Coffee & Back to Back With One Large 8th Grade Boy

my cross country co-coach Kris

How does a disabled (traumatic brain injured) woman coach cross country?  She rides a 3-wheel recumbent bike, always.  This is a post about coaching, and some bad stuff that has happened because of my brain, or as my oldest brother would say, Lack thereof.  

On the last day of cross country practice, the team runs to Costco for a treat.  We arrive with 30 plus athletes and so many kids at one time is always a shock. We certainly don't want to be those coaches that show up with a bunch of unruly middle schoolers, so we stress good behavior... a lot.  We impress staff, as well as Costco shoppers!

The trip back to the school is not easy, because the kids are trying to juggle their pop, or ice cream things, and can't really run till they are done.  My co coach (the best guy ever,) never gets anything, but I always get a coffee frappe; frozen flavored coffee drink.  It's our last practice anyway, so we do a kind of run/walk shuffle thing most of the way back.

We have to cross an empty lot between two streets to get there, and one street is about 5 feet above the other.  On the way, the kids have to go up a trail, and on the return trip, they run down the path.

Remember, I have the frappe in hand on my cool trike, and I reach the path I have to ride down.  Mind you, I have coached cross country at KMS for many years, and we have taken the same route a bazillion times.  This time, I stopped at the top of the path, and considered putting the drink in my drink holder. Imagine that!  But, the holder sits at an angle and I didn't want to take the chance of the frappe bouncing out, on the trip down. I figured I could hold the cup, while gripping the handle bar to steer.

Consequently, down is exactly where I went, coffee flying!  Almost immediately my tire turned 45 degrees, and the trike flipped to its side.  It felt like slow motion, but eventually I landed hard on my left shoulder.  An x ray revealed I had separated it, but my movement or strength in certain areas did not point to rotater cuff problems.  But I was still in pain several months later so I had an MRI and finally, surgery.

That's my brain injury, to not really think things thru before execution... I can use that excuse, I earned it!

Not so fast - forward to spring track.  For the first 2 weeks, my arm was still in a sling (bike fall in cross country.) We have about 160 kids.  160, 7th and 8th grade boys and girls (can you feel my fear?) They were is lines of 6-8, spread across the football field the long way, and I had to get to the coach running the drills, on the far side.  As I hobbling out in front of the kids I told them not to run me over or knock me down.  But when I was almost to my destination, I turned away from the kids just as the drill changed to backwards running.

A good sized 8th grade boy, running backward at full speed, ran directly into me, and because I had just tuned, his back hit my back.  Needless to say, I went down (again) and I went down hard.  I'm lucky I was on a grass football field, because I did absolutely nothing to slow my fall.  One arm was tucked safely covering my middle, and the other arm, well, it's on my affected side and it's reactions are simply slow, and awkward.

So, no arms flew up to assist, and I caught the ground with the bridge of my nose, directly.  Well, once you've had a head injury, the likelihood of a blow to the head causing more damage, is always present.   I was stunned, my glasses dug into my face in various places, my face was bleeding, but I hadn't lost consciousness, so I figured I was OK.  The other coaches gathered around me, while one coach herded the kids away from me.

Coach Elliot escorted me to the bathroom in the school to clean up, and I drove myself (after we assessed the situation) to a medical facility for gluing, as opposed to stitching.

I didn't make it back to practice, but I did the next day, sporting purple eyes and a few small facial lacerations.  The bruises have all faded but now I'm wondering how many Worker's Comp claims I'm allowed before KMS asks me to go get hurt on my own.

State Track Meet

I watched the Idaho State Meet from the stands.  Maybe they had heard about the City Meet incident, and wanted me closer to the restrooms.

There were a lot of competitors so they ran trials, semi finals and finals.  Rachel ran just fast enough to qualify for the next round.  But we must have looked like horrible parents,  because each heat she ran, ended with her on the track, writhing in pain.

But just in time, after her first run, there appeared a chiropractor!  He was the father of another competitor, and he diagnosed some sciatica issue. Her trouble didn't start, she said, until she started to pull up, after the finish.  The start, and entire race, she was pain free. And, we were told she wasn't making matters worse, or doing further/long term damage, so we left the choice whether to continue, up to her.  Of course she chose to keep running, but after each run the chiropractor was able to adjust her back so that the pain was gone.

So we watched, and cringed, as she continued to run.  Because of the times she posted, in the trials and semifinals, she ended up in lane 1 in the 100 final.  Spectators were watching the center of the track, because the fastest runners (the best times leading up to the finals,) usually end up in lanes 4 and 5.
at the gun, she blasted to the lead, from lane one, and finished 1st!  When I tell people my daughter won the Idaho State 100 meter race, from lane one, most don't understand the relevance. No one is expecting a runner in the outside lanes to win so her win from lane one was incredible!

But, she wasn't done; she also won the 200, and ran the 3rd leg on the winning 4 x 100 relay team.  I think it was the 3rd leg, anyway, because I can see her speeding around the far corner.  But, wait, that memory could be from her running the 200.  Oh, well, I'm sure she'll let me know!

My TBI's Effect on My Children

When I think about the effect my TBI had on those around me, I get very sad, and because of that I try not to dwell on it.

It was many years ago, and my children were young when I sustained a TBI in a horrific car accident. My son, Harrison, was with me when I wrecked, and I am so thankful I sustained the head injury, and not him. He may not have hit his head, or lost consciousness, but shattering glass shredded his baby forehead.  It took more than 100 stitches to close the gaps. He was otherwise uninjured; we were very fortunate.

He was just turning 3, I think, maybe it was 2, but those are the things that escape me.  Memory Difficulty and TBI are close friends.  My daughter was in preschool, and it would be a year before she'd be in kindergarten, but I'm not sure of her exact age at the time either.

That morning, Harrison and I had driven his dad/my husband (at the time) to the airport in Southern California's Orange County, from our home in the Antelope Valley.  After returning to Lancaster, I spoke to my neighbor.  I guess I told her Harrison was cranky, and I was going to the school district office to turn in a job application, hoping Harrison would fall asleep.

I drove directly through a sign that said STOP, and was hit by an oncoming truck, doing about 45 miles per hour.  My last solid memory before it happened was actually hours before the accident.  I remember listening to Sally Jesse Rafael's talk show on the radio, on the ride from Orange County, back to Lancaster.  But then I have no memories, until after the accident.  My first of the after memories; I'm in a hospital, and my mother is across the room by a window, reading something. She says that was the 1st of two hospitals I spent time in.

I can't begin to know what baby Harrison went through.  His world was literally upended, as the truck collided with the front passenger quarter of my car.  The force turned my baby's car seat, which was in the back seat, 90 degrees, then our automobile left the ground, spun 90 degrees and landed on its side in the ditch. Windshields shattered, the shards finding my baby's soft face.

He heard the story retold umpteen times, but he chose to remember that he went to the hospital in an ambulance, but I got to ride in a helicopter! His memories are from the stories he's heard, and I'm not even sure he has any recall from the actual crash.  God, I hope not, is all I can say.

He had to be anesthetized to suture his head, but that was all he needed medically.   He knew what happened because he was there, but his sister didn't.  She was at Ms. Judy's preschool and I didn't arrive to pick up her and a friend. Ms Judy phoned Linda, the mother of my daughter's friend. She picked the girls up, but was certain something had happened.  I wasn't the kind to shirk pick up/drop off duties. Anyway, both my kids were to stay with Linda's family for the weekend. Their dad and I had planned a trip to Arizona.  Rachel stayed with Linda's family for sometime I believe, as our accident was dealt with.

I was in the hospital for 4 months, my kids visited me, and I recall spending Christmas eve in a conference room, of sorts, with my husbands' California family. I also remember my husband leaving my 4 year old daughter with me as he ran to McDonald's for her lunch.  I think that she was as surprised as I was when her dad left, saying he'd be back soon.  Maybe she sensed what kind of shape I was in, and was as surprised as I was when Gary left her with me.  Everything went well, though, and he was back soon.  Towards the end of my hospital stay, I came home on weekends, as a sort of trial.  I guess I passed, because I got to go home.

It's hard to say what are just normal childhood experiences, and what happened because of our shared trauma.  For sure, it wasn't normal that their mom didn't talk for some time, and was in the hospital for so long.  It wasn't normal for them, to see me in a wheelchair, with a loft strand cane, and finally walking unaided, but with a permanent limp. I had always been fairly active with them but now I could hardly knock over plastic bowling pins swinging my bad arm.  I feared dropping them, or falling with them in my arms, so I didn't hold them as much as I would have.  When I went home we had a nanny to care for them, and that was certainly not normal.

But as they say, kids are resilient.  Soon after I got home we moved from Southern California to Eugene, Oregon, and Rachel went to Kindergarten.  There was some separation anxiety in the beginning, and her teacher had to pry her from my arms.  Kindergarten Teacher A assured me that as soon as I was out of sight, the tears stopped.  The same scenario played out at the Easter Seals pool where she took swim lessons.  Perhaps each time she clung to me, her thoughts were that I'd left her like this once before, and her life was never the same. We even saw a psychologist, who observed Rachel, and spoke to her. After one session we were told she was acting appropriate, given her circumstance, and her clinginess would abate, eventually.  We got almost there too!  She could exit the car, and walk the length of two halls to her classroom, alone, as well as walk to the side of the pool without me.  But then, we moved again, and that set her back some.

This time we moved to Lynden, Washington, a very small town.  The separation anxiety returned, but the principal of her school was very understanding, and said he would came to the car personally, to extract her and get her to class.  I never did take him up on the offer, because she decided to try the bus. In  the beginning, I would walk her onto the bus, but the other kids would count the cars backed up on our country road as they waited for her to let me go.

Resilience, remember?  She eventually gained the strength to get on a school bus, alone.  And as she grew, became a very strong, independent individual.

My son was younger, and I hadn't abandoned him, so the aftermath may not have been he same. He had the scars from our accident, though, and his dad was concerned that other kids would speak not-so-nice about them.  We spoke to a doc, and he told us that Harrison was too young to consider cosmetic surgery, and that when he was old enough, it should be his decision.  I don't remember ever discussing it again.  He has turned out to be a very kind, and loving man.

And both my kids are very sensitive.  Harrison wears his heart on his sleeve, while Rachel is more private regarding her feelings, but they both love me, unconditionally, and for that I am thankful.

5th Avenue East

I came back to where I began life, literally.  

          After returning home to Montana, I lived for a while in the hospital I was born in.  It had been remade as fashionable art studios, and upscale condos.  My unit was the size of a shoe box.  Its model may have been the shoe box for a man’s logging boot, but none the less, a shoe box.  The ceilings were high, and the pipes exposed.  The space was long, following the outer edge of the vintage brick building, and only one room deep.  Six tall windows, with extra wide casings and neat double hung windows that reminded me of my childhood helped me feel the neighborhood.  

I spent my early years in this neighborhood, after being born in this building. My home was just 4 blocks down the same street, 5^th Avenue East. 

The ancient brick on the inside of the old hospital was bare, and a a child, down the street, our kitchen stove was tucked away in an alcove of the same, so I had always wanted to live with exposed brick.  I got the chance, but have since moved on, like I did as a child.