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Dr. Emilie Godwin talks about the difference it can make when a family realizes the changes they are going through after a brain injury are not unusual.
When it comes to brain injury, it's difficult to make predictions about a person's recovery. This uncertainty, unfortunately, creates a lot of anxiety for families.
My life as the caregiver and mother of a brain injury survivor is similar to being on a challenging hike. You gather the proper gear and feel adequately prepared. You begin the hike with an overcomer’s attitude, looking forward to moving through the miles...
Brain injury has changed you. It has broken you, rebuilt you, strengthened you, and humbled you. Sometimes it does all of this in the span of one day. I don’t know that I have the words to make this journey easier for you, but I can offer this...
When brain injury comes into a family, it is an unwelcome guest, sitting at the table every single night. In time, you have to learn to accept the guest, and what the presence of it means. You can’t just pretend it isn’t there, and you can’t act like you know the totality of all that is involved.
It happens slowly, like that metaphorical frog you’ve heard about. Possessiveness and controlling behavior in TBI caregivers is something that creeps up on you, and I suspect it is common — not because people are trying to be annoying, but because they care so much and want to see that their loved one is treated well in every respect.
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to share with a group of caregivers and survivors at a rehab. From the moment they entered the gym, I sensed their exceptional spirits. This was not surprising, as I have discovered the brain injury community to be comprised of the finest people you will ever encounter.
As the shock began to fade, it felt like a curtain lifted, and I was cast in a play with all the characters, one by one revealing how they were affected. Amidst their grief, they wondered if I would ever laugh again, have date nights or travel.
We’ve all see that face. The well-meaning face of pity: the downturned brows and lips, the misty eyes. After Hugh’s TBI, I seldom met a friend or acquaintance who did not flash this expression at me every time we met. My daughters felt it, too. The funny thing is, we did not want pity. We’d had our fill of it in the ICU.
“I’m sorry your life got ruined,” a well-meaning friend sympathized one day. Her words landed like bricks. Wait, I thought to myself, was she right? Was my life really ruined? Was I the last to know of my own obvious fate?
I’ve kept in touch with a handful of healthcare professionals I had met in the early days of Taylor’s ordeal. These people not only taught me about the physical effects of brain injury and ways to participate in Taylor’s care, but they also taught me another invaluable lesson: the art of letting go.
The truth is, all family members are both a source of joy and a burden at one time or another. That’s what family life is: the art of weaving webs of joy between strands of pain is what creates the intricate fabric of family love. It’s not the people in our care who burden us; it’s our anger over circumstances...
Stephen Hawking, a world-renowned scientist who recently passed away, had a brilliant mind that was trapped inside a paralyzed body, and I could not stop thinking about how the opposite is often the case with traumatic brain injury.
People with brain injury may have other health problems and memory problems affect their ability to manage their health. Two experts share strategies for managing these scenarios.
How do we get to new places within ourselves? And how do we bring our survivors to the places that seem impossible? For the climber, it is not always about reaching the top. Sometimes, it is just about the climb.
When my husband suffered a catastrophic brain injury at age 29, I rarely appreciated being told that God had a plan for us. I certainly didn’t want to be coached to keep my eye on the prize or to search for those silver linings. I wanted to cry out in pain and to sit in it for a moment. I simply wanted it to be what it was: hard. And I wanted that to be OK with everyone else too.