A Letter from your Brain...Remember this...
 

Hello,

I'm glad to see that you are awake! This is your brain talking. I had to find some way to communicate with you. I feel like I barely survived WWIII and am still not quite all in one piece. That's why I need you. I need you to take care of me.

As time passes and you and I feel better and better, people, even doctors, will tell you that we are fine, "it's time to get on with life." That sounds good to me and probably even better to you. But before you go rushing back out into that big wide world, I need you to listen to me, really listen. Don't shut me out. Don't tune me out. When I'm getting into trouble I'll need your help more than I ever have before.

I know that you want to believe that we are going to be the same. I'll do my best to make that happen. The problem is that too many people in our situation get impatient and try to rush the healing process; or when their brains can't fully recover they deny it and, instead of adapting, they force their brains to function in ways they are no longer able too. Some people even push their brains until they seize, and worse... I'm scared. I'm afraid that you will do that to me. If you don't accept me I am lost. We both will be lost.

How can I tell you how much I need you now? I need you to accept me as I am today... not for what I used to be, or what I might be in the future. So many people are so busy looking at what their brains used to do, as if past accomplishments were a magical yardstick to measure present success or failures, that they fail to see how far their brains have come. It's as if here is shame, or guilt, in being injured. Silly, huh?

Please don't be embarrassed or feel guilt, or shame, because of me. We are okay. We have made it this far. If you work with me we can make it even further. I can't say how far. I won't make any false promises. I can only promise you this, that I will do my best.

What I need you to do is this: because neither of us knows how badly I've been hurt (things are still a little foggy for me), or how much I will recover, or how quickly, please go s-l-o-w-l-y when you start back trying to resume your life. If I give you a headache, or make you sick to your stomach, or make you unusually irritable, or confused, or disoriented, or afraid, or make you feel that you are overdoing it, I'm trying to get your attention in the only way I can. Stop and listen to me.

I get exhausted easily since being hurt, and cannot succeed when overworked. I want to succeed as much as you do. I want to be as well as I can be, but I need to do it at a different pace than I could before I got hurt. Help me to help us by paying attention and heeding the messages I send to you.

I will do my part to do my very best to get us back on our feet. I am a little worried though that if I am not exactly the same... you will reject me and may even want to kill us. Other people have wanted to kill their brains, and some people have succeeded. I don't want to die, and I don't want you to die.

I want us to live, and breath and be, even if being is not the same as it was. Different may be better. It may be harder too, but I don't want you to give up. Don't give up on me. Don't give up on yourself. Our time here isn't through yet. There are things that I want to do and I want to try, even if trying has to be done in a different way. It isn't easy. I have to work very hard, much harder, and I know that you do too. I see people scoff, and misunderstand. I don't care. What I do care about is that you understand how hard I am working and how much I want to be as good as I can be, but I need you to take good care of us, as well as you can do that.

Don't be ashamed of me. We are alive. We are still here. I want the chance to try to show you what we are made of. I want to show you the things that are really important in life. We have been given another chance to be better, to learn what is really important. When it is finally time for our final exit I would like to look back and feel good about what we made of us and out of everything that made up our life, including this injury. I cannot do it without you. I cannot do it if you hate me for the way being injured has affected me and our life together. Please try not to be bitter in grief. That would crush me.

Please don't reject me. There is little I can do without you, without your determination to not give up. Take good care of us and of yourself. I need you very much, especially now.


Love,


your wounded brain

©1996 Stephanie St. Claire

May be reprinted for personal, not for profit use.

I always go to this when I feel I need to reasure myself. Thanks again for this . Ging

I love this!
Thank you

I love this
 

I love this, it's so true...I plan to make a copy of it, and post it on the fridge so it will be available for myself and others to read when I'm having a bad day. Thank you so much, it's wonderful!!

Thanks
 

I just sent this to my family members so that they can understand what I am only starting to learn (2 yrs later)

So true!
 

I have had to learn that I am not the same either almost 2 years also.

I read this and cried all the way through. It is what I have been trying to tell people for the last 5 years and there have been times I just want to give up

This is beautiful, thank u. I will print this n put it on my fridge too for myself and my family, especially my children who dont understand as us adults do. Im just starting on my journey and this will help once my op is over and my head is healing. It will give me something to reflect upon and remind myself that there are 2 of us, me and my brain.

Thank you so much for posting this. I am new to this site. I suffered a ruptured aneurysm in November and had brain surgery. I try every day to stay positive while I am recovering. Some days are just so much harder than others. I printed this out already and will post this on my refridgerator too.

I am brand new to this site. My husband suffered a ruptured aneurysm back in Jan of this year. He was in a coma for three months and was recently transferred from long term acute care to a rehab hospital. He's still on a gastric tube but can tolerate puddings and jello. He still sleeps a lot and I'm scared because here where we live there are no support groups. The closest one is two hours away.

My husband has movement of his left and right hand and very limited movement of his legs. He requires help for most of his daily functions. In rehab all they do is stretching with hopes of him tolerating more.

The rehab doctor tells me he doesn't think he'll progress anymore than he has now. I have no faith in any of the doctors here because if I had listened to them in the beginning, my husband would be dead and buried. The neurosurgeon didn't even want to do surgery to stop the bleeding because as she put ii "he's 53 yrs old and I don't operate on anyone over 50 because they don't survive". I've had to fight every day with doctors and the insurance companies because no one wants to give him a chance.

I have no clue what to expect and need help understanding what's happening. I have a very strong faith and it's gotten us this far. I know God has been with us since that fateful day back in January and pray that my husband can come back home.