Scientifically and statistically, I should be dead!! My first week teaching math in a new Chicago school, a student grabbed me by my ankles, flipped me over my head and into a brick wall. I hit my neck, fracturing my skull, breaking my nose, and injuring my neck. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel any pain, didn’t get any swelling, and stood up, lined my class up and went on about my day. What I didn’t realize then was that I had sustained a severe traumatic brain injury and my life would change dramatically and permanently!!

Based on my age (57), appearance, and athletic abilities, nobody took me seriously. I looked fine. My primary physician diagnosed me as having muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders. My daughter Brianna came to visit from southern Illinois eight months later and noticed that I wasn’t talking much, slurring my speech, walking like a drunk, using improper speech cadences, and saying stuff like, “Hand me the fridge to comb my hair tomorrow.” She wanted a second opinion, so we got an independent MRI and contacted the family neurosurgeon at Northwestern.

I was initially referred to a neurologist and ENT and after many scans, tests, and running on a treadmill for the cardiologist, I was approved for brain and nose surgery. As life would have it, I was approved for a special ICU surgery program called The Malnati Brain Institute, where the two top surgeons in the country jointly performed my three surgeries simultaneously. They drained my excess brain fluid that was leaking out my right nostril for a year unbeknownst to me. They used a diamond drill to repair and seal my broken skull and repaired my deviated septum and broken nose. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t remember much due to short-term memory loss so I can’t include details. From what I’m told I slept, ate red jello, and fussed at the nurses, family, and surgeons who came to help me. I don’t remember making a nurse cry, kicking the team of eight surgeons studying my unique case out of the room, kicking my family out of the room when someone suggested giving me Tylenol since I’m allergic to morphine derivatives, and calling the ER from my hospital suite. My brain was out to lunch.

Eventually, I had medical physical therapy, learned to walk, talk, and live better. Between the neuropsychiatrist who didn’t prove that I was a crazy old lady, to the speech therapist who proved that I didn’t need to learn to talk (I just couldn’t lift my tongue). I am slowly, slowly, blessedly learning to accept my “new normal” in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic. Understand my “new limitations” and accept all the love from my sorority sisters bringing me essential supplies, food, gifts, and cards. I now accept the love, and bringing of food from my cousin’s wife. I now accept the love, gifts, and dinners from my church friends and neighbors. I now accept the love and support from my sister, niece, brothers, best friends from college and high school, and strangers who prayed for me and visited me. I now feel the love of my husband, daughters, and “favorite son.” It’s a hard and painful daily struggle that I now accept this traumatic brain injury as my new life.

In conclusion, I would be remiss to not acknowledge that Dr. G., a prominent ophthalmologist, diagnosed my eyes with Aphasia from the TBI and saved me from going “BLIND.” That’s my story, pass it on!!!