A Conversation with Joan Ryan Simon & Schuster Page 2 of 2

Q: As Ryan is going through his recovery, you often reflect on your brother, Bobby. What was Bobby’s story and why did it resurface in your memory during Ryan’s ordeal?

Bobby was a year older than I. He was born with significant learning disabilities and some physical disabilities. He was mercilessly teased every day of the school year. I’m sure was autistic or had Asperger’s Syndrome but was never diagnosed. He had no social skills whatsoever. I don’t think he ever had a real friend. I used to cry at night for him. So with Ryan’s challenges, I lived in fear that Ryan would have a life like Bobby’s. It took me years to realized that Ryan was nothing like Bobby. But I think my fear fueled so much of my anxiety and even anger about Ryan’s behavior.

Q: What point in his recovery has Ryan now reached?

He’s doing great. He’ll always have some memory deficits – though he did before the accident, too – and slower processing. He now has a seizure disorder and has to take meds the rest of his life. He – and we – have struggled with the aftermath of the brain injury: emotional explosions, anger, bad judgment. He totaled our car, after which his rehab doctor told us he should never have been driving in the first place. He no longer has a driver’s license but is taking driving lessons from a special therapist to earn it back. Right now, after a tough first half of the year, he’s happier than I have ever seen him. He is set to go to Mitchell College in New London, CT. I had planned to get an apartment back there so I could be close by in case something happened. But he had such a successful summer session there that it’s clear he’s ready to strike out on his own.

Q: What’s the best advice you could give any parent going through a similar ordeal to the one you faced?

Don’t look ahead. Deal with this hour, then deal with the next hour. Eventually you can deal with one day, then one week. Ask for help. Accept help. Take care of yourself. Get sleep. Eat reasonably. Don’t be a martyr. Your child needs you healthy and clear-thinking. Believe in your child. The doctors don’t know your child. They don’t know how strong he is. It’s the doctor’s job to worry about worst-case scenarios. It’s your job to believe in your child and to expect best-case scenarios, to surround your child with love and if can muster it, even joy. Ignore the doctors who tell you they want to “prepare you’’ for the worst. Prepare? Like I should get a jump on grieving just in case there is something down the road to grieve about? Listen, if something bad happens, there will be plenty of time to grieve. And don’t believe the doctors who say your child will never (pick one) walk, hold a job, live independently, go to college, etc. They don’t know. They can’t know. Nod your head politely and ignore them.

Reprinted with permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc. www.simonandschuster.com. For more information on Joan Ryan, go to www.joanryanink.com.

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