two month hospital stay. I had extremely fragmented memory for the next four years. I struggled with academics terribly due to this. I could not recall what I studied over a two day period in anticipation for testing purposes though I studied intensly. I am approaching my eighth year anniversary on March 4th and though most of my memory works well I have forgotten things in the past. I cannot recall any of my hospital stay with my youngest son, though I do recall his birth. I could not recall the church I got married in nor the vows at all. New learning was very difficult and I am not entirely certain that I am over that yet because I still struggle with coursework and retention.

Lack of Emotion

“After a head injury a person may lack emotional responses such as smiling, laughing, crying, anger, or enthusiasm or their responses may be inappropriate. This may be especially present during the earlier stages of recovery.”

I experienced a lack of emotion for two years or more. Again I was not aware of this at the time, I am able to look back and see it very clearly now. I just did not feel empathy, sympathy or any other normal emotion that might accompany something sad in life. For example, I ran over several cats in a few years backing out of the carport or if the kittens were just playing near the car and I did not see them. I was very matter of fact about it. I had my sons scoop them up with a shovel and dispose of them without even thinking about it. I had injured a kitten very bad and he needed to be shot as it was suffering. I had Joseph get the 22 and shoot him. I reasoned they were boys and needed to learn how to do this stuff anyway. What needs to be realized is that I did not know any better as my reasoning skills were gone. What I did not realize was they were too young! I recall the time Joseph was bitten by one of our dogs and I took care of him. But I felt nothing; I did not scold him or say mean things to him. I just doctored him and went on. I had a love affair with my horses and recall thinking if one got hurt well…I just shrugged my shoulders and walked on. I was flat lined, not much bothered me. I am fine now and I cannot explain to you how or why.

I had poor concentration, lack of reasoning, inappropriate sexual comments/behavior at times. I had terrible anxiety and did not recognize that. I was afraid to drive at night for years, though my accident was in the day time. I almost abandoned my faith and I am very glad I did not do that as my faith defines who I am. I just did not know it then. When skills I had lost started to return to me was when I realized that I was going to be OK. I did not know I had lost these skills though, not until they came back. I am talking about skills such as: my organizational skills, parenting skills, my sense of discipline and in fact I had not realized that I had been unable to write for two years. That is until one evening I had written a two page English paper and I was so excited by this. When I realized that my faith was not what it used to be I actually reasoned with myself that it too would return. It has returned and from the first realization of that to the time it was restored was about 18 months. I was absolutely unaware of these deficits.

I never had any physical therapy though I limped for two years. I can no longer run or even jog. My body strength has been reduced by about 60%. I used to be a very fit, strong woman. As soon as I was able to, and with a cane I started to walk. I have walked the desert now for almost seven years and it has helped me rebuild my body. I would say that education has defiantly restored some of my brain healing. I was dismissed from the hospital without any instructions on how to care for myself, where to go for follow up treatments and so on. I moved 1005 miles with two 11 year olds and a 7 year old to a place where I knew no one. I bought a home. I did not think these things through I just put one foot in front of the other and functioned. I recall telling myself that in the early days of recovery in Laramie, “just function, function.” I collapsed on the street at the University of Wyoming directly in front of a car and to this day I have no idea why. I was and had been feeling fine.

The reality of my story is I am essentially recovered. I have been in school for almost my entire recovery. Though the progress has been slower than I would have liked I have children and my twins are just about grown. I have seven classes left to complete my Bachelor of Science. I have sold my home in so California and though I will miss some dear friends and the members of my support group I am looking forward to starting over in eastern Washington. My hope an my prayer for those that have been affected by this type of tragedy is: to do the best they can. My heart goes out to caregivers, moms, dads, and spouses. I am happy to have witnessed so many caregivers who stood by their loved ones during this time of tragedy.

Upon closing I would like to say that my faith allowed me to weather this. There is no doubt in my mind that there is a God in heaven who answers prayers. I cannot tell anyone else why their prayers were not answered. I am no one special but I just have to trust that God knows what he is doing and it is up to me to follow silently. This has not been an easy recovery by any stretch of the imagination. It has forever affected my children in ways I cannot measure. I do hope to put this behind me and move on with life, I have too.

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Fast and Fearless by Joseph Schmidt

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 19:20:25 GMT

In every person’s life there are times in which one’s life takes a turning point. These events can stimulate changes for the better or the worse; in either case they shape the rest of that person’s life. Although they may vary in importance and frequency, they equally shape us into the unique individuals that we are. The most profound of these experiences are often traumatic incidents which occur early in life, in childhood. Such is the event that has shaped my own life and made me much of the person I am today; a cruel trick of fate that victimized my siblings and me early in our lifetime.
I still remember that deceivingly tranquil spring day; I remember playing on the swing set in the warm Wyoming sun while a faint breeze made the chartreuse canopy of leaves above applaud at the beautiful green carpet of grass which had sprung from the ice of a bitter winter. My mind has photographed the yellow-brown wheatgrass that grew by the creek across the street and the tinkle of the shimmering water flowing in between stones shaped by the endless flow. I still can hear the rumble of my mother’s motorcycle and the sound of her voice telling us that she would be back in 30 minutes and the smell of exhaust and leather that accompanied her. The deceiving images of a seemingly perfect day.

I wish I could forget the memories of pain that still haunt me; I wish that my mind was not programmed to archive the most painful events in life. I remember five hours of waiting for her to return; the worried look on my brother’s faces as we sat on the clapboard porch swing, ears straining to hear the guttural drone of her Yamaha. I recall the jeering sound of the phone ringing and the electric pulses in my body as I rushed to pick it up and the sound of a dry, emotionless voice telling me that there had been an accident. I can still see the faces of my 8 and 4 year old brother’s faces marred with pain and grief as alkaline streaks poured down their faces. I can still feel the lump of dismay in my stomach when I realized that we were three small boys alone in a huge city with our only real parent dying on an operating table a few miles away. I remember the confusion, the hurt, the hate, and the sadness that overwhelmed my life for three years to come. The sight of a broken body that once called itself “Mother” and the will to live in a woman who saw her sons’ lives fall apart while she ran a gauntlet of bone grafts, prosthetic joints, and reconstructive surgery.

My mother’s memories would differ very greatly from mine if you asked her about March 4th 2000. She has no memory of that date nor of any day for nearly two months after that. Her day was much like mine in many ways. She woke up early and took her sons to the park to play and while she jogged along the encircling asphalt path. Upon return home she mounted her charcoal motorcycle, told her three boys she would be back in a half hour and headed for the tanning salon.

My mother was almost half way to the salon when providence turned perfidious. While crossing one of the many frontage roads laced between the rows of puce, boxlike downtown buildings a drunk driver in a Nissan pickup ran a stop sign and pulled out in front of her. The consequences were devastating. My mother hit the truck dead center at 40 mph. She was catapulted 15 feet into the air and her crushed and crumpled motorcycle still bears the five-inch-deep impression where she landed on her pelvis. The damage done to her motorcycle gave the impression that it had been put in a car compacter, but it was trivial compared to the damage done to my mother’s body.

My mother shattered 70% of her right arm; her wrist and elbow were reduced to splinters on impact. She also crushed both of her knees, her pelvis, and her right eye socket pulverizing both bone and flesh. Yet to look at her you are not able to discern this in her face, she has no scarring, and did not have her head cracked open. She remained in a coma for three weeks after her accident and sustained a brain injury that, still after 7 years, has not healed fully. Countless different hospitals in four different states still have not been able to repair the damage that was done. However, what was at one time a hopeless case has become an amazing recovery and my mother has almost returned to the person she once was.

My mother’s arm, and legs still bear the scars of countless surgeries and lacerations that resulted from the accident but these are the only things that distinguish her from any other 40-year-old single mother externally. But her skin hides a fused wrist, a metal elbow, two prosthetic knees, and countless bone grafts. Her mobility is severely limited and her arm is very delicate. However, she lives with her injuries and performs most of the functions of daily life. Without observing her for some time it is impossible to tell she is disabled at all.

But those who knew her still see the change in her and her three sons internally. My mother is no longer the picturesque parent she once was; nor are my brothers and I the sweet little boys we once were. Although my little brother was largely unaffected by the ordeal because of his young age at the time, my twin and I bear the emotional scars of two young boys who watched their mother die and come back to life incomplete.

Our family has been brought together by the pain that we have endured together. I am inseparable from my brothers and, although rocky at times, I have a newfound appreciation for the relationship that I have with my mother. We all make sure that before anyone goes anywhere they know how much we love them because you may not get that chance later on.

As my mother continues to heal psychologically and physiologically most of the stressful burdens that I have born have been lifted although I still have to mediate when stresses of life come upon us. My mother has now achieved an associate’s degree a paralegal certification, and is currently working on her political science degree/pre law and they are accelerated courses that are only allowed 8 weeks of time to complete, Now she is begging the journey to piece together what is left of her life. Motorcycles have always fascinated her and still continue to; she now owns a Yamaha Virago- the same bike that almost took her life and I also ride motorcycles.

I have a newfound respect for motorcycles and I realize that longevity is not guaranteed but I do not live in fear. We have a family saying- “There are two types of riders- those that have and those that will.” This has been only too true in my mother’s case and I know that if I continue to ride it will be true for me eventually too. However, I realize that I will die inevitably and that death is just the next step in life. I choose to live my life to the fullest and I do not let any fear get in the way of my own motorcycling. I believe that it is not the length of time that we are put on this earth that is most important but rather what we do with the time that is given to us. Neither I nor my mother allow ourselves to feel anxiety or fear because of our past experiences- we are fast and we are fearless.

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