After two weeks in the hospital of what the doctors believed was progress, I took a turn for the worse, losing control of my bladder as well as the ability to recognize my family members. I went into surgery the next morning, and my subdural hematoma was evacuated and a small broken blood vessel was cauterized. Over the next 2-3 months I was in rehab, and to be honest I improved rather quickly, first cognitively and, a little more slowly, physically. Having been told I would not be able to return to work until October of '92, I was thrilled to actually get back in June. However, I soon realized that despite my naive fixation on my physical capabilities (mostly restored) I was not in condition to work. My reading was noticeably slower, a major drawback when working with test procedures, and my emotional state was not good. While I was outwardly cool and in control, inside I was a mixture of despair and rage.

I forgot to mention that the skull flap removed during my brain surgery (and then placed back in, as I was under 30 (23) ) became infected with staph in the hospital, and was then removed again, followed by a 13 month period of having an ugly soft spot looking much like a golf divot on my head. After being publicly ridiculed wearing a medical helmet and then an army helmet I eventually went with a catcher's. In May of '93 no one was more thrilled than me to be going in for a cranioplasty. This'll sound weird but I really do love my plate.

Of course, this all occurred 7 years ago. Since then I've had a very hollow victory in a lawsuit (my medical expenses were barely covered, even though the deputy was found 100% at fault). I've returned to college, and for the most part done very well, topping out at a 3.8 one semester. I've also gotten married to a woman I love very much. However, at times I feel depressed, and I am constantly aware of how my life is not the same. Others around me cannot see it, except for the rare occasions I take to the basketball court (I had been a star). There is just a feeling of deadness and a lack of vitality that was once in my life. I have much less energy or drive, and am mentally worthless if at all fatigued. At times I grow very angry when I consider the circumstances surrounding my injury. How just a flick of an emergency light switch or a siren or a slowing to a reasonable speed (all of which are required by law) could've prevented this completely unnecessary accident. How the police released a statement to the press falsely blaming me for the accident as I lay fighting for my life in ICU. How the deputy was riding in his patrol car on New Year's Eve with his wife riding shotgun. How I got a blood alcohol test from the emergency room (.00), while he, who also was sent there for a cut lip, got a breathalyzer test from another sheriff. I can only imagine the charges I would've been facing had the shoe been on the other foot. After the trial I found out the deputy had received an oral reprimand.

I don't mean this to be a sob story. I know each and every one of us has a tale of woe. I'm just letting you in on some of the issues which rightly make me angry and undoubtedly sabotage my efforts at long term emotional healing. When I get depressed or angry I am met with anger and rejection by my family. "That was almost 8 years ago. David, I'm not listening to this ". I realize considering the extent of my injuries I am a very lucky man. But I just feel as if I have lost myself. Sometimes I just want to scream and cry and wail for the loss of myself, but I never do. Family members will ask me what's wrong, and if I say this (loss of self) they tell me I'm ridiculous. To be honest, if I had never suffered a head injury I might think that claim, or feeling, might sound ridiculous, too. I am viewed as a malingerer, and to be honest, I came here and wrote this looking for some comfort. It hurts to feel this way, and the pain doubles when you're yelled at afterwards. Again, I don't mean to be a whiner. I just thought somebody might understand where I'm coming from. These feelings are far from constant for me, but occasionally they come to the surface and I really have no one to share them with without fear of admonition. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Email David