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The crossing of taking resposisbility for a 'new Kerry':
1st September 1995 began the crossing. The journey was one of accepting and taking responsibility for the 'New Kerry'. This journey consisted of emotions beggaring description and formality. Placing a description on these emotions one is under the critique of losing sight of human individuality. However, analysing my story I hope might provide some insight into the human condition.
Being in a coma between the months of 1st September to 1st October 1995, my emotions were separated from the emotions of the 'real world'. I was separated from the world of reality into a world of dreaming and subconscious thinking. In a dream, I 'rationalised' my state as 'uncomfortable sleeping' at my Grandparents house. I could not understand why I could not wake up and call for help (at a later stage I realised my jaw was wired). Feelings of being uncomfortable in this 'sleeping arrangement', I rationalised that I had fallen off my grandparents' garden wall, in pain and needed help. Why was my grandmother not waking me up? Needing to be woken up, I would try jumping out of the bed and someone would hear the 'thud' and my brother would run to my aid. However, such an action was futile (Later I learnt that both legs were broken and such an action was physically impossible). Referring back to the 'real world', mom said I would often show the expression of "anguished crying". Morning would need to come because of the constraints of time - waiting in anticipation, this did not happen. Why? Rationalisations lead me to the conclusion that I must be dead. However, this place did not seem like the heaven I imagined - I was trapped in an unpleasant world that shattered my expectations of a blissful after life. From a personal perspective, two worlds exist within Traumatic Brain Injury; the 'real world' and the world of the 'patient'. The patient needs to be separated from the real world, as the physical pain might be unbearable for a positive recovery.
The month of October 1995 can be summed-up through the emotion of confusion. Words taken from my journal display my train of confused thought. Coming from a close relationship with my mother interpretation of this journal can be provided:
(JOURNAL):
Fundamentally, I was trying to make sense of the 'real world' and 'my world'.
A primary, instinctual emotion of trust facilitated my facing of each day at Greys Hospital (Pietermaritzburg). (Is trusting in others a learnt behaviour during your childhood?) I would trust my mother and boyfriend to go to the various therapies in the hospital - I trusted their judgment that "it was for the best". I overlooked the stares of hospital visitors in my wheelchair whilst being wheeled to the numerous therapy rooms - after all, I was not a player in the 'real world' (it did, however, worry mom, and it was this un-accepting of the status quo that formed the psychology of later self-understanding…an understanding of a 'New Kerry). Emotions formed the memory of my therapy sessions in the hospital. The emotion of disbelief in Occupational Therapy when being unable to bead a necklace…the emotion of embarrassment in Speech Therapy when being unable to find the exact word for objects (calling them by their Afrikaans names) and articulate…the emotion of humiliation in Physiotherapy when toppling on my nose whilst crawling. I would compensate for this inability to act or sound normal by employing the emotion of humour.
Significantly, when the tracheotomy came out, everyone looked at me in anticipation of relaying my world to them…a gut feeling cried out to me, "put the trachea. back in!" My voice alarmed myself as this Kerry could not articulate, use the correct tone, pitch, or find the correct words…the tracheotomy reserved my right to be anonymous in a world not yet understood. I would compensate for the inability of being a conversationalist by being a listener, observing other peoples body language, and employing my own body language.
A month later, when I went home to the Bluff-Durban, my hazy, 'humorous' world started to make sense. I WAS a part of the 'real world'. This realisation transformed my humorous world into one of frustration…I was not living up to the "Old Kerry's" personal standards of being a perfected, fully functioning happy person. This feeling of personal frustration was the ultimate turning point to my recovery… (Recovered? Am I there yet? Do we ever get there, or do TBI patients constantly have to rationalise about what is acceptable? Do we ever lose the stigma attached to TBI, or is it an event in our lives that forms the re-birth of a new person?) Days of realising that I would never attain the ideals of the "Old Kerry" would often lead to suicidal thoughts. How would I perform this act in a painless, quick and unnoticeable manner? The personal pressure of living in my home suburb was too intense - I could not and would not find the "Old Kerry". A safe alternative to this opting out of life lead me to the decision of moving to a 'res.' in 'Maritzburg University. Ironically, this is where a "New Kerry" and 'real', social therapy was found. A Kerry that could understand, although not remember, her psychology lectures. Understanding and memory are difficult concepts to link after a Traumatic Brain Injury. I would spend days trying to marry the two concepts. Realising I would have to accelerate the speed of my not-taking in the psychology lecture, forced me to arrive 2 hours early to practice letter formation (the lecturer would find the correct word for me). However, practicing was not satisfying the "Old Kerry's' need for excellent results in examinations - internal wars between the "Old" and "new Kerry" often lead me frustrated and depressed. Other alternatives would need to be found. Tape decks that I placed before the lecturer assisted me to laboriously write out my notes in my residential room. However, attention span, fatigue and the internal conflict often prevented me from doing this task. This feeling of frustration was similar to that of home…How was I going to escape this impression?
Again, I made the gut decision to abscond from this feeling of self-doubt, frustration and anger by embarking on my 2nd major of Speech and Drama. Drama Studies. Drama Studies enabled me to find a necessary coping mechanism - emotional pedagogy. Experiencing the lectures in the concrete through doing involved all my senses…sight, taste, touch and sound. Consequently, make a holistic understanding to the subject. Other people could be included into my world and I could 'play' with them by understanding their body language. This was a cathartic occurrence as mutual learning ensued and I was not a handicapped person in society. Classmates tended to benefit from the company of this "New Kerry". Remembering the theory of Drama, I needed to resort to my laborious task of note-taking in the residential room (however, amusing coping mechanisms hade now been found such as word and phrase association, and emotional incorporation - this satisfied the humour of the "New Kerry". Furthermore, adopting the disposition of interest and self and other understanding made this task fitting to my life at that moment in time.
From a subjective viewpoint, recovering from a head injury is a personalised journey. It is personal in the fact that every individual attaches different meaning and emotion to different experiences. Instances where the neurological emotional centre has been impeded with TBI patients, alternatives through sight, touch, taste and hearing need to be stimulated to get this emotional connection. Accessing those emotions and experiencing them through emotional pedagogy is fundamental to being a fully functional and happy person… An individual in which society accepts and acknowledges this "new" individual who is trying to make sense of the world.
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