The paramedics came I was not breathing and would not breath on my own. I hear they zapped me a couple times to get my heart started but even after that they had to do the breathing for me. I was transported to the tiny mountainous hospital where I was put on a ventilator. The roomate who found me lifeless provided the hospital with the phone numbers of family and they were summoned from across the state "come quick, she won't make it but a few hours!" Comatose, pupils fixed dialated 4mm unresponsive to light, no response to pain...Glasgow Coma Scale 4 (don't know how that adds up under those conditions...but who am I to say). Family arrived by private plane to the mowed field known as the local air strip and others came by car, all suprized to learn I had not yet expired. I even made it though the morning before respiratory and other complications set in and sezuires began...white blood count was skyrocketing I probably had pneumonia as a result of Asthma complications even before I was admitted. Family phoned my cousin, Pulmonology nurse and using her professionalism as a guise she phoned the hospital and learned the details. She had the Pulmonologist she worked for interviene and during his long distance phone conversations with my treating physician changes were made in ventilator setting and other things were done and he insisted a local Pulmonologist be brought in immediately. Through those phone contacts my family learned that previously not much hospital intervention had been taken with me because the hospital did not think I was insured and believed I was going to die anyway...my family proved them wrong on both accounts. The only pulmonologist and only neurologist within many miles were summoned but they could not get to the hospital because storms had not only flooded the town but waters were flowing in thru the hospital doors...power was out and the hospital was running on generators and ventilators have battery back ups. Eventually, the Pulmonologist as a favor to his professional friend (the Pulmonologist my cousin worked for) waded though thigh high water in the hospital parking lot to come in and consult...the situation was bad complicated by ARDS (adult respiratory distress syndrome another potentially fatal condition in itself). There wasn't much hope for me. It was understood that the little country hospital I was in did not have the resources for such a serious case but with the storms I could not be medi-flighted out and besides I was not even stable enough to risk being moved. A couple of days passed and the storms subsided, my respiratory condition began to improve a bit and the neurologist had come, there was hope that I would survive, there was finally indication of brain activity, but the outcome was still not very hopeful. I was sent via ambulance to the tiny local landing strip where I was picked up by a medical helicopter and airlifted to a major hospital. I slipped "deeper" into the coma after the move. Day by day things gradually improved, the family still in turmoil wondering if I would be ok or how impaired I would remain...there was still no telling and they say that was the hardest part but they were grateful when eventually I was off the ventilator. After weeks in ICU I improved enough to be transfered to a medical ward. Eventually, to me it seemed like I all of a sudden "woke up" confused and not remembering anything that had occurred but family say I had been opening my eyes on and off, moving, yanking at tubes etc. for a couple of days. It did not take long to realize when I "awoke" I was paranoid delusional. They never decided if that was from the brain trauma/brain damage or a reaction to the IV medications...but it lasted so long that they began to think it was a permanent thing. And to me that was scarey, even though I can't remember much, I remember the intensity of the paranoia and every detail of the delusions as if it were a Steven King movie I just watched. I was so distrubed/distrubing I was moved to a private room where a nurse sat at my bedside 24 hours a day...which I think was worse because I believed the staff was trying to harm me and kill me as well as were doing many other terrible things to people around me. I couldn't eat there were terrible things about the food, I stared at the TV because there were people watching and talking to me thru it, I was trying to call people to get help (even though I couldn't figure out how to dial the push button phone...they say I spent hours clutching the phone.) I got pretty combative especially when they wanted me in the bed instead of on the floor, I was afraid of the bed. I was pretty unstable coordination wise but eventually a nurse took me in the special shower, first time in weeks, it was the best thing and to this day ever since I take repeated extremely long showers every day. After that was the first time I got to look in a mirror and I was horrified...I saw my 98 year old dilapidated grandfather in the mirror and believed they put my brain into his body and figured that was why I was so feeble, shakey, weak and uncoordinated...I felt just plum old. Days later I thought I had secretly left the hospital and slept in a hotel for the night then returned to get the rest of the care I needed. I thought I pulled one over on the hospital and they no longer knew who I was so they were no longer trying to harm me. It was as if I "woke up" all over again, no longer paranoid and delusional. I felt like myself, quite dilapidated, uncoordinated, tired, confused etc., ...but I began to eat, talk to the nurse who still sat at bedside even though talking was hard and I wanted to get up an move around even though that was also hard. After a couple of days the IV came out and with all that had occurred I was being transferred to a locked down high security, high supervision psychiatric ward...boy that was a new and different experience. I did not however have any problems that I believed warranted being in that psychiatric ward and the first "shrink" evaluationg me once I was transferred there believed the same, but I was stuck there because it was late on Friday, day before a three day holiday weekend and a team of doctors would have to agree to let me go home before I could be released...that would not be several days until the team met. I could leave against medical advise, but if I did I was warned that my medical insurance might refuse to pay for my course of treatment...which included the entire time of my coma so I decided to stick it out there. Boy I can share some stories. I still did not want to eat, but before showing my tray to the staff person who recorded what I ate I would sneak my uneatten food onto other peoples trays...I did not want to have any reason for them to keep me there longer. All I wanted to do was drink orange juice...for months and months after my coma all I wanted was orange juice.

It felt different going home. Prior to leaving the hospital, no one discussed with me that I might have brain injury or even any adverse or uncomfortable effects from what had transpired...I was just released without any medication and told to report to my family physician the following morning. It was weird leaving the hospital. I could not see very well, everything was blurry and the light was so bright I had to put on two pairs of sunglasses to make it dark enough that I could keep my eyes open...it took months before I could see right away after transistioning from light to dark places and I still have a little problem with that but not much. I still wear sunglasses outside during the day or everything is too bright and I don't see very well. Everything around me seemed to be hurried, moving to quickly like in fast forward but I felt like I was going in slow motion. I couldn't look out the window during the ride home because it felt like we were driving 200 MPH and it scared me. I tried to chit chat with the driver but it was hard to maintain the thought process, listen and speak at the same time, but I really wanted to have a conversation...I was excited I was going home, I missed my pets. I had to concentrate a bit on making my words come out right, both in thought and movement and I am told I was not perfect in clarity of either thought or speech. It seemed easier to talk if my eyes were closed because there was less outside stimulation to busy my brain. Listening to the radio was soothing and I knew that I recognized the songs just could not remember all the words as the music played. I chalked all those things up to being isolated and out of it in the hospital so long and expected that after a few days rest at home I would be fully recovered and be back to my ol' self.

I went home and slept and my roommate woke me up the following morn to take me to my doctors appointment. That is when all hit me, what had transpired and wondered what I was going to do from then on out. I had been under nearly a year of excuricating, intense and mounting employment discrimination and harrassment at the hands of management at work because I had exposed their illegalities and asked for compliance. Their illegalities were causing my otherwise unobtrusive Asthma to be incapacitating and I was missing alot of work and therefore having financial stuggles in addition to feeling sick all the time. I do have pending workers compensation and discrimination cases pending but do not see any resolve for at least another few years at that regardless of if I "win" or "lose" and that began in 1996. I was a Federal Employee working for a Federal Entity and many in my shoes either go nuts, attempt suicide or start shooting people before anything is resolved. So that leads into why I was in a coma anyway...I attempted suicide by overdose. Even today knowing I am alive few believe I survived such an overdose unless they see those evidenced details in the medical records. There were alot of things going on that pushed me to that but doctors believe it was a moment of insanity caused by Prednisone medication I was taking for my Asthma when it occured because something like that is certainly not in line with my character...I can not even believe I did it, but I did! When it happened I meant to die but I did not plan on my roommate coming home early and finding me before it was already to late. She called paramedics and ran to the neighbors and got the nurse who lived there. I was not breathing when they found me and no one knows for how long I wasn't breathing. Knowing the details their best guess is about fifteen minutes, but it doesn't seem possible since I am still here, especially typing this.

I was on an extended medical leave of absence from work. Being uspet about what had been going on at work and after some time of getting frustrated with BI impairments (though I did not know it was BI at the time) and having the resulting financial problems I got very angry that they did not just let me die in the first place. The doctor had refered me to a neurologist. I went to the neurologist and told him I lost my balance all the time, couldn't see very well, could not remember even the names of common things and places etc. he told me not to worry that would improve over the next few years. When I told him my feet wouldn't work right and I kept stumbling and falling he told me to do buy a walking stick to lean on. He said no more and did not indicate that another visit was necessary so i walked out feeling like I was a liar and it was all in my head. My doctor also wanted me to see a psychiatrist but there was none within 30 miles who took my kind of insurance so the doctor prescribed me something that could not kill me if I took to many. My frustration increased as I did not feel physically, mentally or emotionally capable to go back and complete my tasks at work. My frustration grew as I still could not remember the names of things and places and had to "talk around" everything to get my thought across even forgetting what I was talking about midsentence. I was mad when I would forget why I was entering a rooms. I felt like I was drunk whenever I tried to move and that also frustrated me. I could not see well and it seemed no one would believe me. I began rationing that suicide was the answer again but this time because I was angry that they saved me the first time and on top of it all now I had to deal with these impairments...I did not even care if these impairments were temporary they were impairments nonetheless and living with them would feel like an eternity even if it was only for a week...to me they felt permanent at that time. I know now they were all permanent but just are not as bad as they were at first. I saw improvements for about six months but nothing changed after that except the way I learned to accomodate them. I have since learned that with anoxic brain damage most improvements do occur in the first six months and usually don't occur after the first year unlike TBI where improvements often continue for a much longer period. Anyway, I said a few wrong words about being suicidal and my roommate called the doctor and I found myself locked up in the local mental hospital against my will. I did get psyc help though and they experimented around with psyc medications. But the pattern of frustration, depression and suicidal thought kept occurring for a couple years and I was in and out of the mental hospital about a dozen times. They kept me zombielike so I would not feel and therefore get suicidal, but they did not realize that to me feeling zombielike made me suicidal. Eventually, believing the sedative effects of the psyc meds were making my BI symptoms worse I just stopped taking psyc meds. and wow a new world popped up. I began feeling better emotionally, I could do somethings though limited instead of remaining a "space cadet" all the time and my BI symptoms were not as bad and therefore I was not as frustrated, I began surfing the web and discovered what BI was and that it could be the reason for all these weird problems I was STILL having, some people could relate to what I was experiencing and they knew and believed it was happening to me...it wasn't just all in my head after all. I found comfort in knowing others could relate...but the doctors still didn't. Eventually after jumping up and down refusing to take any psyc meds until I at least after I had a neuropsyc test, I got the neuropsyc test. And yep, certainly enough, short term memory loss, slow processing speed, various things, but I had a hi IQ so that baffled alot of folks. Even after that the psycs had there grips in me and wanted to treat it all psychiatricly. I wanted more...I wanted it to be documented in the medical records that I had a BI...I'm still waiting two years later. Though I do finally have a Neurology appointment scheduled and a 24 hour EEG...because now the doctors think I may be having partial comples sezuires where I have short black outs, eye tremors etc. Now, after four years of the same thing they threatened they may take my drivers license away. I did not notice this "seziures" happening in the beginning, then they seemed to happen for awhile and went away for a long time and have come back again. I know for a while I was taking tegretol for psyc reasons and maybe that helped them not to happen but for sometime when I was not on tegretol they weren't happening either. It seems like they come in phases or episodes, alot for a while and then none for a long time but when they occur I notice most of my BI symptoms are worse and I stay a bit confused for a long time and end up in a depression. But the doctor is having me take no sezuire meds until after I see the neurologist and then will let the Neuro prescribe what is needed...I am scheduled for a 24 hour EEG, but these sezuire things don't happen everyday...well see, hope it happens on paper. Even so, I don't think the Psyc's will ever get their claws out of me, I think they want me there and I do not want to have to be there. I do think the BI causes at least intermittent depression and certainly even though I am finally resolved that I am BI'd the symptoms themselves and the feelings associated often cause me to be intermittently depressed. I don't mind taking the psyc drugs anymore if they help me to deal with the depression...but I hate it when folks, such as my Mother "mislabel" my BI as depression. My mom who is very important in my life will never acknowledge that I have a BI because if someone asked she'd have to admit that it was from my suicide attempt. She already thinks my suicide attempt was her fault because she "must have raised me wrong". So instead she just tells me forget about the past, my work cases and my BI...if I was just to begin again and get a job I would no longer have these "problems" or be depressed. I love her anyway, she may be wrong but she means well. I told the Psyc today that I was thinking of going back and trying work...she pleaded with me to do more volunteer work instead...insists that I am not capable or ready at this time to deal with those additional daily things especially the inflexible routine jobs tend to have...I bet my mom would hate that doctor!

So, four years after my coma, know that I am no longer suicidal and though sometimes I get severely depressed I remember that there is always light at the end of the tunnel, always something to smile at or giggle about ahead... in spite of the bad that does and will come. I am glad I'm here to enjoy the good things like seeing my sons grow and change, witnessing their accomplishments and have happy times themselves. I'd rather not have the BI impairments but in spite of them I am more mature in myself and have experienced some greater periods of peacefullness and comfort than before I had them. Finally I can even sometimes joke and find humor in it...like someone who says "senior moment" when they mess us...we say "BI" and chuckle, not to make fun of it but to have fun with it. I do still go up and down, and sometimes miss the way things were before, but I know I can't turn back time, I can't change what has happened, I can only continue on into the future...so I acknowledge what I am, what I have and what I have experienced and move on because the only other option is to give up and wither away and to me that would be a great loss...and I hate losing!

I am what I am by the grace of God.

Email Donna