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Victoria Tilney McDonough, BrainLine (page 2 of 3) Page 2 of 3
Sometimes she imagines that night. How could she not? "I picture myself and I think how terrified I must have been. But I can't dwell on it," she says. "Yes, I suffered a huge level of violence, but I also received an enormous amount of love and support, which helped fuel my recovery." Trisha, who had seven years of psychotherapy to deal with issues including her eating disorder, has never allowed herself to be called a victim, only a survivor. "I think it’s a mindset, an attitude, not just a matter of semantics. I had to take responsibility for my own healing."
It's up to me, now
After seven weeks in the acute care hospital and a long, painful, bumpy ambulance ride to Gaylord Hospital in Connecticut, Trisha's true mettle would be tested in the rehab setting. She arrived in a wheelchair, unable to walk or find balance. She couldn't speak clearly and she had permanently lost her sense of smell. She had headaches, double-vision, and her body and mind still felt like a heavy muddle of crossed signals. Every movement, even rolling over in bed, took enormous effort. "Of course, there were very frustrating and difficult times in rehab, but the 'art' of those rehab specialists is that they know when to push and when to pull back," she says. "The key is that I saw improvement — in everything — even though it seemed glacial at times. When you're down so low, you have great opportunity to go forward. There is a lesson in that for all of us — setting reasonable expectations. That way you can rebuild your confidence as you achieve goals, however small they might be, and from there keep pushing a little more each day — physically and cognitively. I've found that when I feel good about myself, I can do almost anything!"
Trisha also talks about something that happened organically. "I had never heard of the terms 'mindfulness' or 'present moment.' I had always been one of those driven people who push and push ahead, competing and striving for more and better," she says. "But during my recovery, it's like my body took over and it knew, intuitively, that I had to be present in the here and now. I couldn't indulge myself with 'what ifs' and 'whys.' I had to focus on what my mind and body were doing at each moment — finding the strength to walk between the parallel bars, tie my shoe, or stay centered enough to recall a word or idea."
Having her job back at Salomon Brothers when she left the independent living center at Gaylord in December 1989 also played a pivotal role in her recovery. "I look at Bob Woodruff back at ABC after his recovery and I realize how lucky both of us were to have our jobs," she says. "Having a sense of purpose helps rebuild your sense of self. The power of that is priceless."
Running
While at Gaylord, newly walking, her physical therapist, Nelson, who was also a part of the Achilles Track Club, asked her if she'd like to join a group of runners and walkers — individuals with varied disabilities including amputation, cancer, muscular sclerosis, stroke, traumatic brain injury, and visual impairment. They met in the parking lot where there was a quarter-mile loop. When she was almost at the end, struggling up a tiny but seemingly insurmountable hill, Nelson took her arm and they finished together. "I felt so good to be outside, to be moving again," she says. "I felt acutely aware of the fact that I was taking something back that had belonged to me and had been taken away."
When Trisha talks to groups about her experience, she tells them about this first run. "I think about that morning and was so proud of how far I had come. It gave me hope. I didn't look back at the fact that I used to be able to run five or 10 miles without even thinking about it. Instead, I realized that from hope emerges possibility."
In 1995, Trisha ran the New York Marathon in just under four-and-a-half hours. When she ran the last leg through Central Park, she knew she would finish. She had reclaimed her life, but she was not the old Trisha. Yes, she still has physical and cognitive issues that will probably remain forever, but she has somehow come to accept herself on a deeper level. Though she acknowledges that every hurdle she has cleared has involved a long and tough process, the blending of her successes and frailties has made her a more alive person.
Sharing her story
The first time she publically shared her story was at a rehab hospital in Boston. She was co-presenting with Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD, author and pioneer in the field of mind/body medicine. "Talking that day and witnessing such an incredible response from the patients, physicians, and staff in the audience, I realized that stories heal," she says. Trisha left her job at Salomon Brothers in 1998 to pursue her passion to help others by sharing her experience. "I continue to get inspired by the human spirit and how tragedy can often lead to positive change and to deeper human connection."
Back in the 1990s, people with TBI were told that there is a six-to-12–month window of recovery and then improvement plateaus. "But I see in myself that that is not true," she says. "And now with all this research on neuroplasticity — my new favorite word — well, who knows how far recovery can go?"
"I tell people with brain injury, 'You might be different, but different doesn't mean worse'," she says. "That can be a powerful realization when you are feeling close to defeat."
Hope and possibility
During the early months of her recovery, Trisha received a FedEx package. Inside the box was a medal from that November's New York City Marathon. The sender wrote that he hadn't run a marathon for six years but had been inspired to run it in her honor "...so that you could have this medal as you come closer to finishing your own marathon." Even now, when she holds the medal in her hands, she thinks of what she tries to share with others from her experiences: the simple power of hope and possibility.
Today, Trisha offers her message of hope and possibility by speaking to businesses, healthcare facilities, universities, high schools, brain injury associations, and women's centers across the country. Her website is www.centralparkjogger.com.
To comment or to share your story, contact Victoria Tilney McDonough at vmcdonough@weta.com.
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