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.
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