Introduction
At one point during my recovery, I remember telling or
being told that I was alive because God wanted me to be. To this day I am sure I was kept alive
to serve others and utilize what I have been through to help people. I have used this mantra through the
years of recuperation and professionally as an Occupational Therapist. When
something has become hard to handle, or difficult to learn, or perform
professionally, I have known God is behind me, and his plan for me is, to help
others.
-Lori Faitel
February 2, 2008
How do I explain something I don’t even understand?”
I was in a car accident while driving to work one day. I was registered dead, then in a coma. My mind grew from that of an unborn child to the adult body that surrounded my brain in a matter of 6 years.
I have written this book based on the memoirs I kept from the time I could write again, I think I was mentally about 4 or 5 years old, I kept memoirs until after I tested with a normal brain function and began college.
I cannot begin to explain what I went through, nor can I give accounts from those I am closest to. My husband, Adam, has requested to never read, hear, or see details about this book. My parents have both told me how proud and happy they are with who I am today. They also have expressed how the memories of their minutes, hours, days, months and years continue to haunt them.
I am basically the same person today that I was prior to the closed head injury. A lot of detailed aspects to my personality, demeanor, and temperament have changed. In the long run, I feel all the changes have enriched the person I am today. I like me, and I truly have a compassion for others, that was not in my character prior to the injury.
Today, I am a practicing Certified Occupational Therapist who dreams of becoming a writer. In these memoirs you will read my most intimate and private parts of my life. I have known since the late 1980’s that I would eventually have the courage to delve into my memoirs. I hope this book opens the eyes of the general public about the lives of the head injured and also supports the head injured and their loved ones.
My years of recovery changed not only my life, but many of those around me. I see this as a very significant piece of art. Allow me to invite you to my private world, share with my happiness, sadness, confusion, my return to normal life and ultimately me today.
Chapter One
HOW IT ALL HAPPENED
It was
After the final exam I stopped at Fibber McGee’s, a local pub just across the street from my apartment. A buddy from class and I had one celebratory beer. I emphasize only one beer because I generally did not like beer. Friends, from both work and my evening classes, often asked me to join them for a drink once our work was finished. I was always up for socializing; I usually ordered a beer to curb any desire for a second drink.
I was living in my first apartment. I can still visualize it. For Robin, my room mate, and I, this was our first home independent of our parents. When Robin and I moved in together, we had been friends for 6 years. We hung around the same people in high school, took vacations together, and visited each other at our parent’s homes, but never were we in such close quarters as sharing daily living space.
Robin and I had furnished our apartment with old furniture donated to us from friends and our parents. It was a two-bedroom on the ground floor. I talked Robin into letting me have the largest bedroom across the hall from the bathroom. My room was just a few steps to the living room, adjoining kitchen space, and front door.
This was my private apartment in the mornings. Robin slept in until after I left for work, so the portion of the apartment from my bedroom to the entrance, was mine
As with any other work day, my alarm went off at
My room was directly across the hall from the bathroom. Getting up and rolling into the shower was an easy task. I took a shower, blow-dried my hair, and then went back to my bedroom. I looked for the outfit I had put together the evening before, as I always did, to ensure that I didn’t wear the same thing twice in a week. Once dressed, I made my bed.
While I was making my bed, I was startled by the phone. It was unusual to get a call in the morning. I had a phone in my bedroom and we had another extension in the living room. I grabbed my phone quietly. It was Robin’s boss. Because she worked later than
I finished making my bed and got dressed. I put on my brand new pantsuit in my favorite color pink. Because of my new promotion, I tried to dress the part every day; I wanted to always look professional
After showering, dressing, and making my bed, I moved into the kitchen area. I had a 9 inch black and white Zenith on the table. As I became comfortable in this first home of my own, I enjoyed using the kitchen table as a make-up area. Since high school, I listened to the news while I dressed for school. Because I was living in my own world, I had the freedom to watch TV in my kitchen. My morning companion was “Good Morning America.” As, I listened to Charles Gibson’s voice, I put a mug of water in the microwave. When I heard the ding, I knew the water was hot. I chose a flavor of international coffee to suit my mood and sat down to watch T.V., load up on caffeine, and put my make-up on.
That day, the news was mainly about the
When that was finished I moved back to my bedroom. I have always loved jewelry. Each time I purchased a new blouse I also purchased an inexpensive costume jewelry necklace and earrings to match. I hung my necklaces on push pins on the wall above a mirrored vanity table in my bedroom. Instead of going to my closet to choose which shoes I would wear, as many other women do, I looked through my jewelry treasures. I decided on a contrast beaded set to enhance the monochromatic pink of my pantsuit. My final touch was to stop back in the bathroom where my curling brush would be warmed up. I could then strategically place a few curls in my baby fine hair to hopefully give a little fullness. Tons of hairspray and I was ready to go.
Because my apartment was on the ground floor, I closed and locked the door to ensure Robin’s safety. It was a very sunny day, truly the beginning of spring. Earlier that week Robin had started to open the door wall, so as to let the spring air in. We talked about how great our apartment would be in the summer. It was our first time away from the parents. We planned parties, buying a BBQ, and doing summer stuff at our place.
I had a short walk up two or three steps, through a cement hall, and down some steps to the parking lot. My building was one of 6 apartment buildings in the complex. It sat far back, away from the main road. I entered my car, a silver two-door Toyota Corolla., and lit a Marlboro Light.
The Corolla was the first car I had in my name. This was a time of firsts for me: my first apartment and my first car. Both the car and apartment signified the beginning of my independence from my parents this was very valuable to me. I tried to keep my car clean inside and out as I tried to keep my apartment neat and orderly. I was very proud of my new stuff.
I purchased my
As I pulled out of the parking lot, there was nothing good on the radio. I pushed my radio tuner several times. I drove down a rocky and highly traveled dirt road, over some railroad tracks, until I was on the entrance to I-96. The building I worked in was about a 15-minute drive from my apartment. From my parking lot until I reached the freeway it was the same old route. After the turn around onto the freeway the traffic was heavier. I was accustomed to the traffic as the road had been this way for a few weeks, due to construction of the extension of I-275 toward Northville.
Once I was on the straightaway, scanning traffic to see where I fit in, I noticed a bail of hay in the road. My options were limited. I knew I had to change lanes. I checked the lane to my left, there was a white four-door car. Since I was in my small
My last memory on the road that day was thinking I should change lanes. Without even a few seconds to allow me to register disaster was about to strike, it happened. I never had a Moment of, “Oh my God.” I never saw the collision. To my right, was a patch of grass covered with construction, materials and cement trucks I had nowhere to go!
A police officer rescued me from my car. Mom said the police were alerted to the accident from a news helicopter reporting the traffic for the day. When I began healing, I bumped into many acquaintances who had heard reports of the accident. People told me of their concern for the driver of the accident, which changed to concern for my life when they later learned the report was about me.
I was, and still am, unable to tell what actually happened and how the collision occurred. I relied on the eye-witness testimony from the court proceedings. I sued the construction company that owned the truck carrying the hay.
When the testimony was given I was mentally unstable, this court proceeding happened within a month of the accident. I did not attend I was afraid to hear the story... The court report was mailed to me. I tried to read this document over and over again. To me this document was the secret for the return of my memory. I was unable to comprehend what I had read. I kept these documents and read what I understood, studied, tried to visualize and digest the information. As my reading became stronger, I read and re-read the document. I tried to make the accident a part of my memory; I was desperate to add this ingredient to my history. I have had no recollection ever since.
The eye-witness was a truck driver. Because I was not at the testimony, I tried to recreate the hearing. I thought of the typical truck driver seen on TV, with a baseball cap and chewing tobacco, the driver of a 16-wheeler. The driver described the pink outfit I had worn. He must have been close to me to see what I was wearing. The driver recounted that a truck in front of me had dropped a bail of hay. He then said “She gained on the truck.”
That must have been the Moments that I had recognized my need to change lanes.
The witness said he saw a second bail fall from the truck. This last bail dropped on my windshield. I spun off the road. I was rushed from the ambulance to emergency at
The drop of the second bail of hay was when my memory stopped. My psychologist, Dr. Ianni, said my mind shut off. If I had been aware of the impending disaster, I would have suffered a heart attack. . A witness saw my car hit a cement abutment. I was told my car rolled three times.
As soon as I was able to leave the hospital Adam, who later became my husband, drove me past the area of the accident. I begged for Adam to duplicate the route, praying the sight might help with my memory. When I saw the accident site, the tire tracks and up-turned grass were fresh, displaying the location where my car rolled. I thought it would help to see the area. I felt nothing, all I saw was the landscape and no memory returned.
Later, while staying at my parent’s home, I was given pictures of my car after it had been hauled to the dump. In these pictures, I could see my car clearly. The driver’s side had been completely flattened. The passenger’s side was smashed from the roof to the middle of the door.
I thought the car in the pictures resembled a Delorean.
I liked the style of the Delorean, it had a futuristic look. The sides from the doors to the roof seemed to take on a triangle shape, the shape of my car in the pictures.
I kept the pictures in my dresser drawer. In continued hope for a memory, I tried to look at the picture daily.
I took the pictures to the hospital to show my therapists. I showed the nurses. I showed other patients who rode the transportation van with me. I showed patients sitting in the patient lounge, in between therapies. I showed anyone who would look.
Showing the pictures was my way to explain what happened to me.
The police officer who pulled me out of my smashed car said he had used “The Jaws of Life.”
I remember that my lawyer and my psychologist had asked me to tell them the details from the accident. I was asked over and over again. I thought if I were to remember the accident the cure to my mental injury would surely follow. I had a memory of a truck in a lane on the freeway in front of me. That was what I thought was a memory, it was a self-created image. The image was of an enclosed truck. The pull-down door holding the contents inside was open with several swaying hay bails.
As I told my psychologist, I remembered that I had seen a bail of hay fall and land in front of me on the highway. At that time, I assumed this was my actual memory. When I finished telling my psychologist of these thoughts, he said the truck involved in the accident was a stake truck which is not enclosed, but holds its cargo with ropes and poles. My doctor said that I must have subconsciously created this memory in response to the vacancy in my mind about the experience.
I was told many different views of the accident. The owners of a hair salon I once worked for said that they had been driving to the shop from their home when they saw the traffic and the emergency vehicles. They had been deeply concerned for the poor person involved in the wreck.
The receptionist, Lorri, at the Realty Board became suspicious as time went by and I hadn’t clocked in. I had always been on time. Eventually, she went to the yellow pages and called local hospitals to find me.
My mother tells of the most disturbing telephone call in her life. She says the caller must have thought my Mom was a computer; Mom speaks with a device. In a very monotone uncaring voice the caller would only tell my MOM to call the hospital regarding Lori Purdy.
My Mom immediately called my Dad at his office and told him of the frightening call she had just received. My father then took over. He called the hospital for information, Dad was told I had been rushed to Emergency and was in ICU.
Dad rushed home to pick up my mother. I am certain Mom was beside herself. I am amazed she had the strength to contact my Dad. Dad drove her to the hospital. No doubt that his mind was very preoccupied with thoughts of his oldest, steering toward her death. Together they rushed into the hospital. After determining where to go, they had to wait in the ICU to hear from the doctors if I was expected to live. Mom and Dad say it felt like days before anyone had any news.
“I found out about the accident when your job called to see why you didn’t come in. I told that that you had left for work already. I know that on the morning news that they said there was an accident I don’t remember how I found out about your accident. I don’t know if someone called me on it or that I found out my self through your work. I believed that I called your work and they told me there. I had to work at Romano’s in the morning. I had to cater at party of 5. I just remember that I was crying the whole time I was working, making pizzas. Everyone wanted to know what was wrong I told them that my friend, my roommate was in a serious car accident. After work, I came to see you in the hospital at
--Robin, my roommate.
“On the morning of April of 86, I was sitting at our kitchen table working on bills. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I was still thinking about how happy Lori had been when she stopped over to see me the previous afternoon, so pretty in her new pink outfit.
Then the phone rang with the worst kind of news any parent can hear. It was a call from the hospital. It was made even more difficult because I am a laryngectomee (voice-box removal) and speak with an artificial device that sounds robotish. The person calling me would not give me information other than that Lori had been in an accident. She said she could not give any information to a "machine". I made it very clear that I was NOT a machine and that she HAD to give me the information. She said the accident was serious enough that I should get to the hospital as soon as possible. At this point, my legs went to rubber and I could barely breathe. The next thing I remember needing to call Lori's DAD to tell him the news. After calling a neighbor so she would be able to watch for our son when he arrived from school, Ed and I drove to the hospital. Everything from that point was like living in a nightmare. We were taken to emergency and met by doctors who informed us that Lori might not make it and if she did she would most likely be in a vegetative state. The only thing that helped me after that was meeting with the policeman who had been first at the accident scene and informed us that Lori had literally "died" twice on the way to the hospital. I felt that if she had already had two miracles, we could hope for another. My words to any parent who finds them in this horrific situation, is to never give up hope no matter what the doctors say, and I believe that doctors owe it to the family members to give at least "some" hope.” –MOM.
Adam refuses to bring the memories of the accident to consciousness. A good friend of Adam and I, John told, “When I heard of the accident, I took Adam to the bar”. John knew Adam had a very hard time expressing his feelings. John thought a drink would be comforting for Adam, allowing Adam to accept friendship and support.
Lorri the receptionist at work was most likely the second person in my life to find out about the accident. Lorri and I had been friends since we were 16-years-old. Lorri was a very caring person, she notified the CEO then called all the friends and family she could think of.
My brother told me that my head was huge. I can laugh today, I directly remember my brother, a boy of 13 telling me, “Your head looked like a pencil eraser.” Adam told, “You had more tubes connected to you than anything I had ever seen before”. My Mom says my head was bruised, my eyes black and blue. My Dad tells how he could see the bones through the ripped skin at the top of my right foot because the cuts were so large and deep.
I can still feel the chills that I experienced for a few years after my hospitalization when I walked into a medical facility. If I heard any life support machines, regardless of how quiet or loud they were in reality, they rang loudly in my soul. I felt chills and immediate dizziness at those sounds. For years after the accident, while in a car when another car came close to me, I faintly heard a sound of crushing metal in my mind.
Once the receptionist at work found the hospital I was in, co-workers came and went throughout the day. I guess the CEO gave them all paid time off to visit me.
“We were all standing in the hall at the hospital, looking around nervously to find something that had to do with you. I saw a gurney being pushed. The person being moved was covered by a sheet but her feet were sticking out. I took one look at the freshly painted pink toes and I knew it was you. I yelled to everyone: There is Lori!”-Chris, my friend at work
My parents were not very street wise. They originated from the rural suburbs of
