Scene 12 - It's Not Your Time

**************Scene 12 - It's Not Your Time*************************************

For Tony,

Well like I said, I don’t actually remember the day of accident,
but I remember just AS the accident was happening -

Waking up - I’m in my car
Though the windshield I see the front of my car smashing into this
Roadside embankment,
while the back wheels of my car keep pushing forward, pushing the center of my car straight Up,
throwing Me straight up
though the roof of my car,
straight UP
into the air
Up a good two…three thousand kilometers -

and I remember getting into this line.

It’s a long line,
but I’m about halfway through, and its moving fast,
doesn’t take

And I remember at the front of the line is this Big man,
I mean, he’s strong, he’s-

He’s an angel.

And he looks to me, says, “It’s not your time yet.”

And I remember falling -
wind rushing past my face -
I look down I see the Earth -
The World getting larger - Larger
and I remember SLAMMING into my body.

When I woke, I had been in a coma for 9 months.

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

 As a storyteller, I love this scene - the powerful imagery - shock at being thrown through the roof of the car…wonder at arriving to Heaven’s waiting room…horrific grander when falling toward earth - each creating a dynamic picture.  Whenever I perform this scene, I revel in the frames as they pass through the movie reel of my mind.  Verbally painting these pictures for an audience is a pleasure and a privilege.

That said, when observing this experience from the frame of strictly rational inquiry, the “reality” of this scene could be called into question.  Please note, as of yet, no-one has actually called the truth of this scene into question, but the fantastic images really beg the question - did this really happen? 

To which I respond, does it matter?

The objective “reality” of Tony’s situation is irrelevant - we cannot refute his experience - it is not our experience.  This memory clearly has an effect on Tony’s character, therefore it must have some sort of reality, even if that reality is only in his mind.  In truth, the only “reality” any memory can have is in the mind - and the way it affects a person is dependent upon the story constructed around that memory.

That said, this story realizes a truth after brain injury - if you survive a serious injury, brain injury or otherwise, it is necessarily true that you have survived.  Be this the result of fate, destiny, biological luck, or something else, the result is the same - “It’s not your time…” - you are alive. 

In a previous entry (Scene 6: God’s Lap), we discussed one’s necessary decision after a traumatic incident:
to accept the accident/situation and work with the new reality
    or
to attempt to deny what happened and returned to life as it was. 

This scene has a more fatalistic tone - for Tony, “it’s not your time…”.  Whether he was fated to keep living or simply not to die is irrelevant - he has woken into a new existence and he has decisions to make.

Scene 11 - Forming a Community

****************Scene 11-Forming a Community***********************************

Well, the news was out -

And - now - remember, Bloomsburg is a small town,
And that means - in a small town -
once one person knows something, Everybody knows it…

and soon,
there began to appear,
at the hospital,
PEOPLE
showing Love, Support,
giving offers of Help to my parents.

And my parents were gratefully Accepting all these offers of help,
and on the phone with insurance companies,
and running back and forth between the hospital,
work,
my sister at school,

and trying to figure out What the Hell the Doctors are saying!

And I’m told about my mother being in this room,
filled with doctors throwing this conglomeration of technical terms,
and pushing papers -
some they should sign, some just read -
and the pedologist wants -
but the cardiologist needs -
the orthodontic history -
and your son might need to have Brain Surgery -

and my mother,
she finally stepped forward,
and she said,

“STOP!
Get into line!
One at a time, Please!

Okay, what do you need?”

And still more offers of help continued to arrive at the hospital
and my parents,
they were thankful for this love,
they were honored,
they were…

exhausted.

and they didn’t want to turn anyone Away, but they didn’t want to -
they couldn’t deal with All of the People All of the Time -

So they finally got this idea that maybe the could have…a prayer service.
some Event where they could bring the people together,
and anyone who wanted to show their support could come,
offer help,
and then go away.


They were given use of the hospital chapel for the event,
but didn’t make a big deal of it -
told a few close friends,
people at church,

the evening of the service came
and the chapel was filled.
Extra chairs were brought in - people were standing in the back.

And once everyone had come in, found a…place
No one really knew what to do.

My parents had decided to run this service in the Quaker style of worship,
that’s where everyone sits together in silence to pray, meditated, be with one another,
and if anyone was “Moved by the Light”, they could stand a share a thought,
prayer,
joke, whatever felt right -
and my parents thought this would be a good, nondenominational, all inclusive style of worship,
and they were right,
In theory,

Unfortunately, for the majority of the people present, the only thing they actually knew about Quakers was that Maybe it had something to do with Quaker Oats
and Nobody knew what to do.
So the service began…
Silent.

There was some shuffling of chairs, whispering in the back,

and no-one said a word for thirty-five minutes.

and my parents were just starting to think that maybe they had made a mistake,
that they should end this early and try something different another night,
when Susan,
a friend from elementary school,
suddenly felt Moved by the Light,
and she stood and shared a story…

and this Story, it hit something -
it - opened a floodgate because stories began to pour out of the people

Stories about laughing together,
working together,
classes, parties, dates,
stories about that time we all got naked and went streaking downtown…

So they told a few stories I had hoped my parents would never hear.

But people began to laugh,
to Smile,
and a transformation…from a service of sorrows to a celebration of Love,
Life,
of Community coming together.

And the next morning, I woke from my coma.

*****************************************************************************
This is a beautiful story - almost too beautiful - and, in a TV movie friendly environment, could easily be interpreted as “Lethan was loved back to life” (or some variation thereof).  I, however, will begin this entry by stating I do NOT agree with such an interpretation.

Maybe that’s too blunt - let me dissect what I mean.

The life situation surrounding the events of my accident was a blessing created by circumstance - things my family’s life were by no means perfect, but we did live a moderately comfortable, safe, and stable lifestyle.  Bloomsburg - my home town - is a rural college town in central Pennsylvania. (Please note, the following is a dramatically oversimplified representation of the cultures in Bloomsburg, but I feel it highlights what was beneficial in my recovery process)  In Bloomsburg, there exists a juxtaposition of cultures - aspects of the the old-time-small-town lifestyle meld with progressive-intellectual-artistic pursuits brought by the faculty and students at the university.  My family has long been active in many parts of this socially diverse community and thus, when my accident occurred, people from a variety of social groups flocked to me and my family.  An inspiring amount of goodwill and assistance was heaped upon us and it seemed that every corner of the community was praying/hoping for my recovery.

Were love quantifiable - there was indubitably an adequate amount to “bring me back to life”.  It is touching and moving to see how the love of the community surrounded me and to think that when the community came together, I awoke from my coma - this idea, however, has no objective reality.  If we suggest “love saved me”, how do we account for the countless number of people who did not have similar success after a traumatic incident?  Were they not loved enough?  Is there some sort of love/trauma ratio that must be reached to successfully save a person after an incident?

These questions should sound absurd - they are.

There is absolutely NO objective proof of love’s ability to save a life, and to suppose any subjective proof based upon one’s fate and/or karma seems narcissistic and arrogant.  In my experience, I was lucky and I survived.

That said, while there is no basis for the community playing a part in my immediate physical survival, the community did create a network that my family and I utilized throughout the recovery process.  This network provided comfort and assistance to my parents as they learned how to adjust their lives to my recovery - created a series of safe social outlets for my sister to save her from feeling that she was forgotten in the midst of the storm - and helped to teach an active group of caregivers who willing learned how to help me cope with and accept my new situation.  The community was not able to bring me to life after my coma, as the above scene seems to suggest - but they were able to provide a support network that kept me on my feet, kept my family sane, and created a good environment for my recovery.

I feel it is important to make this distinction because, while many of the physical aspects of recovery are determined largely by chance, a community that provides support for a recovery is created by those close to the survivor and can be found with - at most - only a little effort.  In this internet age, a survivor - or caregiver - can quickly find formal and informal social support groups from which one can begin to build a community.  These groups may come through reaching out to friends, community organizations, religious groups, TBI support networks…anywhere you can find people who will help uplift a survivor.  More commonly than not, people like to help other people, especially if these peoples share a social network.

Granted, in the situation with my family, we were fortunate to already have already formed a variety of social and professional relationships with groups that came to us offering support, but that needn’t be the case - if you are not socially embedded in your community, start embedding yourself.  To be specific, there are dozens of TBI support groups that can be found with a Google search, and finding these groups can provide an invaluable resource.  As expressed by TBI survivor Barbara Webster, ”What I hear regularly from support group members is that the most valuable benefit of a support group is finding a place where you feel comfortable and can talk with people who ‘get it,’ who truly understand your issues” (brainline.org).  The urge to retreat into solitude might arise after an injury, but doing this is not only potentially dangerous, it also unnecessarily limits the resources available for survivors.  Furthermore, by finding support groups, survivors are able to better know that their difficulties are not unique - by meeting other people, sharing, and hearing stories survivors and caregivers are able to better prepare for and anticipate the stages of recovery.

And one needn’t focus only on organized medical support groups - by becoming involved with community events and organizations, a person often discovers unexpected friendships - these friendships can help with simpler, non-trauma related tasks.  While friends formed in this manner might not provide the same empathy or share difficulties, they do provide a relief from the occasional intensity that comes up in recovery based support programs.

I am a strong believer that a social group and support network exists for anyone who is willing to reach out for it - it is up to the survivor to reach out for what is there.

There is no proof or likelihood that a community will perform spiritual miracles for an individual - if it happens for you, that’s great, but don’t count on it - miracles do happen, but you should never bet that they will.  That said, a community can console survivors and caregivers and is necessary in creating the base from which a successful recovery can grow.


To wrap up, I’m going to say that I recognize a response to this scene could have talked about several other subjects - the overwhelming plethora of actives involved in recovery, the excitement felt after a crisis, the importance of finding a balance when dealing with the post accident drama - and perhaps I’ll approach these questions at a later date, but I decided to discuss creating a community because I feel it is a necessary part of creating the foundation for a positive recovery.  Thanks for reading - please share and comment below.

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”.