Cerebrum quassatas

My brain doesn't like to be quiet. Most of the time, it's working away consciously as well as subconsciously. It particularly likes to be active when I'm trying to sleep, analysing events from the immediate and long-term past. It's a pest.

I consider myself extremely lucky.

Can you even begin to imagine how difficult life would be if you had suffered a catastrophic brain injury?

Normally, I like to post self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek content but today I'm getting serious. Bear with...

This post has been inspired by a BBC programme I watched during last night's insomnia, entitled My Injured Brain. It also draws on painful personal experience.

On 22 May, it will be 20 years since my dad survived a fall which almost killed him. He survived, but life changed with immediate effect. He suffered a subdural haemorrhage, a brain bleed that has profoundly affected his independence, mobility, cognitive ability, strength, and senses. He also shattered his skull, fractured his neck and pelvis and had massive internal bleeding, but they were the least of our worries. 

My dad was 50 years old and was given a 20% chance of survival, with the odds that he would be PVS (permanent vegetative state) if he did, miraculously, live. There was no medical intervention, nothing anyone could do. I was asked to switch off his life support 12 hours after he was admitted into intensive care.

Coincidentally, May (14-20) is Action for Brain Injury Week 2018 for Headway, the brain injury association. A month for celebration then...

The human race is adept at pigeon-holing its peers based on their appearance and behaviour. Please don't, with good reason. The amazing survivors I've met and know face judgement everyday.

You see a man with slurred speech, unsteady gait and prone to stumbles and falls - a drunk.

I know a man who acquired brain damage following the removal of a tumour from his brain stem, who has re-learnt to walk, talk, drive and live independently.

You see a woman in a wheelchair with a twisted face, who uses a voice decoder to communicate.

I know a bright and funny girl who is an exceptionally talented artist who has worked for years to regain partial use of one side of her body after a catastrophic car crash.

You see an Irish man who is funny, welcoming and one of the kindest men you'll ever meet.

I know my dad, who battles pain and fatigue daily, who has lost his sight, his independence and nearly his life. 

Life can be harsh, for many reasons, but when you consider what others go through every day, just to stand still, it makes you realise just how lucky you are.

I still have my dad - my brave, brave dad - and although we live with the realities of brain injury every day, I take every day as a bonus.

So next time you prepare to judge someone based on the way they look or the behaviours they exhibit, please pause and consider their journey. It's quite possible they are a living miracle.