Scene 10 - My Classmates / The Question

**********Scene 10 - My Classmates / The Question**************************************

Ryan is my best friend, and he was at the high school football game the night of the accident,

and we noticed the rescue ’helicopter pass overhead, but…

and the next day was the SAT test, and we see Lethan isn't there,
but its a Saturday, so who knows, right?

And after the testing we we go to the breezeway of the school -
It’s got benches
windows on both sides - you see out to the parking lot…
and we’re meeting there so we can go out to Denny’s Restaurant for coffee,
conversation,
cigarettes,

and I look out the window and I see my mom walking across the parking lot -

The hell was she doing here!?
Mom’s are not supposed part of the coffee and cigarettes…

but there’s something on her face - she looks worried -
What’s up mom?

She told them about the accident.

**********************************************************************

I’ll start by stating that the article commenting upon this scene has not been completed yet.  Instead, when thinking about this scene, I realized a question - this article presents how I came to the question, the question itself, and why I think it is important.

To begin, the character of Ryan - introduced in this scene - is an amalgamation of people - a representation of the community of friends that supported my recovery - Ryan’s characteristics are based on a specific person, but his experiences are taken from multiple interviews.  That said, it must be recognized that my family and I were blessed (see footnote) to have had such a strong group of friends that supported us in a time of need.  My group of high school student friends displayed what - in retrospect - seems to be enormous maturity by surrounding, supporting, and helping me to complete the 12th grade.  I am grateful to have been surrounded by such an upstanding group of friends and classmates.


That said, as I contemplated this gratitude, I realized that I don’t actually know how my friends reacted to learning about my accident or observing my recovery - I believe there must have been some reaction - (Fear?- Anger?- Confusion?- Sympathy?- Eh, shit happens…) - but I do not know what that reaction was.  So I pose the question:

How do teens react to watching a peer recover from brain injury?

With this question as a Google search, I look for articles or with this focus, but - as of yet - have found nothing.

Why not?

This seems like it could be a valuable question - to slightly modify it: How do teens react to interacting with a peer after a near-death, traumatic incident or disease?

I believe that study in this area could help teen/young adult survivors return to a community after an injury -  to look at what questions arise in young adults (16 - 20 years old) and how to provide appropriate information to such peer groups.  By better understanding what might frighten and/or discourage active participation in a recovery, a community can be better prepared to support the survivor.

In my mind, this seems like an area ripe for study - and some part of me believes that there must already be some research somewhere - but as of yet, my search engine has revealed nothing. 

I want to study this.

To begin, I have reached out to my friends from that time in my life (high school classmates) - to hear the story from their perspective (future article) and discover the teen communities.  These interviews, however, are just the beginning and I am interested in organizing a study on this topic - but I have no idea how to even begin organizing such a thing.  That said, I am in no rush - but if anyone has suggestions of how to begin and/or to find organizations to work with, please leave notes.

Also, if anyone happens to know any research on this topic, please let me know - I find it an interesting question and am eager for more information.


Thanks for reading, and please let me know any thoughts you about this question.

**(FOOTNOTE)**
Please note, by blessed I do not mean to imply any religious connotation, but I do mean we were spiritually loved by many people, and this provided a positive energy - see My Spiritual Beliefs.

Scene 9 - Refusing to Fly

*********Scene 9 - Refusing to Fly***************************************

Larry tells me about his grandmother,

And there is No Way to get my grandmother on board a plane -
If she had to go from…
from the state of California to her home in Tennessee,
and she could either fly or Walk,
She would go off and buy herself a good pair of hiking boots,
but when my accident happened, my dad was stationed in Germany,
and within a week she had flown across the ocean, and was by my bed,
eyes closed,
lip, praying.

*******************************************************************

For this entry, I start by highlighting Larry’s grandmother abandoning her refusal to fly - when brain injury occurred to her grandson, this woman was required to adjust how she interacts with the world in order to provide support. 

When discussing my early recovery, my father recalled, “We were told, with brain injury, everything changes.”  Brain injury is a life changing event - for the survivor as well as those close to the survivor.  This is not any sort of revelation - I’m sure this idea has been shared by countless physicians and rehabilitation therapists - but to gain an understanding of this statement, emphasis must be put on the word changing.  These changes occur for the survivor - learning to navigate the world with his or her new skill set - as well as for those who support the survivor - a caregiver must adjust one’s life to support the survivor coming to understand the new boundaries imposed by the brain injury.

After TBI, the social norms and rules that have been established must be altered to fit the new set of physical and cognitive circumstances.  Furthermore, as part of a recovery, socially abrasive behaviors and attitudes will often come out in a survivor - for the caregiver, helping the survivors to adjust these unacceptable behaviors will be difficult due to the brain’s recovery.  As stated on www.brainline.org, “Successful reintegration into the community and return to activities of choice is often dependent on the individual’s ability to modify maladaptive behaviors that may result form the injury” (Interventions for Behavioral Problems After Brain Injury).  For this reason, people providing support must be willing to change personal habits and behaviors to recognize and respond to maladaptive behaviors rising from a survivor’s injury.  The rules must change, and supporting people must be willing to change established norms in order to provide support.

In the scene above, we learn of Larry’s grandmother looking at her personal rule (not willing to fly) and adjusting that to provide support for her grandson through her presence.  This is a relatively clear example of rules adjusting to fit the circumstances of recovery, but the required plans and habits that must change after TBI can become much more convoluted - adjusting one’s social and/or work habits, changing long term plans to support the recovery, the altering of social roles within a family structure - after TBI, everything changes.

Scene 8-You will Live

Hey everyone,

Two and a half months ago - as I was preparing to make the next post - my computer died.

It's been a mission  scrambling about trying to get things together so I could get a new computer while living here in China, but it has been completed!  I have a beautiful new computer and am back to writing this blog!  Please read, comment, and share with your friends - I'm really excited about these writings and hope we can get a good conversation going.

Thanks for reading...and now...after two and a half months delay...

****************** Scene 8 - You will Live *******************************************

My father remembers that first night, staying at the hospital.

Sitting next to my son’s bed

I didn’t sleep.

Couldn’t sleep
in the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

And I knew You would live.

I didn’t know why, I didn’t know how,
but I knew,
That for once in your life you would listen to your mother.

************************************************

In times of stress, my father has the ability and tendency to find a space of quiet focus - expelling the distractions of the world and directing his energy primarily to the task at hand.  I have had the privilege of seeing my father attain this state at many times in my life - in situations ranging from difficulties at work to “Oh Shit, there’s a bat in the house!”  From my vantage, it seems my father finds this focus so he can direct his attention toward creating a strategy of how to deal with the conflict - he aims to discover what he can do.

Yet in the scene above, there is nothing he can do.

I imagine my father sitting in the hospital room - straight back, hands on thighs, eyes facing my bed but focused inward as he reaches for an inner quiet - a solemnity coats the scene as he some way in which to prepare - the only certainty being a lack of certainty.

And he comes to a truth - “You will live.”

If there is to be any sort of planning or preparation for his son’s recovery, this is a necessary truth for any action - if it is not true, there is relatively little planning that can be done - were death to occur, the path my father must follow will be presented to him - laying his son’s body and soul to rest while finding acceptance and peace within himself.  Please note, I do not intend to minimize the difficulties involved in a personal journey of acceptance after death, nor do I suggest that decisions are not an important part of the path - but from a pragmatic standpoint, in this situation, the only way my father can prepare for what might happen to his son is by establishing: “You will live.”  This truth, however, is immediately qualified, “I don’t know how…or why…” and in that qualification, he recognizes that he cannot presume to know what it means to “live”.

While working at The Crumley House, I came to recognize the privilege of my recovery, as - due to physical and cognitive limitations - many residents at the at the Crumley House will likely never attain the same level of social competence as I have found in my recovery.  Alternatively, in my travels since composing Who Am I, Again?, I have met numerous individuals who could - and do - traverse this world with few knowing about their brain injury and recovery.  Yet there is  a constant indisputable truth for all these survivors - they Live.  As with giving birth to life, the Return to life after brain injury is dressed with infinite variation and complication - to attempt a prediction of what life will look like after brain injury is to practice in folly.

While I doubt, in this scene above, that my father with through so thorough an analysis of his actions, it happened that by accepting a necessary truth - allowing for the many possible paths recovery may take - my father laid a groundwork for my recovery - a groundwork from which I could heal and flourish most in whatever path my recovery might take.

When researching and composing the storytelling, “Who Am I, Again?”, I remember interviewing my family about their experiences as part of my recovery - there were four of us sitting in the living room of my parent’s house - mother, father, sister, and I - arranged around a minidisc audio recorder.  When this moment was discussed, my father went through a physical change - slight, but noticeable - his focus drifted inward as he re-lived this memory.  When he spoke, I remember him displaying some slight discomfort - subtlety shifting in his seat - as he revealed this moment of vulnerability - I believe a vulnerability caused by the above discussed uncertainty.  Then, when he noticed a moment to escape this unease, he did so by attempting a joke poling fun at my rebellious teenage tendency of refusing parental authority - “I knew that…for once in your life, you would listen to your mother (and live).” (discussed in Scene 7)

At the interview, my mother, my sister, and I allowed him to escape from this moment of vulnerability by giving a slight laugh/groan in response to his joke - while the objective “humor” of this statement could be debated, it is representative of my father’s style of humor - it could even be said that my father was making a “dad joke”.

What I find interesting - when my father is returning to a moment of terrifying uncertainty, he finds solace by making a “dad joke”.  This retreat to pseudo-humor highlights another necessary truth that was present the night my dad sat by my bed - he is my father - that relationship will not change - and, as part of that relationship, my father can be expected to make the customary “dad jokes”.