Tuesday, March 9, 2010

March is Brian Injury Awareness Month..

A CONCUSSION IS A BRAIN INJURY, GET THE FACTS!

Part One; MY STORY

December 20, 2000

I really do not have any memories of that day except for one. I was talking with one of the Nurses from the medical office I was working in. And I have no idea what we were talking about, but I do remember in great detail the sweater she had on that day. It was a gray sweater. With a beautiful, loose, crochet type pattern in it. Crazy, huh?

What I do know has been told to me over and over by The Handsome Husband, several times. OK so it was more like every 5 minutes for the last 9 and a half years.

I went to work like any normal day. I had three small girls at that time. 10, 6, and 2. I worked full time as a medical coder and compliance officer for a multi-physician, multi-specialty, practice. I do know that I loved my job. I had recently become a certified coder, received the promotion I was working toward and feeling like I was on the right track.

I was working allot of hours at this point and Handsome Husband was trying to make sure I was giving myself the breaks I needed and would come eat lunch with me everyday. We would either head home or go over to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. On this day we went to the hospital, a choice I would have never imagined in a million years could alter the course of my life is such a profound way.

It was a typical Wyoming winter day. Cold, snowy, and iced over sidewalks. Now to say I posses the skill and grace of an Olympic skater would be a bold face lie. I am a klutz. I carried my second child, #15, though the winter and delivered at the end of December. I was not allowed to walk outside by myself for the last 4 weeks, DUH! So we went to lunch. Let me explain for you the walk over to the hospital. Icy sidewalk, did not take the time to put my boots on, wore heels. The sidewalk was on a downward slope toward the hospital. At the bottom of the slope was a metal drainage grate. It to was iced over. I am a prideful woman and did not accept HH's arm for assistance. So I slipped. And slid. And came to an abrupt stop at the grate. And fell. To my knee's, onto the elbows and then the face plant. I was EMBARRASSED. I tried to get up and fell again. Upon getting to my feet I promptly wanted to get inside and make sure I was OK. I was pissed about my glasses and the tear in the knees of my skirt and pantyhose, the hose they were new and HH said I threw a huge fit. But we went to lunch anyway. He said I was really loud, but I said I was fine. By the time we finished lunch and went back to the office I had a wicked headache. He took me back to my desk and left. Here is where I lose track being able to know for sure what happened.

I asked another nurse at the clinic for Tylenol for my headache. She sent me over to the ER and called human resources to file an accident report. All I have to go by now is the ER report. Upon arrival I was triaged, and became very combative. I could not tell them who my husband was. They figured out I was an employee and went to get my supervisor. She got a hold of HH. I displayed all the classic symptoms of head trauma. The CT scanner at our hospital was down. So I was sent to the hospital the next town over, about 40 miles, to have one done there. According to HH in the ambulance I told them I needed my Mom and Dad. I gave them the address from my childhood home, and even the phone number. We later found out it was the correct phone number from over 25 years earlier. I remember waking up in a hallway, strapped to a gurney with bloody gauze taped in several places on my arms. I thought I had been in a car accident. HH had to keep telling me I was OK, I fell, and everything was going to be all right. About every 3 minutes I would go through this with him he said. CT scan was negative. I was discharged from the ER back over in my town with a moderate concussion. They gave me a prescription for Tylenol-3 for the headache and told me I could go back to work in the next day or two. I carried those discharge papers with me for the next 6 weeks, like a drug addict carries her fix kit. I was my proof that somthing had happened. I was not going crazy. Cause the next 6 weeks were a living hell.

2 comments:

Julie said...

I never realized how hard it must have been for you. You are my hero and I miss having you around. You have overcome so much to be who you are now, and I admire that in you. Thank you for giving me a bit of the rest of the story.

Jessica said...

I've always wondered about how you got your head injury.