soup lover from way back. His response, he tapped his chest and said, ‘me too’. Late this afternoon he took his first steps (I mean shuffle). Scott was supported by his physiotherapist and shuffled from outside his room back to his bed. He is now eating well (lasagne puree tonight).
Another amusing comment made nearing the end of dinner from him was, ‘It’s cold.’ Forget Scott, we were glad that it was cold simply because it prompted such a comment. (Small things amuse small minds I guess, but when you haven’t heard him mutter a word for three and a half weeks, it’s amazing what will tickle ya fancy). I think that we have reached a point now where my reports are telling you about small events that are big in our minds, but small in the overall journey. I have now decided that I will pull back on daily updates and provide you with more significant weeklies unless I hear from enough of you that still want to be kept informed on a more regular basis. I don’t mind either way but don’t wish to bore you with small events that are significant to us but small in the overall. I’ll let you guys make that call.
Regards,
Harris family
Settling into Epworth Rehabilitation wasn’t a challenge for me because as far as I was concerned, I was only going to be in there for a short time, a few weeks tops. This was the state of mind an injured brain could be in. At this point, I was completely oblivious to the impact my brain injury had on my family and friends, and the impact it was going to have on the rest of my life. All I knew was that I wasn’t at work and that I would be in hospital for the next few weeks; I was in a room sleeping a lot and I was getting A LOT of attention. The next few weeks came and went and I was still there, so maybe this was a little worse than I first thought, and maybe it would be a bit longer until I would be back at work and into the on-site banter.
Because I had endured broken bones and a beaten-up body in the past from sporting injuries, this really felt no different. This was just another time I have hurt myself. This feeling was probably due to the highly effective medication I was zoned out on each day. I was given the medication to relieve the pain and it did exactly that. The only thought running through my head was that I would be off work for the rest of the year. Being December, I expected to be back at work in the New Year. When the weeks turned into months and then each month came and went, I couldn’t comprehend why my body wasn’t
healing. Was this accident a bit more serious than I first realised? I eventually came to understand that it wasn’t a matter of ‘when’ I would return to work, but ‘if’.
This wasn’t exactly an exciting time for the family when they came to visit as I was asleep most of the time. For the few hours I was awake, I had some lightweight rehab sessions and some family time. Being summer, the weather was beautiful, but I only had one visit to the outside world before I was inside again. Being confined to my room for so long, I built up an image of the hospital in my head, and I was simply blown away by its sheer size (so I’m told). The hospital isn’t really that big, but when you have been spending day and night in one room the size of a luxurious dog kennel, the rest of the complex really did feel like a small city.
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Hi all,
Scott had a visit today from his dog Zoe, which he really enjoyed. The Rehab centre gave the ok for Zoe to now visit on a regular basis. Scott was given a tour of the facilities for the first time being taken around the centre in a wheelchair. Having been confined to his room to date he was surprised as to the size and the facilities contained within.
He was shown the gym and told to expect to be introduced to it next week. He was shown the workshop and introduced to the instructor who told Scott that he was welcome down the track to come and get involved. He was shown a small kitchen where patients could go and do a bit of cooking (all part of the rehab program) and he was taken to the rooftop outdoor courtyard where he could go and enjoy the sun and also make use of the BBQ.
Scott finally snapped out of his bored state of mind and marvelled at the extent of the facilities and the hospital’s size. He met a couple of patients who were close to his age and had conversations with them. He now has a better understanding of where he is and the road ahead. He is progressing towards the end of PTA but still a little way to go. His doctors and physios are all pleased with his progress to date. He now has a small amount of movement in his right hand and fingers plus elbow and shoulder. He is experiencing numbness in this arm, which, we are told, is a good sign. So we cross our fingers and hope that the next week brings similar progress to that of his WEEK ONE at Epworth.
Regards,
Harris family
Although I didn’t understand why then, I wasn’t allowed visits from friends and extended family members. This was because I was in PTA and my brain was still trying to boot up. If I had any chance of a system recovery, then any extra stimulation could cause a system crash and would need to be minimised. Post Traumatic Amnesia is a state that everyone goes through after receiving a head injury and the length of time you are in this state is a good indication of the severity of the damage you’ve done to your brain.
When it was time to move onto the next step in my life, the occupational therapist came to do an evaluation on me. To show that I was beyond PTA all I had to do was pass this evaluation and it was then, and only then, that I could walk up to race with the rest of my team. In other words, I would be free to socialise. The evaluation consisted of easy questions such as what is my name, what is my age, where do I live, the date, and those sorts of things.
They appeared to be trick questions, but when I look back on them now, I realise how important it was to my health that I got them right. I needed to answer the same set of questions correctly three days in a row, proving that my injured brain could form new memories – that was how I could continue to move on with my broken life.
On the second day the OT (occupational therapist) asked me one of those trick questions: ‘Scott, what is the date of Christmas?’ I had got wind that I may be out of PTA soon, so I knew that I had to get this one right. I put my thinking cap on tight, held my breath and said, ‘25th...of December...umm.’ Come on, Scott, you know this one, I thought, but I was tossing up between 1984 and 1985. Think, Scott, think! ‘25th of December...1985.’ Yes, I remembered! Nailed it. BOOM.
Mum was holding back the laughter for what her son had said, but at the same time she let out a sigh. Not of relief, but of disappointment when she snapped back into reality and was reminded of what this accident had done to me. She tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘That was good, Scott, Christmas is on the 25th and indeed, it is in December. But Christmas is every year, not just 1985.’
I realised she was right and I thought, how did you get that wrong? The answer was there in that thick skull of yours and you said that? This was embarrassing mostly because I let Mum down. I was so angry with myself. The positives we took out of this was that, in fact, it was a good sign because at least I could register that I got it wrong and didn’t think, I don’t get it, I swear Christmas was in 1985. ‘Apparently’ an injured brain finds it hard to make new memories when experiencing PTA, so it wasn’t too long before I forgot the stupid answer I’d given and we’d start over.
Christmas 2008 came around and I wasn't yet out of PTA, which meant that I could not enjoy the day with the rest of the tribe. Instead, I spent it with my dad in a dark room. The family in Melbourne were all hoping that I would
