Happy (Re)birthday to Me

Hello, dear readers! Today is a day that always fills me with deep thoughts and gratitude. It’s the day I’ve been calling Miracle Day for years, which my husband has re-branded cutely into “Amanda Day.” Just over a week away from my actual birthday, I realize it could also be called my rebirth day.

Fourteen years ago, I was a passenger in a near-fatal car crash that left me with a traumatic brain injury, an uphill battle of relearning absolutely everything (walking, talking, eating, seeing, balancing…etc.)–and a huge sense of purpose. Three years ago, another horrific car crash (rear-ended!) left me with another head injury and a renewed sense of purpose and love.

I beg you to consider it more the literary nerd in me rather than total egomania–but part of what’s helped me piece together the puzzle of my life is realizing that many literary heroes undergo an epic quest and ultimate rebirth to become a new, leveled-up, wiser version of their still former selves–not a transformation into a different person, but a better version of themselves. These epic heroes have traded something dear to realize their destiny. There is usually an element of loss, but for a greater gain and a greater good. They don’t give up because things have changed; they move forward, realizing they are better equipped, even if it’s difficult, and even if they must get to know themselves anew.

I reflect on this often, blessed as I am to have made a “full recovery.” I put it in quotes, because a brain injury is permanent. However, the brain is FASCINATING in its ability to rebuild new connections, new workarounds for how things used to be. Just because an area of the brain was damaged does not necessarily mean that a function/skill is lost–the brain can often accommodate, especially with great rehab like I had at Marianjoy Rehabilitation Hospital, part of Northwestern Medicine (where I proudly work!). Now, 14 years after my major trauma, I certainly think/work differently before–but I don’t (usually) think of it as a bad thing. Things that are perhaps a bit slower for me now are certainly offset by the enormous perspective, compassion, and sense of purpose I gained. I feel like I see the world completely differently now; that my unquenchable sense of carpe diem has unlocked a thousand lifetimes for me, that my equally heartbreaking and heart-filling sense of empathy is a network of a thousand souls.

I was blessed to recover as I did, in a completeness that many are not lucky enough to reach–and let me tell you, that survivor’s guilt is intense. As much as I LOVE volunteering, donating, mentoring, giving back–I will never feel equal to the love and support God, my family, friends, and strangers showed me during my recovery. Recovery for me was an enormous hug with a soft, warm blanket of love that has only grown since those hard days.

November is an interesting month for me–and again, it’s the literary nerd in me that seeks themes–but I could not think of a better series of holidays to celebrate: Rebirth Day/Miracle Day/Amanda Day; Thanksgiving (SO MUCH to be thankful for); and my actual birthday. Thank you God, family, husband, friends, coworkers, and again, strangers–for making this life so beautiful and blessed.

Today is sometimes melancholic for me, reflecting on how lucky I have been to be saved twice on November 21 and wondering what it all means. More than anything, it is a day filled with gratitude. My husband and family make sure it is also a fun day for me. Tonight, Dave and I played a word game (my favorite!) and I had pizza (also my favorite!) and am soon to partake in some dark chocolate (another favorite–see a theme?). I’m writing on my new laptop I’m already obsessed with that Dave got me as an early present for Amanda Day/birthday/Christmas (who gets presents for the anniversary of their medical events?? This lucky wife! 🙂 ) My wonderful boss made sure I was able to work from home today so I wouldn’t have to be on the roads and could stay comfortable–and she gave me many hugs and such compassion, along with several other coworkers yesterday.

I am absolutely blessed with this life. Even the dark moments led to more beauty, more growth, a deeper existence–a rebirth. 🙂

Hope for Veterans Day: Bringing Back Normality and What We Can Do

Happy Veterans Day Weekend, everyone!
It seems an oxymoron to call it “happy,” but it is indeed a celebration, though of a somber sort, recognizing all those who have fought for us. Some have given the ultimate sacrifice of their lives, and all have given a sacrifice of some sort, visible or otherwise.
That’s why I was drawn to this article in The New Yorker, exploring the way so many soldiers are affected by P.T.S.D., and what we can do about it. When I sought to say something meaningful about this day (Remembrance Day, Poppy Day, etc. in other countries), I looked first to other stories. Perhaps it’s the writer in me, but when I seek to find meaning in events, in experiences, I look for the stories–to read, or to tell myself.

This article, published in 2008 but more relevant with each passing day, explores the conundrum of what happens when soldiers come back from war–but really, it’s relatable to anyone who has ever been through anything traumatic (so, everyone). I related to it on several fronts–having experienced trauma, myself, with my traumatic brain injury and thankfully being required to see a psychologist as part of my treatment plan. Not to put my experience on the same plane of heroism as a soldier’s, but I think it is a natural human tendency to dismiss your own feelings when you’re in a situation of huge stress/trauma–your instinct is just to get through it, overcome it, and “level up” into a greater version of yourself, having completed a huge act of fortitude, physically and emotionally.

Except–how can you “level up” emotionally when you had to focus on the physical getting-through of the event, not acknowledging (or even noticing) the huge emotional minefield around you? It doesn’t matter how “tough” anyone thinks s/he is (a common mentality, the article interviewee noted, in the armed forces)–a traumatic event needs to be unpacked. According to the article from nine years ago–meaning the number can only have risen–“According to a recent study by the Rand Corporation, nearly twenty per cent of Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans are suffering from P.T.S.D. or major depression. Almost half won’t seek treatment.”

The key in treatment, says the article, is dissociating environmental or situational stimuli with the traumatic event of the past. I love that medical science is disarming the blanket stigma against video games and tapping into their potential use outside of just entertainment. While I was lucky to experience some high-tech and even virtual reality devices as part of my therapy treatment at Marianjoy during my TBI recovery, what they have now is even more impressive.
So, speaking of “leveling up,” when I read that virtual reality video games are now starting to be used to treat P.T.S.D. with a high degree of success, I was thrilled. It seems like an “of course” idea, but it took a lot of work for them to get a military training platform, turned video game, turned treatment option, into clinics. Just like any dangerous physical venture, it’s important to have a trained guide (here, therapist/psychologist) lead you through the experience and be able to pull you out if it gets too hazardous.

While the whole story was touching and engaging, the line that made me cry was the last one–a soldier who had found immense relief from this virtual reality treatment:

“Most of the intrusive thoughts have gone away,” he said. “You never really get rid of P.T.S.D., but you learn to live with it. I had pictures of my team leader [who was like a brother, killed in front of me] that I couldn’t look at for three years. They’re up on my wall now.”

Wow.

It gives me hope for our veterans, whom I respect and feel we owe so much. If you have wondered, like me, what we can do to help our disabled and otherwise injured veterans, besides buying the cute little poppies from volunteers selling Tootsie Rolls, this CNN article gives a fantastic list of simple, but impactful, ways to help. I also encourage you to think of your own talents and how you can share them. “Talent” is, perhaps, a generous word to apply to my musical skills, but my singalong string band, the Pennies from Heaven, likes to lead carols at our local VA hospital every Christmas, bringing a sense of home, familiarity, normality, and warm memories to those who can’t be “Home for Christmas” (a heartbreakingly common song request from the veterans we play for). The biggest thing we notice from anywhere we play (hospitals, nursing homes, etc.) is that people appreciate the company–bringing the outside world in is a helpful way to help anyone acclimate to daily life. So if your talent is just being a good listener or a good storyteller–I promise you your gift of time and company will be appreciated, even if you can’t see it at first glance–it may mean the world to a veteran or other patient.

I’ll leave you with one more suggestion–to read this moving poem by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD, who was inspired to write it after presiding over the funeral of a fellow soldier and friend who had fallen in battle in 1915. It’s something I do every Veterans Day, to connect with this day of remembrance, which was established at the end of the very war that inspired this poem (hence the November 11th observation every year):