. . . . I was unprepared to face my once vibrant son and the vast unknown—not only in those early days but also when Matt came home to live with us. He was utterly dependent on my husband, Mike, and me for all aspects of his life and care.
At work, I could say goodbye to my patients and their families after their 45-minute session. As a therapist, I didn't have to face the struggles they experienced when they walked out the door. At the end of my day, I went home to my normal life. Now, I quickly learned there were no breaks; it was never-ending, all day long, week after a long week—with no guarantee of a restored life.
Progress came in baby steps. Intentionally, I cherished and celebrated all the small stuff, things that usually wouldn't register on any gauge measuring outcomes. In doing so, it gave me hope and glimpses of joy, which fueled my resolve and strengthened me to face each new day and the next hurdle head-on. I learned to think outside the box, to keep exploring new options, and not to be deterred by naysayers or what didn't help. I continue to champion Matt's cause. Blessedly, the sum of each small accomplishment has restored much of what was lost. Matt is not finished yet. His goal is to reclaim a productive and fulfilling life.
If I was so caught off guard despite my rehab background, and it was difficult for me, how much more so I imagined for families who have no prior knowledge of traumatic brain injuries (TBI)?
This motivates me to reach out and help in whatever small way I can.
Note: Everything I share is from my unique perspective. Members of my family and others who have been closely involved in his recovery may have different recollections, poignant emotions, thoughts, and views --yet I have tried to represent our collective experience.