HOPE BEYOND TRAUMA. Cynthia Smith
and the loss of my future dreams and ambitions. Let go of what was and what could have been.
I have learned not to dwell too long on the “shoulds,” since they only rob me of my energy and fuel my bitterness. They also take away whatever good there is in today.
Who Is This Girl?
It’s in the struggle itself that you define yourself.
–Pat Buchanan
Since she woke from her deep coma, Tanya had to relearn every body function. She needed to be reintroduced to walking, dressing herself, brushing her teeth and combing her hair. There she was … with a toddler’s mind in a teenager’s body. I witnessed this familiar stranger struggling with everyday tasks that Tanya had mastered since she was three years of age.
It was a devastating view, and yet it held a dim hope of recovery. It was a time where relief, grief and exhaustion were woven in confusion and yielded an array of contrasting feelings. This was our new reality.
I needed to let go of the person we knew and welcome into our life this stranger who seemed to have come to replace her. While I was still in shock for the loss of my daughter, I was struggling to learn how to care for this “familiar stranger.” Who is this girl? I kept asking myself. Where’s Tanya? Where did she go? Will she ever be back? Who was this girl now wearing my daughter’s clothes, looking so much like her and yet being so different from the child I had raised, loved and argued with? The girl in front of me was not the same person who had climbed into the back of the pickup truck that fateful day.
I had to let go of the memory of who she once was and meet with curiosity this new familiar stranger. It was not an easy task, but I eventually managed to come to terms with our new reality. I felt very depressed and hopeless but still wholeheartedly continued my daily routine, dancing on a razor’s edge of hope and faith that something might happen out of the blue.
Walking down the now very familiar hallways of Rio Vista one morning, I neared Tanya’s room and turned the corner. I stopped to catch a breath and to reset my spirits to high, forcing a smile on my face and preparing for my daily routine, ready to introduce myself, our family, our pets, our address, our house, for the 49th or maybe 51st time in a row.
As I stepped into the room where Tanya was sitting in her wheelchair, she turned around, looked at me and very happily shouted, “MOM!”
I was dumbfounded for a moment. Was she REALLY calling me Mom?
Astounded, ecstatic, I wanted to jump up and down and scream at the top of my lungs, “Tanya remembers ME!” The weight of the world immediately dropped off my shoulders. I now believed there was no obstacle or mountain I could not climb. I had been suddenly beamed up to cloud “gazillion!” The days that followed brought new hope and energy.
One nightmare had ceased … but I was still missing my boisterous daughter.
Tanya had been paralyzed on her left side so her balance was off. Her facial expressions had been rather motionless, only exhibiting the sort of fake smile on command as she had that first time in the trauma unit. Now that some of her memories were coming back, the focus was on getting her body moving again. Every day we walked down the hallways with her physical therapist and chatted about whatever was on our minds.
One memorable morning, I was walking and chatting without paying much attention to where I was going and unexpectedly ran smack dab into the corridor wall. I was completely stunned for a moment.
Tanya busted out laughing! While I was momentarily shocked, I realized that this was the very first time Tanya laughed spontaneously since the accident. The physical therapist and I busted out laughing as well. We laughed so hard, we had to reach for the bench in the lounge and sit down just to catch our breath. The sides of my rib cage hurt as we continued laughing for a time that seemed never to end.
This was such a beautiful and precious moment of togetherness, a healing moment in which I reconnected with my estranged daughter. I remember that episode as a very bright beam of light through the darkest of storms.
As a caregiver … I learned to
Actively seek the light among the clouds. Don’t miss a single opportunity to laugh, no matter how trivial.
Laugh, and know that laughter is the best medicine.
Emergence of the Invisible Trauma
Every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance next time.
–Og Mandino
As Tanya’s rehabilitation progressed, her doctor decided it was time to take her off the Amphotericin, the potent medication that fought her yeast infection. I quickly concluded that the yeast infection must be gone. Another success, YES!! We’re on a roll!
Hold on … the doctor stated that he didn’t know that the yeast infection was gone, but to continue with this medication would threaten Tanya’s life once again. It was a calculated risk: to keep her on it could kill her, and if we took her off, she could die if the yeast infection was still present. The doctor’s gut told him it was time to take her off the drug. We would just have to wait and see if this was the right move. Even though I was scared that Tanya could die, I understood the doctor’s reasoning and agreed with his decision.
As it turned out, the doctor was right to follow his instincts. The yeast infection was in fact gone, and Tanya’s rehabilitation continued on course. Thank God the doctor had the courage to follow his gut instincts!
Richard finally received his long-awaited promotion. We held the ceremony at Rio Vista so Tanya could pin the stripes on her Dad’s uniform. It was a great day of celebration. Family, friends, coworkers and hospital staff joined in with a big cake and punch. Richard was beaming and Tanya looked so proud as she pinned the stripes on her Dad’s uniform.
Our evening routine included a goodnight call to Tanya. Out of the blue, during one of these calls, she asked me if she played the guitar. I was caught off guard and amazed, as we had not mentioned her guitar since the accident.
I enthusiastically replied, “Yes, you do!” Tanya asked me to bring her guitar the next day. I was in for a pleasant surprise, as she placed the guitar on her lap and quickly started playing as if nothing had ever happened. Her playing skills had been totally unaffected by the accident. It felt like a miracle, another beam of hope in those dark days.
I learned much later that our body often retains “muscle memory” much longer than other memories stored in our brain. This may explain why Tanya still remembered how to play guitar. Early on in the rehab process, she had gotten into the pool and started swimming proficiently with no coaching or new training.
As we conquered each step on the road to a new mobility and dexterity, it became more and more apparent that our daughter’s social skills had also been wiped out by the accident.
The executive function of her frontal lobes was severely damaged, and now that she could walk and talk with some confidence and appear normal, her lack of social skills became increasingly noticeable. Her invisible injuries were becoming more prominent than the physical ones, and far more difficult to deal with.
It was much easier for me to accept Tanya than it was for family members and friends, because I had attended all of her therapy sessions and educated myself about brain injury. I was more informed about what could be expected from a child in this condition, as I witnessed her daily progress and learned from the professionals.
It was more difficult for others to relate to her. This lead to enormous frustrations and created stress in her relationships with people she knew before the accident. When friends and family members visited her, unknowingly, they put a lot of pressure on her