Coping with Head Injuries

Life can be going ahead as normal with all ones hopes and plans for the future and then something happens! It may be a road traffic accident, a fall, or other injury or trauma to the head. Yet once it has occurred it can completely turn someone's life around, along with the lives of their family and friends. Below is a poem and personal account of one person's journey through an accident and the resulting head injury.

Bike Ride

By N. Jordan-Moss

I remember still how the engine roared
The sudden thrill how my spirits soared
My hand would twist the revs would climb
To turn my wrist a sound sublime
Pull in the clutch press down my toes
Engage the thrust away she goes
With a roar so strong it split the air
The engines song so very fair
So forth we go machine and I
She loves me so I hear her cry

Onto the road the rubber grips
"An easy load" her soft voice quips
I watch the clock - must heed the speed
I feel her rock and know her need
I see the sign - round white black slash
And hold my line to start the dash
I keep her fine and throttle hard
A subtle rhyme she's such a bard
The road slips past on through the town
Time to go fast and lean my body down

I mark my time four seconds flat
To the sixty line my sleek black cat
Now the roundabout to go
Low engine sound she purrs "too slow"
Dual carriageway the speed comes quick
This is her day and I'm feeling slick
The needle moves it's climbing fast
Her pleasure roars I feel the blast
And so we leap past Ryka's cafe
There they keep the bikers laugh

On left hand bend past roundabout
My right hand twists to get speed out
The wind so keen the tyres so slick
Only half seen - a little stick
No time to steer around the mark
No way to veer around the bark
The front wheel strikes the bike she bucks
And fear it spikes control - it sucks
And so from seat to air I'm thrown
From heaven's ride to hell I'm blown

So down on left knee first I hit
And I am wrest from where I sit
Through air I fly to arms of trees
And first I cry 'til consciousness leaves
Then in a heap my body falls
Blood starts weeping as my life sign stalls
And ones held dear maybe struck by grief
With death so near there's no relief
And yet a light shines strong for me
He sees my plight gives life to me

An ambulance and rescue team
Resusitance and blue light beam
To hospital a race for life
So near fatal such cause for strife
Epsom Guys Maudsley and Guys
Epsom again to Harrowlands - revives
From hospital to hospital I move
From funeral to Hopeful I improve
And memory so dull at first
Comes back to me in sudden burst

Recovery takes long is slow
Aggression breaks frustrations show
And months go past I'm home again
And I've "healed fast" overcoming pain
So I sit with naught to do
Feeling fit and frustrated too
Time drags on or so it seems
Enthusiasm lags behind my dreams
In London I the doctor sees
"I'm fit I'm fit" I tell him "please"

What may my future hold I do not know?
So I must be bold and have a go
I'll make a future for myself
Maybe a scholar and maybe wealth
I will not let despondency
Get its grip set I will be free
I will strive to live anew
I'll live a life that's bold and true
One thing I know - of this I'm sure -
Last place I'll go - a motorbike store.

Treatment

And that's how it was - a thrill that spilled me into hospital, for seven months! But I only remember three of them. I look at the photographs: Sitting in the wheelchair with my pelvic brace jutting proudly before me; Sitting again, this time without the brace, wearing my "Go for it!" T-shirt. And then standing next to my dad looking so pleased - my dad looking so proud of his son. It still brings a lump to my throat.

Four hospitals - Epsom, Guy's, Maudsley, and Harrowlands. Ah, Harrowlands, where I sat one day and heard the music-but oh such music as I'd never heard. And the music spoke to me. It said "I love you, You are my child. I am with you." And the music had a name. And I remembered Him.

I found out later what the term was: "Sub-eddemal Haematoma" or in layman's terms: "A blood-clot just under the surface layer of the brain." And they were all ready to operate to remove it-not a nice procedure, as the brain doesn't take too well to instruments being inserted into it. They had explained the risks to my father, of how I might well be severely brain-damaged, and how I might never recognise him again, or that I might not survive. He signed to allow them to go ahead with the "Essential" operation, knowing that he might never know me again.

And my sisters and friends and the local churches began to pray.

The day of the operation I was scanned again to determine the extent of the injury, and lo! The blood clot had gone! Hallelujah! I asked several doctors what they thought had gone on. They said something about "It happens sometimes." But why? I asked. "Oh," they replied, "it just happens."

I was not perfect in my recovery, but that was secondary to my life being saved! I still have trouble remembering things-names, appointments, schedules, shopping-lists, etc. etc. But then, hey - Nobody's perfect.

N. Jordan-Moss

Further Information

For further injuries concerning head injuries please contact:

Headway - The Brain Injury Association
4 King Edward Court
King Edward Street
Nottingham, NG1 1EW

Helpline: 0115 947 1917
Telephone: 0115 950 7825
Fax: 0115 958 4446
Website: www.headway.org.uk
Email: info@headway.org.uk