High speed, High Impact

High Speed, High Impact

It all started with a little crack. The crack developed tentacles as it spread very slowly and seemingly quietly, shattering my windshield, my life and nearly my whole being. That crack led me straight into a life unlike anything I had previously known, one that seemed incomprehensible before. That simple crack would leave no part of my life untouched. The lack of noise made the incident seem innocent enough, but it would turn my life upside down, never to be righted again.

In the latter half of February 2004, things began to be different, strange as though something other than me was in control of my life. I would wake up in the morning, or more likely afternoon, completely confused about who, when and where I was. Answers came after determined investigation. I was always late leaving and late returning. I thought I had a time management problem. I doubled up on planning, organizing, and doing what I was supposed to do. I was dizzy, my head swimming somewhere outside of my body.

People would notice was different and not so helpfully suggest that something was wrong. Usually these were told in second person, “Jane thinks you have been acting a bit odd lately.” It seemed like no one was concerned about me, but how I was reflecting upon them. I had had Major Depressive Disorder for years, but my wellness seemed to be of limited interest, how I was affecting others seemed to be their primary concern.

I had been assessed, interrogated and analyzed to no avail. The medical doctor thought it was a psychological problem. The psychiatrist thought it was a physical. I thought I was losing my mind. The police had stopped me more than once for suspected OWI and taken me to the hospital only to be pronounced “clean” with a recommendation to keep better hours and get more sleep.

Now sleep posed a major problem, I couldn’t get any and if I did, I would wake up dazed, confused and incoherent. My sleep pattern had become 60 hours awake followed by 18 hours of sleep. Nothing seemed to help with the sleep deprivation and confusion.

I was self-employed, divorced with limited financial resources. I had to work. My relationships were in ruin. My mother and sister had not spoken to me in years.. My work was precarious at best. It was all I could do to make it to work. My best friend was angry with me because I could not just “snap out of it.” My ex-husband was trying to be supportive while insisting something was terribly wrong.

One day I could not even stand up with a walker, let alone walk. Somehow I made it out of the house and to the ER. My potassium level was critically low and I was given IV’s to correct it. My balance improved and I was sent home to rest. I was told to take family medical leave which was denied by my employers.

My employers insisted I work. Three days after I was discharged from the hospital, the administrator at one of my nursing homes insisted I present myself to work the next morning. I felt I was unable to, but forced myself out of bed and left for work. My ex-husband tried to stop me, but I was determined I had to go. I later found out he followed me out of town trying to get me to turn around.

My last memory before the crack is getting in my car. The first memory after that is the need to go to the bathroom three days later and being told I had to stay in bed because I had broken my leg. Broken hardly describes it. The surgeon later told me I had shattered my femur, the bone in my upper leg. It was the worst he had ever seen.

I spent the next few days in and out of consciousness. I knew who I was, but I couldn’t remember where I was or what had happened. Even when this information was posted on a dry-erase board, I could not figure out the answers to these simple questions.