Where Did My Brain Go?

“I watched the EMT cut off my blood-soaked pants and wondered why he was treating the wrong leg. I couldn’t feel my other leg.”

In 1986, a pickup truck slammed into me at 50 mph. The impact bent my right leg backward until my toes touched my thigh. I woke from a five-day coma with twelve staples in my chest, a wired jaw, and my mangled leg in a plastic bag.

But the worst injury was invisible. A note on a chart said, “Patient is confused. Somebody should check his head.” Nobody checked my head. Nobody told me my brain was damaged.

I was married to a medical doctor whom I trusted for guidance. She had other plans. She used her medical knowledge to check me out of two hospitals before any neurologist could examine me.

I couldn’t remember where the bathroom was in my house. I found letters I had sent to people I didn’t know. I was hysterical. My wife brought home extra-long straws from her hospital job. She helped me drink vodka through my wired jaw until I was in a better mood.

When vodka was not enough, doctors prescribed medications that made me stare at screens instead of living my life.

Nine years later, after my divorce, I met a woman who was worried because I screamed in my sleep. She asked the magic question: “Have you ever hit your head?”

Most brain injury memoirs feature helicopter evacuations and loving families coordinating care. Mine features medical neglect and a doctor wife who needed a babysitter.

This is the story of how I fought back:

• One surgeon restored my ability to walk without a limp after another said my knee could not be fixed.
• One social worker helped me escape the disability trap. Others wanted to keep me drugged, living in supervised housing, and dependent on their services.
• I threw out the pills, regained my senses, and went on to lead an international web development team.

Where Did My Brain Go? shows you how to reclaim your life when doctors offer only pills, when family fails you, and when the system profits from keeping you dependent.