Just by total chance, a week or so ago, I found myself talking to someone who had a stroke in 2007. Unless they’d mentioned it, I never would have noticed. They’d had four months of recovery, then they got back into their life. And while we didn’t talk that long about it, I got the impression that they hadn’t gotten any help with really understanding their situation after their stroke.
When they ran into their neurologist at the hospital, a few months later, they got a tip about how certain things they were doing were just not very helpful at all. Things like beating themselves up, because they weren’t doing a good job at something… things like getting angry and upset about stuff going wrong in ways that were directly related to their stroke… The neurologist gave them some insight into what was happening with them, and a better way to deal with it.
It was good that they chanced upon their neuro. It’s just too bad they didn’t get that insight sooner, so they could relieve some of their suffering — maybe even prevent it.
But they were amazed that I’d been able to find help with my own brain injury. They asked a number of questions about how I recovered, how I got myself back, how I retrained myself in certain ways. They seemed downright amazed, that my path for the last 8 years had even happened.
And it left me both happy and grateful that I found this path… and sad and frustrated that they hadn’t — that thousands upon thousands… maybe even millions upon millions of people hadn’t.
Here’s the thing that gets me about brain injury recovery — there is so much that’s known, there are so many tips and resources and a wealth of information available about what happens to the personality when the brain is injured. But there doesn’t seem to be any uniform or standard way of communicating that to people. And so, we suffer. We really, really suffer. And it’s not just the brain-injured folks who suffer — everyone around us, especially our loved ones and those who are a regular part of our lives, joins us on the big proverbial float in our Pain Parade.
It’s actually pretty bizarre, if you think about it. TBI happens 1.7 million times a year in this country, alone. Actually, according to the CDC,
In 2010, about 2.5 million emergency department (ED) visits, hospitalizations, or deaths were associated with TBI—either alone or in combination with other injuries—in the United States.
So, the 1.7 million number (which has been used for years, now) actually looks low. Add to that the numbers for stroke (nearly 800,000 Americans have a stroke each year, and 130,000 of them die from it), and other kinds of acquired brain injury (anoxic, for example, from losing oxygen to your brain), and you’ve got in the neighborhood of 3+ million Americans who have experienced a brain injury.
That’s just in this country. And that’s not counting all their family members, co-workers, community, and extended social connections.
Brain injury is a thing. It’s a big thing. And yet, somehow, we can’t figure out to tell people who’ve just had a brain injury, what’s happened to them, what they might experience as a result, and how they can take steps to recover?
This makes no sense.
And it makes me angry. Because a lot of people are suffering needlessly. Really, really needlessly. Just having the most basic information about brain injury helps so much. Finding out what happens during concussion or stroke — and then things to NOT DO (which medical professionals know about)… as well as WHAT TO DO — many of those things are simple and straightforward, and they all help a person make sense of their situation and chart a path forward.
Maybe it’s professional caution. Doctors don’t always know what to expect, and in any case, every brain injury is different, so every type of recovery is going to be a little different. Or maybe it’s lack of time. Or maybe it’s because doctors delegate education and training to rehab and therapy folks, who presumedly have a more extended working relationship with brain injury survivors. Maybe they want to limit their liability, in case their promises don’t come true.
Regardless of why that is, the fact remains, there’s a huge, gaping hole in the support of brain injury survivors — TBI, stroke, ABI, you name it — that seems only to be filled by people in the business of doing so. And from where I’m sitting, that’s a huge problem, because the profit motive becomes the most important thing. First and foremost, if you have to make money to survive, you’re going to focus on making money. And then you end up making a lot of choices that you wouldn’t necessary make (or have to make) otherwise.
So, the care you provide is necessarily compromised.
And the slippery slide begins… and continues.
Where does that leave the survivors? Or the people around them who struggle to understand what’s happening? Where does that leave the wider community who has lost the full participation of someone who is important to others, in large or small ways?
It leaves us nowhere. In no-mans-land. In limbo. Uncertain. Without a clue. And eventually, without hope.
A lot of lives are irreparably trashed, because of lack of support — even the most basic explanation of what’s happening… simply because someone couldn’t figure out how to explain a brain injury to the survivor, as well as to their immediate circle of family and friends.
How ironic, that advertisers can figure out how to explain and sell the most inane crap to just about anybody with a pulse, but nobody can figure out how to explain something as important as the logistics of brain injury to the people who desperately need to know.
What a waste. What an incredible waste.