They call it the "invisible injury" for good reason: unlike with TBI (traumatic brain injury), where the injury and resultant symptoms are so obvious, MTBI patients can seem normal.
a casual reminder that I actually did get a film made at one point in my illustrious career, convenient two-birding at a time when blowing one's horn just seems crass. negotiated my contract for the film, we fell in love, and on Oct. It is virtually impossible, as a neophyte to the injury and its many enigmatic results, to have any notion of what you're getting into; to understand the full spectrum of imminent impact on the family system, the marriage, the personality of the injured; to know the best treatments, the most advantageous way to handle stress, the sense of isolation, etc.This film, from a screenplay I co-wrote (with Patricia Royce) called "To Cross the Rubicon," was being produced in Seattle, and at some point early in the process I went to the company office and met the company attorney, Pete Wilke, Esq. 1, 1990 we drove to the courthouse in Mount Vernon, Washington, where Judge Gerald Mullen postponed his lunch to solemnly don a long black robe, and in the company of our two witnesses, court secretary Pam Green and jovial bailiff Harold Johnson, we took our vows. Regardless of what you may think you know, you don't know squat. Softball is out, hunting is a thing of the past, and travel became challenging. We struggled with our careers, wrestled with money, had good times and bad. He has to wear hearing aids now and cannot hear well enough inside his head to sing or play guitar, yet he can no longer go to clubs to listen to music because the volume is intolerable; the same with movies and sporting events.What is not readily understood is the "mindstorm" that is going on inside their head: the confusion and anguish, not only about what they're experiencing, but the resentments they feel and the conviction they have that nobody really understands what they're going through. I talked to doctors and therapists and alternative medicine practitioners.
I sought the comfort and counsel of friends and family members and got through the days.The tinnitus, head and ear pain were still ever-present but definitely more manageable, and the rage and confusion he'd felt about this life-shattering injury evolved to a more tolerable level of acceptance.In fact, he's so stoic about it that I sometimes forget he's got buzzing and whirring going on in his ears every minute of every day, or that so many of the things he loved most in life -- music, sports, activity -- can no longer be experienced.I made adjustments in my thinking, my reactions, my expectations.I dealt with the fear that neither my husband nor my life would ever be the same.I was given no advice or information that would have alerted me to many of the unexpected ramifications of not only how a brain-injured person might act, but how best to respond, how best to be a partner, a family member, a caretaker to that brain-injured person. This is a shocking deficit, particularly in this era of so many brain-injured athletes and returning vets dealing with the short- and long-term consequences of this most confounding injury.