I will never forget the phone call I received from my father on 2006. I was an undergrad student in Kalamazoo, on break from working a double waitressing, filling up my car at the gas station. My phone rang, and the first thing my dad said was “okay, Jule, hold on to your panties here. Mom’s been in a car accident and she’s been airlifted to Ann Arbor.” I will always remember it, both for my dad’s bizarre turn of phrase, and because my life would never be the same.
I drove immediately to the hospital in Ann Arbor, clutching the steering wheel and praying the entire way. I walked into the room, unsure of what to expect, and to my surprise my mom sat right up and greeted me. Her arm was in a sling and she had some moderate shoulder trauma, but appeared to be otherwise unscathed. I spent a few hours with her and left to go back to school. If I had known then what I know now, I never would have left. You see, my mother had sustained a traumatic brain injury in the accident. There is an interesting phenomenon that happens with brain injury patients, known as a lucid interval. Essentially, the brain injury doesn’t really appear until 24 hours after the injury. So I could’ve had some more precious time with the mother I knew and would never know the same way again.
The next day, I received another call from my father. My mother had ripped her catheter out, became aggressive with staff, and tried to escape from the (fortunately locked) unit. At the time of my father’s call, she was in four point restraints. I of course made it back to visit as soon as possible, and was shocked and devastated by her condition. The best way to describe her behavior was that of a caged wild animal. Ultimately, after about three months in the hospital, they were able to stabilize her enough to where my dad and I could take her home and attempt to care for her there. I moved back from school and finished my bachelor’s at Eastern, with my eye on nursing school as my next endeavor.
We visited my mom’s Crossfire convertible at the salvage yard, perhaps for closure, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, perhaps because my dad wanted to hammer home the importance of safe driving. The passenger side door was smashed all the way up against the center console. A passenger could not have survived. It was sobering to say the least.
Through the police report and some kind witnesses who actually came to the hospital that first day, we pieced together what happened. My mother was a special education teacher, who enjoyed going to a park close to her school to eat her lunch and chat with the ranger she became friendly with. As she was pulling out of the park to return to school, she apparently didn’t look both ways and darted out into traffic. She was struck by a Ford F150 who was traveling at the maximum speed of 50 mph. She remained unconscious at the scene until medflight arrived.
My mom’s accident changed her life and the lives of each of my family members forever. My dad and I struggled to care for her appropriately at home, despite the therapists that would visit to aid in her recovery. Ultimately she ended up in a great brain injury assisted living facility, but it was heartbreaking to visit and even harder to leave her there when the visit was over. We missed out on so many of the milestones that people take for granted. When my first son was born, my mother was afraid to hold him for fear of dropping him, which wouldn’t have even been a thought before the accident. The accident seemed to make her a bit softer and gentler, almost childlike at times, which was somehow both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.
I would give anything to go back to 2006 and find a way to ensure that my mom would have just looked both ways before she accelerated. I believe that people regard driving as such a casual, everyday activity that some of the caution that is required falls by the wayside. Brain injuries are more common than one would think, and often a result of vehicular accidents. I truly hope that my story will make a difference and promote safe driving.