Life After the Accident
Senior Project 2009
When I was born June 30th , 1991. I was a perfectly healthy baby girl. I reached all of my physical and mental milestones like any normal child and surpassed many. You could say I was a normal feisty kind of a girl.
Until I was eleven years old, I use to run track, play tetherball, double-dutch, ribbon dance, roller blade, ice skate and play basketball. I’m not bragging when I say that I was good at each and every one of these sports and hobbies. As a matter of fact, I qualified for track and field nationals with SCAA because I could run so fast. I even have the medals to prove it.
I use to love to doodle and draw all over my notebooks, go shopping with my friends and have sleepovers. I always had a lot of friends to hang out with. We use to have so much fun together; talking, laughing, and just doing the stuff kids do.
I use to babysit my little sister and help Miss Beverly out with the kids at her daycare center. I loved to help take care of kids. I also use to love to bake cornbread and cake all by myself. I know you’re probably wondering why any of this matters… some of it sounds so insignificant. Just the usual stuff anyone does in the everyday routine of childhood. It’s all the little things and activities we all take for granted.
Well, on December 26, 2002, everything that I was and was capable of doing was forever altered. In a split second, I went from being that normal feisty independent girl to becoming a totally different person. One who on the inside feels the same and even looks just like me, but is no longer recognizable as the person I once was. I don’t know exactly what happened…I probably never will. You see, I have no memory of the chain of events that led up to the “day my life changed forever.”
What I do know is that I was in a horrible car accident. The car I was riding in smashed into a telephone pole. According to the police report, I had to be taken from the car with the “jaws of life.” They couldn’t get the door of the car open because it was so badly damaged. At first, when they finally reached me, they thought I was dead. I was so severely injured that they did not know if I would make it.
I’m told that the ambulance took me to Harborview Medical Center where they gave me a tracheotomy to save my life. They put me on life support, inserted a feeding tube in my stomach and worked hard to keep me alive.
No one knew who I was because I wasn’t carrying any identification. I laid in a coma for several days listed as “Daisy Jane Doe”. My mom, friends and family were frantically searching for me. They were so scared and worried. My mom registered me as missing with the police and the Center for Missing and Exploited Children. But, no one knew where I was and what happened to me until 3 days later. They finally connected the dots on a Monday, after me being missing all weekend, when someone from Harborview called my mom and described me to her. At the time, I had cornrows in my hair and had my nose pierced. I looked older than eleven to the nurses but, the description matched. My mom was totally devastated. She was at my bedside from that moment on and has never left my side.
The doctors told her that I had a T.B.I (Traumatic Brian Injury) and that I would be a vegetable for the rest of my life. They suggested she let me go. They had nothing good to say, it was up to God. I was so badly injured I was in coma. They told my mom I would never wake up. My mom didn’t believe them and prayed for a miracle. The rest of my family didn’t believe it either and my aunts, uncles, and cousins made a chain of 1000 origami cranes for good luck that was placed in my hospital room.
I remember seeing white while I laid there. I could feel someone or something watching over me. I was in a coma for a total of three and a half months. I was in the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) at Harborview for 24 days, and then I spent 2 weeks at Children’s Hospital.
I was eventually transferred to a placed called Ashley House. Ashley House is a nursing home for children under the age of 18 with severe disabilities. It provides 24 hour intensive care for the children in a “home-like” atmosphere. It’s at Ashley House where I finally woke up. I remember being able to see people but not being able to speak. My body wouldn’t move. I thought I was paralyzed from head to toe. I had no body control at all. I was limp and all I could do was yawn, drool and tremble.
The nurses at Ashley House took good care of me. They had to use a hydraulic lift to move me. They were always kind and always talked to me. My hands and feet were in splints. The only way I could communicate was to follow people with my eyes and blink to indicate yes or no.
A few weeks after I woke up from my coma, I was transferred back to Children’s Hospital. I was admitted to the in-patient rehabilitation unit where I was required to be in an intensive rehabilitation program. They told my mom it would probably be best for her to put me in a nursing facility or home because she wouldn’t be able to care for me. Under the circumstances, I would need 24 hour care.
I had to re-learn how to do all of the things we take for granted and learn to do as a baby; many of which I would never be able to do the same way. And what’s worse…a lot of the things I loved to do so much would no longer be an option. I now had to re-learn how to go to the bathroom, swallow, eat, drink, talk and walk.
My mom knew that I was capable because she never gave up on me. She always believed I would survive and come home with her. She promised she would devote the next 10 years of her life to work with me and give me the best shot at life she could.
After I completed 8 weeks of physical, occupational, speech and language therapy the team at Children’s Hospital prepared me to transition home. In all, I spent 6 months in hospitals…it seemed like a year. I was discharged in May.
Even after all the therapy, I went home in a wheelchair wearing a bib, with a tube in my stomach, trach tube in my throat, wearing depends, constantly shaking, unable to speak and in constant pain. But…I was glad to be home and determined to move forward.
My mom, dad and little sister were my support. They took care of me with a little help from caregivers, of which I’ve had a steady stream (approximately 20 or more at different times). My mom taught me how to swallow and eat again. She would patiently spoon my favorite foods in my mouth just so I could taste them. Even though I would drool…she would wipe my face and do it over and over until one day I was able to swallow. I eventually was able to have the trach and stomach tubes removed.
When the doctors told her I would never walk again, she found therapies that would help me despite what they said, even though they were very expensive. She enrolled me at Little Bit Therapeutic Riding Center so I would build up my spine and torso by riding horses. This helped me to be able to sit up without falling over. I was also enrolled at Provail for physical and occupational therapy. I then spent 3 years at Swedish Hospital’s physical and speech therapy programs as well as speech therapy at the University of Washington. I have spent 4 years receiving counseling services at Odessa Brown Children’s Clinic learning coping skills and how to accept my new life. I took swimming lessons to tone up my muscles endurance and still enjoy being in the pool. It makes me feel free. Through perseverance and dedication I now have been walking without crutches for the past year. Some vegetable…huh? Through hard work, determination and the support of my mom I have made incredible progress. All of the things the doctors said I’d never do…I’m now doing.
Life is not the same though. I am still a feisty kind of girl…but my TBI has now made my life more dependent on others. There are no sleepovers or hanging out with friends and no sports. People aren’t always patient with me. If they are having a bad day, chances are so will I. I’m at their mercy. I need a lot of help and I need a lot of patience and understanding from those who are helping me.
You see- I can feed myself but, sometimes I have tremors and need some one to help me. I can use the bathroom- but I need assistance with my toileting. I can talk- but my voice is very loud and deep and it’s hard for me to modulate it. I can walk- but I need someone close to me in case I lose my balance. If I fall and hit my head it’s very dangerous for me. I can’t write or doodle because I shake so much, so someone has to scribe for me. I get frustrated easier because I can’t process information quickly which can lead to an outburst. And I repeat myself over and over because I have a short term memory problem.
I am dependent on other people to make my life manageable. I am thankful for all the progress I have made despite the challenges but, I would love to be independent. I wish others could see me as the girl I once was and be more understanding. My life is difficult because of my TBI. But, some people think I choose to be difficult. Oh, if they could only walk in my shoes for one day, then they’d understand.
My life experiences have been a burden for me and my family. They have made great sacrifices so I could get the best out of life. The younger sister I use to babysit now helps take care of me. I love her and my mom and dad and thank them for all they’ve done for me. They know my surviving was a miracle. My goal has been to live the most normal life I could since my accident. I’ve loved being able to go to school just like any other kid even though it has been a challenging experience. I’ll be graduating from high school in June and I promised myself that I would walk down the aisle to get my diploma at my graduation. You see…my determination and hard work will help me accomplish my dreams despite those who told me it would never happen. Next stop is college!
I’m still that feisty kind of girl- just with new challenges and a different reality. I am living life with a TBI and it’s a miracle. Who knows…I’m walking, maybe I’ll run again. I am walking, talking living proof that miracles happen.
