APHASIA
IS A BITCH, MY RECOVERY FROM TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY….
The adventure
began with an unconventional trip crossing the Andes Mountains in Peru South
America on a November morning in 1972. The decisions that my "Peruvian
brother", Dick and I made to cross the mountains have changed my life
forever. What started out as a harmless and exciting trip, took away from me
the life that I once knew. I was young and carefree and open to experiencing
life. Dick and I were headed to the West coast of Peru for the weekend, to
check out the city of Mollendo. I was looking forward to seeing the girls in
their skimpy bathing suits, the beaches, and the beer. We were driving in an
old green beat up pick-up truck when the accident occurred.
My memory has
been adversely affected by my car accident that resulted in a traumatic brain
injury. I am continually seeking someone in the medical community knowledgeable
about traumatic brain injury, Aphasia, and specifically in the area of short
term memory loss. Probably one of the biggest surprises for me was how little
the medical community seems to know about the brain. My quest has been to find
someone to help me improve my short term memory, and by doing so, improving my
quality of life. I have discovered in my "quest"
that unless one's specialty is in rehabilitation or neurology, most physicians
are not knowledgeable enough about Aphasia that they would speak about its
complexities. This has turned out to be my passion.
Since I have
suffered from brain trauma resulting in a deficiency with my short term memory
I continue to seek out research being done in this area. (Since my accident in
1972, at the age of 21,"My Quest" began). Admittedly, the medical
community is more knowledgeable today about the brain than they were in 1972;
however, in the area of short term memory, not so much. I was hopeful that the
government might be doing more research involving brain injuries because of the
wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. What I have found in my "quest” is that the
word Aphasia, is a fairly general term, almost a catch all. Often when a
patient has any type of injury to the brain they are labeled 'Aphasic'.
I would define an
Aphasic as someone who has had some type of trauma to the brain, which affects
the person's speech. Other parts of the brain are often affected, and the
magnitude and severity are unique to the individual. It may include some type
of paralysis. It will affect the person's ability to communicate. This will
cause frustration often played out in some signs of violence. (An example of
this could be displayed by the patient throwing objects.) The person's
personality and even attitudes will be changed. The patient is often impatient,
having to relearn so many things. The patient who has suffered a traumatic
brain injury will be changed. He has lost his confidence, and even some self-respect
in many cases. He was possibly very independent at one time, but during his
recovery, he becomes dependent on others for almost everything. Regaining these
life learned skills will be cumbersome! The brain is a very complex organ,
which helps to explain, why no two head injuries are alike. The area of the
brain affected and the severity of the affected area is individual. Hence, the
title of this paper.
CHAPTER
ONE - DePERE WISCONSIN
The second
semester of my sophomore year at St. Norbert College located in DE Pere,
Wisconsin started like any other semester. However, it was just a short time
after the semester began and I had already lost interest in the classes that I
was taking. I was unclear as to what I wanted to study, and very unsure what I wanted to be
when I grew up. I was inquisitive, and looking!
I had a buddy, Mike
that lived in a different dorm than me. He was living with a couple of foreign
students, one from India and the other from Africa. He was living in a suite
and he was looking for another roommate to share this Cultural Experience.
Again, I was looking for something different, so I moved into their suite in
Victor McCormick Residence Hall. (Another influence that played a part in my
decision to go to Peru).
I worked
part-time for the college as a night watchman in one of the women's
dormitories. My job was to protect all the voluptuous women living there from
intruders or mishaps. It was in 'Dorm Three', and the "house
mother" was Krissy Karpinen. Krissey had previously graduated from St. Norbert's
and now was teaching in a nearby grammar school. She loved her new job and had
a million stories to share. When she was not teaching, she was in the dorm
trying to set an example for the underclassmen. She took her job seriously! She
was Very unique, and full of life. As for me, I liked Krissey, and I enjoyed
working "with" her.
One evening in
February 1972 as I sat at my desk, close to the front door protecting the women
living there from any harm, one of the residents came down to speak with me and
keep me company. Her name was Debbie White. I knew Debbie, although not as well
as I knew other participants in the "Peru group from 1971". Debbie
had recently returned from St. Norbert's Peru program. We spoke of our likes
and dislikes with Saint Norbert's. I also mentioned to Debbie that I was
considering joining one my best friend's, Don Svitak, and transferring to
Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Colorado. I told Debbie that I
wanted more out of my four year college experience than I felt St. Norbert's
could afford me. Debbie saw my discontentment and from there, the
"process" began.
Debbie questioned
me about considering going to Peru. My response to her was something like:
"Why the hell would I want to go to Peru"? I knew other students in
the 1971 Peru group better than I knew Debbie. However, unlike Debbie, they
questioned me briefly about Peru, but they let me get away with my response of
"Why the hell would I want to go to Peru". Debbie did not! It was
"funny" that Debbie was questioning me about going to Peru. It was
funny to me because I knew many of the people that were in her group to Peru. I
spoke with many of them when they returned. They All mentioned to me how
miserable Debbie was in Peru. Debbie also admitted to me that her experiences
in Peru were less than perfect. Debbie went on to explain about her many
regrets in regards to her Peruvian experience. She said, "Craig, if you
transfer to Colorado with your friend, it will not be all that different."
Debbie talked
continuously about what a wonderful experience Peru was and how she regretted
not taking advantage at all it had to offer. We spoke about Peru for hours. She
answered all my questions and convinced me that the Peru Program had my name
all over it! "Craig," she said, "I blew it. Don't make the same
mistake." Sooo, I went home after work and tried to sleep. I was unable to
sleep very well, because I could not stop thinking about the Peru program.
CHAPTER
TWO - TRAVELING ABROAD
The idea of
living abroad always intrigued me. A close friend of mine was attending The
University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana. He was involved in a study
abroad program that the University offered. A group of students from the
University of Notre Dame and a group of students from St. Mary's of Notre Dame
were involved in this program studying in France and living with French
families. This program was a two semester program.
There was also a well-known
program from Loyola University in Chicago. To be involved in this program
students transferred to Loyola, typically for a semester or a year, and joined
their study abroad program. The students involved in this program lived
together in dorms, took classes, and had the experience of living in the city
of Rome, Italy. The University offered various trips around Europe, or one
might organize their own trips to points of interest. I knew quite a few people
who had been involved in this program over the years, and I had heard nothing
but positive comments about this program.
The fact that the
St. Norbert College Peru Program offered the participants the incredible
opportunity to live with Peruvian families seemed to me to offer the experience
of a lifetime. Arrangements had been made with several members of the faculty
offering a variety of classes in the areas of Education, Sociology and
Political Science, all relevant with living in Peru.
CHAPTER
THREE - THE PROCESS
The next morning
after a relatively sleepless night, I took a shower and I began "the
process". I went in search for one, for any, of the professors, involved
with the Peru program. I spoke with Professor Calnin, who would be hosting the
Peru group in its third year of existence. I apologized that I was causing a
"fuss"! The extensive study program had already completed two of its
eight weeks. I tried to explain why I wanted to go to Peru, and what an asset
to the group that I thought that I could be. He listened to me very intently,
asking me questions. I surprised myself at how quickly and enthusiastic I had become at the thought
of this exciting new adventure. Professor Calnin told me that he would call
together the other professors involved with the program and consider my
request. I was beyond excited!
I called home and
spoke with my parents. My father's first question was, "How much is this
going to cost me?" A fair question - after all, there were six children to
care for, and money at home was tight. I carefully explained to my father that
this program was the same price as attending St. Norbert's. I went on to
explain that this also included a summer school session, which would put me
ahead academically, and fulfill my language requirement. I explained to Dad
that it was all good, and that I would not be asking him for any additional
money.
However, I still
had to wait to hear the response of the professors in charge. I was more than a
little concerned that I might be rejected, because I had never studied Spanish,
and the eight week preparation for the adventure was already two weeks in
progress. However, the program had been advertised as a "Living, Learning,
and Teaching Experience". I hoped and prayed!
The four
professors involved with the program had a meeting to discuss my request. They
decided that they would accept me into the program, qualifying that I would
have to work hard to catch up with the preparatory classes. I knew that I would
have to work hard, especially to learn Spanish, and I was psyched.
My
prayer was answered!
I realized how
lucky I was that they granted my request, and I was determined not to let my
professors down or to disappoint them in any way. So, the Honors Lounge in
Boyle Hall became like a new residence for me. The Honors Lounge was located in
Boyle Hall, one of the main original structures on campus. It somehow became the
study place for students and professors involved in the Peru Program. I studied
very hard! Other students in the program helped me with my Spanish, and camaraderie
with the Peru group began. We became "The Saint Norbert College Peru
Program 1972". I was excited! Our classes terminated on March 15th, giving
the students a few days at home. Our departure from Chicago's O'Hare
International Airport was to be at 12:15 p.m. on Sunday, March 19th.
Professor Calnin,
who taught both Spanish and German, was in charge of "The Saint Norbert
College Peru Program of 1972". His wife, a Professor of German, along with
their four sons and thirteen students, would make up "The Saint Norbert
College Peru Program of 1972". The students in the group were an eclectic
bunch: Charmaine was a Spanish major; Wolfgang, Val and Betty were Music
majors; Nancy was a French major; Kazuco, a Language major; Pat a Business
major; Maureen (Mini), Mary Kay (Mouse), and Kathy (B) were Education majors;
Steve, an English major; Robert, a Sociology major; and Chris and I were
Communications Arts majors. The level of Spanish fluency varied tremendously as
well. The common bond we shared was the desire for Adventure! Again, the program was advertised as "A Living,
Learning, Teaching Experience in Arequipa, Peru, S.A." We were all psyched!!
The decision to
go to Peru was not a difficult one for me to make. I had been involved in other
programs that were also related to working with people in difficult situations.
My senior year of high school I was involved in a program called CALM. Every
Thursday after school, a group of students made up of Brother Rice High School
men and Mother McAuley women from the adjoining High School were all bused into
the inner-city where we helped a group of students, tutoring them after school
with their reading.
During my senior
year of high school, over Christmas break, a small group consisting of about
ten students, and one 'brother' volunteered to partake in a mission to help
deliver food to the poor in a town in the Appalachian Mountains. In Lancaster,
Kentucky, we helped with the tedious job of mailing out newsletters to parishes
throughout the United States asking for help for these destitute people of
Appalachia. These people depended on these contributions for survival. We also
packed and delivered boxes of food that had been donated to these needy
families. It was difficult for me to believe that we had people living in this
type of poverty in the United States of America.
I had a group of
friends studying at The University of Illinois in Champaign/Urbana. I decided
to go down to Champaign for a day to say good-bye to my friends before leaving
for nine months to Peru, South America. Since completing the preparatory
program for Peru, every time I mentioned to people that I was going to Peru,
the question was always, Peru where? I found this to be very funny! However,
this became increasingly funny when I did learn from my friends in Champaign
that there was indeed a Peru, Illinois. It was a small town located in Central
Illinois.
On one of my last
nights in Chicago before departing for Peru, I drove up to the North side, to
the Evanston area. I visited my dear friend M. J. in the hospital, and said
good-bye! M. J. was dying from Cancer! It would be the last time that I would
see her!
The short time
that existed after completing our courses for Peru, and the few days we had
left before leaving for Peru flew by.
It might have had a little to do with the Energy and the Excitement!
CHAPTER FOUR
– THE ADVENTURE BEGINS
Well, the day came! On Sunday, the
19th of March, 1972, my parents drove me to Chicago's O'Hare Airport to meet
the Peru group. We boarded our Delta jet which flew us to Miami. We landed in
Miami around 4:00 pm. We waited nervously for our 6:00 pm departure on Pan American
Airways to Caracas, Venezuela. I believe that we all were both nervous and
excited.
NEXT STOP, OUR FIRST SPANISH
SPEAKING COUNTRY!
We arrived into
Caracas at about 9:00 pm. I remember hearing an announcement at the airport. I
was thinking, "OK, who is "the smart ass that was speaking
Spanish". Reality was sinking in!
Caracas was a
large cosmopolitan city. There was a lot to see and do; after all, Caracas was
the capital of Venezuela. We had studied about the cities that we would stop at
and visit on our way to Peru. There were many spots of interest in this amazing
city. I believe that we were overwhelmed after a couple of days in Caracas. We
decided that it would be exciting to take the cable car over the mountains, and
to visit The Caribbean Sea. We were excited both about the cable ride over the
mountains and the chance to swim in the Caribbean. It was a nice diversion from
Caracas, and a welcome change of pace. Most of us were from the Midwest, and we
would learn from this adventure the danger of the sun. The sun was much
stronger here than what we were used to. Some of us were lighter skinned than
others. Some of us spent much too much time in the sun. A couple of people in
the group were sick from their over exposure to the sun! Some of the group
really suffered from sunburn. After four nights in Venezuela, we continued the
journey.
Next stop Bogota,
Colombia. This was a large city also; however, it lacked the charm that I
enjoyed in Caracas. We were only in Bogota two days, which was probably enough.
Some of the group was still suffering from the Caribbean sun. We checked out
some museums and other spots of interest.
On to Quito,
Ecuador! I remember Quito as The bargain. After Bogota, and especially Caracas,
Quito was extremely inexpensive. As we continued our adventure heading further
South into South America, we saw more of what we were expecting. We were
expecting poor living conditions, with many people selling their wares in the
street, and many people begging for food, money, anything. This became more
apparent as we continued south.
CHAPTER FIVE
– MY "HOME" FOR THE NEXT NINE MONTHS
We arrived into
Lima, Peru on March the twenty-ninth, nineteen hundred seventy two at 11:00 am.
We were careful in gathering our luggage and other belongings. We boarded the
bus for a Long adventure to Arequipa. Most of the trip was uneventful, because
a good deal of the drive to Arequipa was in the dark. We departed from Lima
around 1:00 pm, next stop Arequipa. Half of the drive would be in the light and
we had the opportunity to check out the countryside of Peru. We had studied
about the arid mountain ranges of Peru. We also studied the poor demographics,
and the desolate people living in these small communities, high in the Andes,
truly isolated from the rest of the world. As the bus drove into Arequipa, we
were both Frightened and Excited! This was to be our home for the next nine
months. We knew that Arequipa was Peru's second largest city in 1972. We had
studied that there were basically three classes in Peru, and the largest class
was that of the poor,"Los Pobres". We witnessed many
"villages" on our way to Arequipa, all of them appearing to be very
poor. I do not believe that all the studying that we did before we left the
states could really prepare us for "this visual reality" of Arequipa.
No one said it, but I am sure that there were thoughts in the group, like, what
did I get myself into?
We arrived at the
house of the family Carceras. Mrs. Carceras (La Sentra Carceras) was in charge
of securing families with whom we would live during our nine months Peruvian
Experience. We were assigned to our families before leaving from the college.
The previous group helped with the matching up the students to the families.
The family with whom I was to live decided that they wanted more money, and
were dropped from the program. A family that hosted a member of the 1971 group
did not request a student this time, because a relative was to be coming to
live with them. Conditions had changed, and the family contacted Sra. Carceras
requesting another student. SOO, this ended up being the family with whom I
would live for the next nine months.
I still vividly
remember when a man that appeared to be in his sixties and his son that looked
around twenty came to "claim" me. The son, Dick, had long hair, and a
pair of light blue 'short' flares. I remember it being a very scary moment!
Here I am in Arequipa, Peru about to move in with a Peruvian family for nine
months. It was an especially frightful moment; here I was, after six weeks of
Spanish. Was I crazy or what?
Ricardo Yanez,
husband, father, and mentor would be my "father" for my next nine
months. I liked him immediately; he turned out to be kind, warm and loving. Tula
would be my "mother". She was kind, her job was to care for her
children and run the house. She would constantly be cleaning the house, doing
laundry, and preparing fresh meals. She was warm and loving also. My
"brother's" name was Ricardo, like his father's, however, he was called
Dick. He was a year younger than me. Maggie, my younger "sister" was eighteen.
They were both students at Saint Augustine University (La Universidad de San Augustine).
Last, but not least was Petty, she was my youngest (sister). She was seventeen,
in high school, a sweetie, but not driven by her studies. I cannot forget Nati,
she was our maid. Dunbar was the dog. I had a great family; I could not
have been placed with a better family!
Living with this
family would be a wonderful experience. They were all warm and loving. I
learned from the beginning that they were open-hearted and very expressive.
People kissed each other, often, all the time. In the beginning this was
awkward for me. However, I did learn to enjoy the physicality of the people. I
do not remember any men in my life, ever showing me signs of affection,
especially my father. Every time that you left or returned to the house, you
would seek out all the members in the house, and kiss each other on the cheek. The
men and women alike. People would come over to the house, friends of my
parents, brother, or sisters, and you always greet each other with a kiss on
the cheek, and when they departed, this source of affection was repeated.
Again, our group
was made up of thirteen students. Arequipa was the second largest city in Peru,
at that time. We each lived with a Peruvian family, and lived in different
areas of the city. I lived very close to Mary Kay, about a half a block away,
and Roberto, a block away. I lived the farthest away from Beccy (Betty), who lived
about thirty minutes away by taxi, forty minutes away by collectivo, of fifty
minutes by bus. A collectivo was an old car or mini bus that had a route, like
a bus, but was a little more comfortable than a bus. It cost a fraction more
than a bus. In terms of American money, I will the use the distance from my home
in Fecia to the downtown area, the Plaza de Armas. To take a taxi was about a
twenty minute ride, at the cost of about two American dollars; of course a lot
of this depended on the time of the day, which affected the amount of traffic.
A collectivo would take about thirty minutes, at the cost of about four cents,
and a bus ride took about forty five minutes, at the cost of less than a penny,
with student I.D. cards. God forbid that I would forget my student I.D. and
have to pay the full fare of about a penny and a half.
I lived in a
village called Fecia, very close to 'el cementerio', which was an important
reference when taking a taxi! Mary Kay, Roberto, and I all lived in Fecia.
Robert and I became fairly close during our Peruvian experience. Mary Kay and
Steve became an "item" while in Peru, and they spend most of their
time together. I did spend time with my Peruvian brother, Dick; however, our
interests were very different. He enjoyed hanging out with his younger friends
that were involved in a small musical group. Although Dick and I were only one
year apart, we did not share many things in common. We liked each other fine,
but just did not have a tremendous amount in common. They were very family
orientated, and oblivious to the world around them. I found my peers to be
immature, and at the same time I am laughing because I am not all that mature myself.
Certainly, a good amount of 'extra' things that we did cost money; they did not
have disposable income to afford these same things.
CHAPTER
SIX – THE ACCIDENT
However, on a
summer weekend in November, Dick and I made plans to go to the coast. I was
anxious to check out the beaches on the West coast of Peru. I also thought Dick
and I would have a chance to spend some time together. On Friday, The third of
November 1972, Dick and I began, our 'trip' to Mollendo. Mollendo was a beach
town on the other side of the mountains from Arequipa, on The Pacific Ocean. At
sunrise, or there bouts we began our trek. We had a glass of juice and some
rolls and we were on our way! We took a bus which took us outside the city, as
far as the city buses went to the West; it dropped us off at the foot of the
Andes. We then began hitch-hiking. We were picked up rather quickly! The driver
was very kind, and happened to be a police officer. This first ride took up
into The Andes Mountains, until we arrived at a split in the road. He was
headed north, so we exited his car.
There were a few
'stores' and a restaurant. We met someone at the restaurant that was traveling
to Mollendo. Dick mentioned to the gentleman that we also were going to
Mollendo to visit relatives, and that we were looking for a ride. The guy
offered us a ride. I remember that my "brother" entered the car
first, as his Spanish was better than mine, to converse with the driver. It was
a small truck, and I sat at the passenger front window.
My
Peruvian "brother", Dick and I were on "The Pan
Americana highway Sur" between Arequipa and the coast, just beyond the
village of "San Jose". We were involved in a two car head on
collision at 7:00am on Friday, November 3, 1972. Dick saw the oncoming car
crossover into our lane. I was reading the newspaper and did not see this. Upon
impact I was thrown from the car, and went immediately into a coma. Dick and
the driver saw the oncoming car, bracing themselves for the imminent impact.
The accident happened very quickly! Dick and the driver were also injured;
however, because they saw the upcoming accident, they were able to brace
themselves. Dick and the driver were both hurt, but their injuries were not
life threatening. One man was killed in the other car.
Dick and I were
taken to the Hospital General, by the Peruvian "State Patrol". Professor
Calnin did not have a phone, and I am certain that Dick was in a panic, as to
what action he should take. He decided to call "El Club
Internacional", where some of my friends were known to hang out. He called
the club and was fortunate to locate Steve Joyce, a member of my group. Dick
told Steve of the accident! Steve told Dick that he would take a taxi to Mr. Calnin's
home and meet him at the hospital.
CHAPTER
SEVEN – THE HOSPITAL "GENERAL" EXPERIENCE
Steve took a taxi to Mr. Calnin's home arriving at 1:00pm,
reporting that I had been involved in a serious car accident, and that I was
reported to be in critical condition. (The following detailed notes, I have
taken from the journal that Mr. Calnin kept during my stay in Hospital General).
Mr. Calnin immediately contacted our group doctor, Dr. Jesus A. G. Fernandez
and requested that he meet him at the hospital as soon as possible. Mr. Calnin
arrived at the at hospital at 1:30. I was unconscious, and my condition was
assessed as grave. Two doctors had already administered CPR. Dr. Fernandez
advised the doctors to immediately locate the well-known Neurosurgeon, Dr. Otto
Campano. (Dr. Campano had recently returned to Arequipa since graduating from
the prestigious, John Hopkins University, Baltimore, Maryland.) Mr. Calnin
accompanied by Dr. Fernandez drove across town and fortunately located Dr.
Campano at his residence. He agreed to proceed immediately to the hospital.
At 2:00 they arrived back at the hospital. After witnessing
the difficulty I was having breathing, it was decided that I should be
transferred from the fourth floor to the clinic on the first floor. (The
"clinic" here corresponded to our "intensive care unit") Remember,
that we are in Peru; things are different 'here'. At 2:00 Dr. Campano requested
permission from the floor surgeon to examine me; however, he cannot be located.
Finally at 2:50 the surgeon was located and signs permission. Preliminary
diagnosis indicated severe cerebral contusion resulting in a concussion,
fractured jaw and ribs. He decided to initiate the rather extensive process to
have patient released from the fourth floor, in order to have a private room
and constant care. At 3:55 documentation was completed and Drs. Fernandez and Campano
accompany stretcher to clinic. At 4:10 Medication is prescribed for reduction
of cerebral inflammation and swelling.
At 4:30, a registered nurse was needed. Mr. Calnin called
Sister Bernardus, an American R.N. in Arequipa that had been working in Peru
for the past eleven years. At 5:00 my condition deteriorated. Both doctors
decided to call for a medical consultation of six doctors to examine and
corroborate the medical evidence. At 5:30 Sister Bernardus arrived and found my
condition to be so alarming that she suggests that Mr. Calnin speak with Dr.
Fernandez to request an immediate consultation of all doctors involved (other
neurologists and surgeons, including those taking blood tests, etc.). He also
asked Dr. Fernandez to bring up the question as to the feasibility of having me
flown home in the attendance of a nurse or doctor. (It was decided that I was
too critical and that they were doubtful that I was capable of making the
journey back to the states). Mr. Calnin wanted to have a definite answer ready
when he planned to call my parents later on in the evening, just in case that
question should arise during the call.
At 6:30 Medical consultation concluded that I had
a severe cerebral concussion, and suggested a Tracheotomy as
soon as the radiography's are completed. At 7:00 all in attendance were alarmed
over the difficulty I am having breathing. Doctors take emergency measures! Mr.
Calnin then requested that one of the students call a priest to administer the
Last Rites, and Mr. Calnin departed for the Centro Telefonicos to
place a long distance phone call to my parents. It was very crowded and a delay
of one hour expected. Mr. Calnin then went to the residence of Dr. Pepper, to
use his phone. He finally got the call through at 9:00 pm. My mother was home
alone. (My father worked nights)! He attempted to tone down the degree of
seriousness, promising to call back the following day to speak with my father.
At 10:00 pm. Mr. Calnin returned to the hospital to find a
slight improvement. Dr. Campano and the nurse were changing the intravenous
feeding from the arm to the leg, this was done because the veins in my arms
were collapsing, and it was easier to secure a vein in my leg. At 11:00 Mr.
Calnin set up a schedule requiring two students to be in attendance, around the
clock, in order to purchase drugs as they were needed. (All medical
supplies are purchased here on a cash basis, as prescriptions are written out,
a member of the family or acquaintance must drive into the city to purchase
drugs from a pharmacy.) The end of a long frustrating day for all
involved!
Saturday, November fourth at 2:00 am. My lashing out had
subsided. (Several times I had broken the bonds, while having difficulty
breathing) Mr. Calnin drove home for the evening. At 5:00 am Mr. Calnin
returned to the hospital, to find no significant change. I was still in a coma!
At 9:00 am. Body fluid tests give reason for hope and encouragement. At 11:30 a.m.
Calnin called my parents again. My father informed Mr. Calnin that he has made
arrangements to fly to Arequipa. Mr. Calnin promised to call back at 6:00 pm.
At 12:20 he calls Dr. King at both St. Norbert's and his residence. Contact
could not be made, so he decided to call Mr. Phelan (the professor in charge of
the 1971 Peru group) and give him a brief account as to what has happened so
far. At 12:30 Guardia Civil (Civil Guard) arrived at the hospital and
requested interviews in order to reconstruct the gravity of the accident. Mr. Calnin
requested the legal services of one of the outstanding lawyers here in Arequipa,
Dr. Humbero Nunez Borja Jr. to find not only answers but the witnesses
themselves.
At 2:30 pm Sr. Ricardo Yanez (my Peruvian father) came to
the office of Nunez Borja, to make a statement about the accident. He stated
that his son Dick was sitting next to me when the accident occurred. According
to Sr. Yanez, his son Dick allegedley saw the oncoming car cross over into their
lane of traffic, I was reading a newspaper at the time, and therefore unaware
of what was about to happen.
At 6:00 pm Mr. Calnin called to my parents in Evergreen
Park, Illinois. My parents and Sister Barbara had tickets to arrive in Lima the
next morning at 8:00 am. They were delayed in Lima until 12:40 pm. My father
requested assistance in attempting to provide a more rapid connection to
Arequipa. Mr. Calnin called Doug Rose, the U.S. consular representative in
Arequipa. Doug Rose called his good acquaintance five times before he is able
to speak with his boss (comparable to our Chamber of Commerce) to give all
assistance possible.
At 9:00 pm Drs. Fernandez and Campano cancelled the planned
Tracheotomy due to the progress I had made.
Sunday, November
fifth at 1:30 am I was still traumatized. My breathing improved and Mr. Calnin
left the hospital. At 5:30 Mr. Calnin returned to the hospital. Kazuco
Ishimitzu, a fellow student, in view of her eagerness and abilities was
requested to assist Dr. Campano and his trained nurses for the first nights. It
was stated that I was showing somewhat more eye movement; however, I still
remained in a comatose state. At 7:00 am one of the empty rooms in the clinic
was made available for the arrival of my parents and sister. At 1:30 pm Dr. Santiago
Autunis, picked up Mr. Calnin to go to the airport to pick up my family. At
1:50 pm. the plane landed with my parents and sister. Mr. Doug Rose from the
U.N. Consul came to meet my family. At 2:00 pm the groups arrived at the
hospital, to find me in a stupor. At 8:00 pm Sister Marie Ray, professor of
nursing at Santa Marie University (she is a Registered Nurse from the U.S.)
came to attend to me during the night.
Monday, November sixth 9:00 am Mr. Calnin arrived at the
hospital and finds that I am breathing quite normally, and that I am laying on
my side for the first time. At 10:00 am Mr. Calnin calls Dr. King at the
College pertaining to handling legal aspects of the accident.
The driver of the car in which I was riding arrived to
inform the doctors exactly what happened and to offer any possible assistance.
He stated that Dick and I arrived in San Jose in a highway patrol car. He
offered Dick and I a ride. He was driving a company car at the time he picked
up Dick and I in San Jose. He stated that we had only traveled about two
kilometers when the accident occurred. He was traveling the speed limit.
Suddenly, the oncoming vehicle crossed over into his path causing him to
attempt a last second maneuver to the left. He stated that this quick move
saved the lives of all involved. He also stated that bottles of alcohol were
located by the police in the other car. He stated that the car he was driving
was fully insured. At 8:00pm. Mrs. Calnin arrives at hospital to spend the
night with me, along with a nurse in attendance.
Mrs. Calnin returns home at 7:00 am. She states that at
times my heart slowed down to 55 counts. Dr. Campano remained with me until
2:30 am and does not think that I will regain consciousness during the day. Dr.
Hugo Pepper performs oral surgery to rectify my fractured jaw. Mr. Calnin
returns to the hospital at 7:00 pm to find that the doctors have a slight
setback. They find swelling in my left leg where the intravenous feeding was
taking place. Doctors demand that no visitors be allowed. Only doctors and
nurses are allowed in the room.
On November the ninth I opened my eyes for a minute or
two. Babinski's signs on the right side. I did not recognize the people around
me. On November the 15th I recognized my Peruvian mother and smiled when the
nurse came close to me. I also "remember" hearing Beccy say,
"Peter, Bernice is coming, and you will have someone to play Bridge with”.
Since November the 19th, it was stated that I was recovering progressively and
started to recognize all my relatives and friends, but I was still unable to
speak (Boca’s Aphasia). On November the 20th I started to indicate with
movements from my head and eyes. On November the 23rd I spoke some single
words, and my speech and movements of my lips started to progress.
While a patient at The Hospital General I did have what
now is called "an out of body experience". I remember
"floating" over my body. I "saw" large white billowing
clouds 'tempting' me, no, 'Inviting' me, to leave. I resisted, and 'beamed'
back into my body. I can still visually remember being above my body, looking
down, and seeing my mother, Bernice, on one side of me, and Tula, my Peruvian
"mother" on the other side. Mom was wearing a pastel pant suit, and
touching me. Tula was on the opposite side of the bed wearing a black and white
long garb, and also touching me. (This type of dress is commonly worn in Peru
by Catholic woman during times of mourning.)
CHAPTER
EIGHT – THE JOURNEY HOME
On November the twenty sixth, I began my journey home. My
father, a registered nurse and I were flown from Arequipa to Lima. I needed
some attention and I was very fortunate that a nurse was in accompaniment. My
mother and sister flew to Lima in the General's jet. Yeah right, again we
are in Peru! The General's jet, turned out to be a joke, No big deal! The
'seats' made from netting, not comfortable at all! It appeared like it was used
more for transporting things, rather than people. However, Barbara insisted to
Mom to keep that a secret, “Mom, we flew in the General's jet that is all you
need to say."
In Lima we anxiously awaited for our flight back to the
United States. It was a sense of returning to a normalcy that we had once taken
for granted. A language and a system that we understood. Hospitals that were
clean and well stocked with medicines. No more taxi rides to the pharmacies to
purchase medicines! There would be no more 'opportunities' to open the
refrigerator in their hospital room, to the scurry of roaches. My family would
no longer return to the hospital after a dinner break, to find themselves
locked out.
CHAPTER
NINE – CHRIST HOSPITAL
An ambulance met
our flight in Chicago and transported us to Christ Hospital in Oak Lawn,
Illinois. This hospital was close to my home in Evergreen Park, and my doctor
had been advised as to my condition, and my arrival was expected. My doctor
immediately threw away the medicines that were sent with me from Peru. However,
overall the doctors were impressed with the medical care that I had received in
Peru. While a patient at Christ Hospital I remember feeling lost. A
"spaced out feeling". I was unable to speak! I was unable to
communicate. My right side had been paralyzed, and I had fractured some ribs.
It was a painful and frustrating experience!
I received fine
medical care during my stay at Christ Hospital, however, I was depressed. Dr. Bryar,
my Neurosurgeon, decided that I should be transferred to Rehabilitation
Institute of Chicago (RIC). He believed that the RIC would be beneficial for
me, for their fine reputation in rehabilitation, and also for my attitude and
recovery. At RIC, I would witness many patients in much worse condition than
myself. I was walking, although I needed to improve my strength. There were
many patients not walking at that time, nor ever going to walk again. The hope
was that this would improve my attitude, and give me a greater appreciation,
and expedite my recovery. I do not remember very much about my stay at Christ
Hospital!
CHAPTER
TEN – THE REHABILITATION INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO
I was then
transferred to The Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago (RIC). While a
patient there I went through extensive Speech, Occupational, and Physical
therapies. I remember my therapists’ names, Tracey was my Physical Therapist
and Anita Halper was my Speech Therapist. Due to my traumatic brain injury, I
basically had to relearn everything. I had No short term memory! When I started
to walk or rather wander around the hospital, I was frequently lost and had
great difficulty finding my room and bed. The nurses would frequently find me
sleeping in some one's bed, other than my own. Years later my mother told me
while I was a patient there, that signs were posted around for me, saying,
"Craig keep out"! I do remember on one occasion walking outside
the hospital in my hospital gown. It was December in Chicago. Was I crazy? Sort
of crazy! I did not understand what I was doing. I stepped about two steps
outside the hospital, I felt like I was in "The Twilight Zone". I was
unsure of what I was doing, but l felt the cold. Almost immediately a
hospital staffer saw me and escorted me back into the hospital.
My brother Briant
was studying to become a podiatrist, at the Chicago School of Podiatry downtown
Chicago. He would frequently come and have lunch with me, at least, that is the
story he tells. I only remember small instances as far as my stay there!
Dr. Gillete was
the rehabilitation specialist in charge of my care. She decided to let me go
home for a couple days over the Christmas Holidays. When I returned to RIC
after the break, she decided that I would be discharged, and sent me home to
"wake up" there.
Later, after my
discharge from RIC, I returned to the office of my Neurosurgeon, Dr. George
Bryar. He was very disappointed with The Rehabilitation Center because of my
early release. He felt that I should have been there for a longer period of
time, and that I could have still benefited from more therapies. He concluded
that as confused as I was, this should have justified a longer stay at RIC. He
mentioned that he had considered sending me to Craig Hospital in Denver
Colorado, which had a great reputation for Rehabilitation. They felt that I was
too confused to be by myself in Colorado! On or about December 26, 1972, I was
released to the care of my mother. God bless my mother! My mother had no
medical training, yet she was thrown into the position of the caregiver to a
twenty-one year old son. She accepted the responsibility of a son who could
barely take care of himself. I had a VERY poor short term memory; therefore, I
would ask my mother the SAME questions Over and Over. (She was on her way to
sainthood)
CHAPTER
ELEVEN – THANKS TOMMY
I felt most of my
old friends had given up on me! They had figured that the old Craig was gone!
I was
tremendously lucky that one of my best friends, Tom was studying Pre Med at The
University of Illinois in Champaign, Urbana, Illinois. Tom and I have been
friends since I was fourteen. He has always been a good person, caring,
understanding and smart. Since he was studying medicine he had a much better
understanding of what I needed and what could be done to help me. Fortunately,
he was home on his winter break. He would drag me out of the house and make me
exercise. It was winter in Chicago. It was COLD! I remember Tom taking me over
to the high school that we attended where he would make me exercise. He made me
walk around the halls and he encouraged me to climb the stairs. That was a
difficult task for me at that point in my recovery. He had me moving again! I
needed to be pushed, I had become lethargic, disengaged, and depressed.
CHAPTER
TWELVE - GOD BLESS BERNICE
After winter
break, it was Mom (Bernice) and I once again! Occasionally, mom would recruit a
couple of her friends to play Bridge. I loved the game! My mother and her
friends were Bridge ADDICTS! She would frequently enlist a couple of her
friends to get together and play Bridge. I was very fortunate that these
individuals were patient with me, because I was very repetitive. (Later, at a
visit with my Neurosurgeon, I remember him commenting that Bridge was a
terrific way of improving my short term memory).
Again, we are in
Chicago, we are in the middle of winter. It was a challenge to keep me busy,
and fight off the boredom, of staying at home "recovering". At least
for now, friends, seemed like a thing of the past! Once in a while mom would go
to a mall shopping. I would accompany her to the mall, and just walk around for
the exercise.
I had always been
a people person. I was lonely! I even looked up acquaintances, people that I
had not spoken with for years. I was desperate for human interaction; it was
encompassing getting to know this new person that had taken over my body. It
was a very difficult time for me.
When the weather
warmed up, I would walk around the neighborhood, to get some exercise, and to
get out of the house. I tried to read, and to keep busy, however, I had a very
short attention span, and consequently became bored rather quickly. My poor
mother!
I remember the
last visit with my neurosurgeon, before returning to College. He told me that I
have had a remarkable recovery, and that I really needed to understand and
accept that. I was a very fortunate individual! He reminded me that my recovery
up to this point had been quite rapid (it did not seem like that to me, at
all). He told me that I would continue to improve, but at a much more gradual
rate. He tried to warn me that things were not going to be the same and tried
to prepare me for the difficulties in front of me. He tried to prepare me for
the emotional journey ahead. He suggested that I only take a couple of courses,
to make sure that I could handle it, and not to set myself up for failure. We
were both concerned about my memory, and to see how well I would do taking
classes. I thanked him very much for his help and departed "ready" to
start my new life. No one could have prepared me for the emotional journey!! No
one!!
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN – RETURN TO MY "COMFORT" ZONE
Another step on
the journey back! "Welcome" back to St. Norbert College! I needed to
reflect back to my life here, before I departed for Peru, and before I was
involved in a life changing car accident. I was very comfortable here
"before"! I was President of my Sophomore Class! (This post made me a
part of the Student Government Association). I was on the College Board of Activities;
I was Chairman of the Service Committee! My sophomore year I was chairman of
The Freshman Class orientation program. As a result of being tremendously
involved, I knew many people, and I felt I had made many friends. That was all
before my "traumatic brain injury".
Life was
different for me now! People on campus had heard about my accident, and they
did not know how to approach me. I likewise was different and was NO longer the
self-assured person that I once was, or that I personified. I had a different
speech, from recovery from a head injury and relearning speech, a different
accent, relearning speech had taken on a Spanish accent, weird, but true. To
the average Joe, it appeared that I had taken on an British accent, which was
most confusing. I would receive comments, like Craig, you just returned from
Peru, not England. The reality was that when I was relearning speech, I was
thinking in Spanish, speaking with long o's and short a's, not the Queen's
English. And I even had a different body (I had lost about 40 pounds). I was a
different person! My memory was still very poor, which made interactions
difficult! I was continuously forgetting and repeating things, it was a very difficult
time for me. I would make plans with people that I knew and then I would
inadvertently forget. After doing this once or twice to people, they were
usually, over me. The biggest difference was that I was slow. I no longer had
that quick sense of humor, those quick comebacks. These things defined me
before a TBI!
My roommate that
I had my first year and a half, Tom, went abroad for a year as well. He went on
the Loyola trip to Rome! I was hoping that because Tom and I had both these
traveling experiences, which we would still have a lot in common. Tom and I
moved into a house our senior year, with four of our friends from the dorm. Up
to this point I was unsure as to how much I had changed from the Peru
experience, and how much I had changed because of a TBI. I now had to face the fact,
which I had changed from "the Peruvian Experience", but much more
profoundly because of the TBI.
When I returned
to St. Norbert's, many of the students with whom I had been close were no
longer there. Many had graduated, and there were many new students there. These
components only exasperated my return. It was no longer the comfortable place
for me that it had been. Chris White, a friend of mine, with whom I had just
returned with from Peru, was there to help me. She was very good to me, I am
sure that she helped me much more than she knew. I owe her much gratitude, for
her friendship and support. (Chris Thanks again!) She was one of the few people
with whom I was comfortable. She had the patience of a saint!
I tried to make
some sense as to why I was involved in such an horrendous experience. I decided
that I was to become a speech therapist, and to help others that were affected
by similar adverse consequences. I wanted to work with individuals that have
been traumatized by some sort of insult to the brain, via strokes, car
accidents, falls, or whatever. I spoke with my advisor! I was already a
Communication Arts major. St. Norbert College did not have a program in Speech
Therapy. They offered one class involving speech problems, which I would take.
I also worked out an independent study course with my advisor. I volunteered at
"The Curative Workshop", in Green Bay Wisconsin. I worked under the
guidance of the director; I was an assistant, helping people with their individual
speech problems. I also did some reading and research on the topic of Aphasia.
Having "recovered" from Aphasia, it was an area in which I was very
interested.
THE
NEW CHALLENGE
My escape from
dealing with people was to dive into my studies. I had a goal now, I wanted to
be a speech therapist, and help others which have had TBI's as well. My grades
up to this had been alright, but I knew that I would have to study hard to
raise my grade point average if I hoped to be accepted into a graduate program,
to become a Speech Pathologist. I studied hard; I spent a lot of time in the
library. After all I finally had a goal, which was very exciting.
However, I had a
very difficult time remembering the materials that I read and studied. Lectures
were especially difficult for me, because I believe I had what today would be
called an auditory short term memory loss. The pathways somewhere between my
inner ear and the brain were affected by my traumatic brain injury. I was
unable to retrieve much of the information that I heard. I believe that I did
hear it, but that it was not stored properly into my short term memory, and
therefore, never made it to my long term memory. Consequently, I needed to re-learn
everything, not an easy task for a person with a TBI.
Besides the many
doctors and therapists that worked with me and helped me to achieve this
recovery, there were two people that were especially important. These
individuals were my mother, Bernice and close friend Tom. Without their
Patience, Love, and support I do not believe I would have been able to
accomplish the recovery that I have. There were just too many times that I
wanted to give up. I was dealing with a tremendous amount of self-pity. Why me?
Why did this happen to me? Prevalent emotions, however not constructive for a
person recovering from head trauma. I had worked diligently to remain positive,
and to enjoy this daily 'experience'.
My
Mother/Bernice
I have always had
a special relationship with my mother. It is partially because I am the
youngest son. A girlfriend of mine in the seventh grade, Lorry, started calling
her mother by her first name. I thought that was unusual/special. I loved and
respected my mother. I decided to demonstrate this closeness by calling my
mother by her first name as well. It did not take very long for Mom to accept
that I called her Bernice. Mom started playing Bridge, when I was fourteen and
I took an interest in it as well. I still play Bridge with Mom, and I love the
game.
When Mr. Calnin
called my home from Peru to inform my parents of my car accident, my mother was
home alone and answered the phone. Mr. Calnin played down the seriousness and
wanted to speak with my father. My father worked nights, and he told Mom that
he would call back in the morning and speak with Dad.
My older brother
Briant made the flight reservations. He spoke with someone with "political
connections" that was to help out with the "situation". The
"situation" was that my mother did not have a passport, and it was
the weekend and all governmental offices were closed. My father told my mother
that she would not be unable to go because they could not afford it! My father
also claims that he was told that there was a good chance that I was not going
to make it and he did not want my mother to go through that trauma! My mother
and father flew to Miami, where my older sister Barbara was living. Barbara met
them at the airport. The "political connections" never came through!
It is still a mystery how my mother flew to Peru and back without a passport.
"My son is dying in Peru, and I am going"! A mother's love for her
son could not be denied!! I spoke to my sister, Barbara recently about this,
questioning how this was possible for Mom to travel internationally without a
passport. Barbara insists that she was dating a Spanish speaking man at that time,
or at least that weekend, she believes his name was Juan! He drove Barbara
to the airport, where he was able to assist. He spoke Spanish to the airline
agent boarding the flight. He explained to her the urgency that a mother had to
be allowed the right to fly to Peru to see her dying son. The rest is history!
Occasionally over
the years my accident in Peru came up in conversations. When Mom was present
during these conversations, she often times stated, "Craig is my miracle
son". I always took that as a sign of affection/emotion, never really
giving it much attention. I once mentioned that to my brother Briant, who is a
doctor. Briant agreed with Mom, and said to me "Craig you are a
miracle"! Hearing that from my brother somehow carried more meaning; it
was less emotional, and more factual!
LIVING
LIFE AFTER A TBI
What started out
as a carefree fun weekend, changed my life. I am a different person, now, than
I was before my TBI. However, I like the new me. I am a real person! It has
been a tremendous learning experience, recovering from a near death experience.
It helps one focus on the things that are really important. Regaining one's self-respect
was a challenge! Learning who your real friends are and appreciating friendship,
a strong reminder not to take friends for granted. Recognizing that going
through life, one may have many acquaintances, but really only a handful of
friends. I feel that occasionally people are judging me. I also feel that they
really do not and could not understand me. I am content with myself, AND,
people in glass houses, should not throw stones. None of us are perfect!
I am a kinder,
nicer, more caring person now than I was before my trauma. I am more
appreciative of life. I am definitely more sensitive! There is hardly a time
that I will not recognize a person with an obvious disability that I do not
think, “There but for the grace of God, go I". Do not get me wrong, I
still have those negative moments, but rarely, I am generally a positive person.
I know that I am supposed to be here for some reason, and I try to focus on the
positive. I know that people are often times judging me; I understand that is
their aura, not mine. Honestly, there are many unkind people out there; I have
learned to avoid them!
THE
SEARCH
I would like to
take a moment here, to inform everyone, how I truly have searched to improve my
life, by checking out many "possibilities' on improving my short term
memory, since a traumatic brain injury.
I would check in
with my Neurosurgeon, Dr. B periodically. I would call his office when in
Chicago on my 'annual' visit. He would typically meet with me, which astounded
my friends in the medical community that I have in Chicago. We would meet and I
would inquire into the possibility of new research in the area of short term
memory. I would call his office when I was visiting Chicago. He was always
cordial and would frequently agree to meet with me. Reflecting back, I believe
he met me because he had a real empathy for what I was going through.
When I returned
to College, I was having problems 'adjusting'. I sought out a psychologist that
I knew in the counseling department. He was a gentleman, with whom I had
respected and worked with, on The Freshman Orientation Program. Frank helped me
very much in my readjustment into the College community, where I was once very
comfortable. We also spoke about memory strategies!
In graduate
school, at The University of Illinois, I once again sought out help. I often
times went to the office of Dean of the department, he would certainly be able
to understand and help me with my memory problems! I went to his office several
times, before his secretary informed me that he really only met with doctoral
candidates and not with students such as myself, working on a Masters. I made
enough of a nuisance of myself, that he did finally see me. I was greatly
disappointed, it turned out that he was not the 'wizard', and he was unable to
grant me the wish that I was 'sure' that he had in his power.
He did refer me
to a professor in the department. This professor set up a program for me at the
clinic, where several graduate students worked with me on some memory
techniques. It was a helpful experience!
A friend of mine
in Champaign Urbana was a social worker; I vented my frustration to her, and
inquired for some type of guidance. Mary referred me to a woman with a MSW. She
helped me through some counseling, but once again, was unable to help me
improve my short term memory.
I would often
visit friends that I had from College, which lived in Minneapolis/St. Paul. The
University of Minnesota was well known for their research department. So, on my
visits I would stop by and check in with the professors with whom I had become
familiar in the psychology department. They were doing research in the area of
memory. The professors there were more than kind to me but they were unable to
give me 'the answer'.
In 1976 I moved
to Tampa Bay Florida. I tried to take some classes in Speech Pathology; again,
I was unable to handle the curriculum, because of memory deficiency. I was
befriended by a Dr. Guilford in the Speech and Hearing Department at U.S.F. who
taught the class on Aphasia. He understands what I have been through and has
remained my friend to this day. Again, I was disappointed with no answers to my
memory questions. He did have some students work with me on memory strategies,
which were helpful!
I then met Dr. F
in St. Petersburg who led me to believe that he could help with my memory. I
jumped through the many 'hoops' that he demanded of me, and then he informed
me, that he too was unable to help me. Another disappointment! I hope that He
enjoyed the game! I did not!
I now have a
Neurologist that I really trust and respect, a great man! He has helped me by
sending me to the correct places to receive help. A Speech Therapist in the
area worked with me on memory strategies. Most importantly, she demanded that I
get a daily planner and learn to write things down. This has been invaluable to
me! My Neurologist has been honest with me, and I am now able to admit to
myself, that The Answer is unknown, at least for now.
In September
2009, while visiting friends in the San Francisco area, I was reading the book
"The Brain That Changes Itself" written by Norman Doidge, M.D.
Michael Merzenich is mentioned in the book regarding research he had done in
the area of adult plasticity. This is an area in which I am extremely
interested. Coincidently, I continued to read and discovered that he is a
professor at the University of California at San Francisco. Unbelievable, I
thought, this must be a sign! I am going to meet the wizard, he does
exist! I visited the University and went to various departments looking for
Michael Merzenich. I discovered that his research was done in the late
eighties, and that he no longer sees patients. Do I need to say a word to
describe my disappointment?
MY APHASIA
Over the years I have spoken with many people in the medical
community about aphasia. It always amazed me how little they knew, or how
their opinions were very outdated. This was true unless their specialties were
dealing with patients with brain trauma. It is a new area of science,
receiving more attention now than in the past. This is because of the
wars in the East, and working with soldiers returning with head traumas.
Also a tremendous amount of research is now being done with the growing numbers
of baby boomers dealing with Alzheimer’s. Years ago, when a person had a
TBI, and/or Aphasic, little could be done and they quickly labeled, or
disregarded as far as making any accomplishments for society. They
were pretty much written off. One of my goals and reasons for ‘coming out’, as
a ‘recovered ‘Aphasic was to remind people that things have changed, and this
specific medical community has made tremendous scientific progress with
understanding the brain. With the help of various caring individuals I
UNDERSTAND how lucky I am to have had the recovery that I have had. This
list has included a few close true friends, a couple professors, Neurologists, several
speech therapists, and my Mother. It was only through their help, warmth
and understanding that I have progressed to where I am today. I am in
tremendous gratitude! Often times people made MY trauma, become their
pain, so it was therefore all about them! (People deal with pain
differently) And 40 years post trauma, I am still improving. It is
at a much slower rate than my initial recovery period; however, at times I surprise
myself and others with things that I remember. I have learned, to
ACCEPT the FACT that I have short term memory difficulties. Now that I have
accepted that reality, I am now able to find ways to improve things. I believe
that there are a number of different types of memory. The two most
significant being visual and auditory memory. Now I can take action, and the
action IS that I MUST write things down to compensate for my ‘auditory
memory losses. This must be done in an organized way; THE PLANNER has
been tremendously helpful. I could not get along without it!
For years I would write
things down, as I understood that was beneficial for me. BUT, for a long
time I would write things down, writing on small pieces of paper. I would
invariably lose the paper, and remain lost and frustrated. (My mother
often teased about ‘my little pieces of paper).
Then at the suggestion of
my current Neurologist, I sought the help from a Speech Therapist to help me
with strategies to help me with my memory. THE first thing she had me do
was to purchase a PLANNER. I cannot tell you what a difference that has
made in my life. A planner helps me ORGANIZE my life. I NO longer
had to count on ‘remembering’ things ‘on my own’. I now had a VERY
helpful ‘tool’. It is great to write down thoughts or ideas that I could
come back to look over again at a later date, rather than to just forget the
thought or idea.
Since I have had a TBI,
multitasking is much more difficult for me now than it was in the past. I
must concentrate more on things that I am doing, really pay attention. Even
little things that I once took for granted, now require REAL CONCENTRATION…
MEMORY STRATEGIES
Besides THE PLANNER, other memory strategies have helped me as well!
When I meet someone for the first time, I know that I must really pay
attention to remember their name. I try and make it a visual memory, knowing
that my auditory memory is poor. I try and find a similar ‘quality’ with
another person that I know, with the same name. Possible a hair color,
height, accent that reminds me of someone with the same name. Also I
immediately use their name, I repeat their name in the conversation, as often
as I can, without making it look foolish or feeling awkward.
Remembering names is truly one of the most difficult things, and one of the
most embarrassing, as well.
I know that my visual
memory is much better than my auditory. Knowing this I try to make my
memories into a picture. (If I am traveling, and I need to meet someone
back at a spot at a particular time. I intently looked around to find
some lasting impressions, street signs, or a unique structures, are examples of
this.) ORGANIZATION
AND CONSISTENCY are important in my life!
MEMORIES from Others
My sister Barbara was a flight attendant at the time of my
accident. She IS a character!! Well upon Barbara meeting my
Neurologist in Peru, he was obviously smitten! During her time in Peru
Dr. Campano and Barbara went out for dinner, drinks, and spent time
together. (Barbara insists she did it for the team.) Meaning that
she did for me, to make sure he took good care of me. She also admits
that he questioned her about the salaries of physicians in the U.S. He
was very interested in the types of salaries physicians were paid in the U.S.,
in contrast to what he was being paid in Peru. He wanted to work in the states
where he would much a much greater salary.
Barbara and my parents were staying in the hospital, in the room next to
mine. They had a refrigerator, in their room. Barb recalls the
shock/scare that she received each time she opened the door of the refrigerator,
only to see the scurry of bugs inside. She freaked out every time!
Barbara also remembers leaving the hospital in the evenings to go out
for dinner with my parents. They would return 8:00 pm or so, only to find
the hospital to be locked.
MY FINALE?
If and when The Answer is known, please contact
me!! THANKS!!
Sincerely, Craig Moyle’s
I would like to thank the MANY people for
their PRAYERS, LOVE, and SUPPORT (you know who you are), for bringing me back
from the dead! And to my Dear friend, M J, I knocked, but you did not let me
in! Thanks! M J, I can still see you riding around campus on your unicycle with
that huge infectious smile. YOU MAKE ME LAUGH! THANKS, again!
