I often think about my life, and how many parts of it have changed dramatically and forever. Once I had dealt with the initial shock of my accident, I knew I had to recover some quality of life for myself. My first attempt at returning to work failed completely. Once I grieved that failure, I turned to my social life. That too was riddled with problems. Somehow my injury had made me a pariah amongst my friends and peers. I had an injury they didn't understand, couldn't see, and failed to relate to. Without work, without friends, my last hope was to recover some relationship with my horse and my regain my physical prowess I had been so lucky to have experienced prior to my injury.

This undertaking was riddled with expectations, disappointments, and challenges beyond my wildest dreams. Through a few years of rudimentary experiments, I was able to recover enough coordination and balance control to sit on my horse, learn to direct him again, and make feeble attempts at experiencing my dearest enjoyment.

This movement toward therapeutic riding, however, came at a high price. Vic's Spy had been a successful Eventer, a winning second level Dressage horse and had some tremendous training behind him. Now, Vic had to learn that his rider was delicate, he had to be very careful in his movements, and be tuned in to every shift in weight so he could stop at any moment. This changed him into a careful, caring therapeutic horse. I was amazed at his intuitive responses but saddened by his inability to run like the wind as we had done in the past. I missed for him and myself the independence, the strength, and the ability to do what we had been trained to do. Every step we took forward was simple, careful, and very slow.

Sadly, although well cared for and worked by my trainer on my days off, Vic could no longer be Vic. Worse yet, I could no longer be the "me" I remembered. We had been working at our slow but progressive attempt at Dressage based therapeutic riding, when my husband got news he was being transferred to California. He was to relocate as soon as our big country home was sold in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was shocked by the news and quite afraid to leave my friends and trainer and trust anyone else with such a potentially dangerous recovery therapy. Against all medical advice, we had proceeded with this work, and now I was faced with finding someone to pick up where we were going to leave off.

After all, I had started back to riding by being lifted out of my wheelchair on to my horse. I had been led around on a longe line for a year. We only worked within a closed arena for my safety, and I had a trainer with the patience of Jobe working with me whenever I could muster the energy. How would I ever replace that? Where would I ever find a riding environment that would understand me, be kind to me, and except me for what I was and wanted to be?

I began my hunt by calling California Dressage Society for trainer recommendations. I called friends in California for names of barns and trainers, and I even got a California phone book to find horse facilities in the Sacramento area and started calling them. Knowing my situation was unusual and may be a liability for someone to take on, I ignorantly gave everyone a chance to consider my request. I was met with indifference, rudeness, superiority, many responses of surprise and some insults. Messages were left unanswered, my requests were not passed on, and appointments for return phone calls were not kept. Mike and I decided we must travel to California and meet with as many people as possible before we considered taking the transfer or facing his unemployment.

We set off for California, hoping to find a trainer and a facility that would be the right fit for me. If we could find the fit, we would have an idea of where to build a house, and whether to take the transfer. We went from place to place, each one more depressing than the last, and met some of the rudest, most unyielding trainers I had ever come in contact with. Feeling vulnerable as it was, it was discouraging, seemed hopeless, and we were getting very frightened for my future. We picked up horse booklets at feed stores, took pages from the phone books, drove from barn to barn and grew more disappointed at every stop. We did notice that most stops had one thing in common. The name Pam Park came up over and over. She was said to be the trainer who took very few students, who was probably one of the best in the area, surely would not take me but may know someone who would. Mike and I came to make Pam Park our final destination before giving up. By chance, at the last barn we looked at, we met Greg White (a farrier) who worked with her, knew where she was, and drew us a map. We were off to Blue Ribbon Barn! I will never forget driving up and having the feeling that my heart was already breaking. It seemed so impossible anymore. We drove in, walked into the barn and met her daughter, who was tacking her horse and waiting for her mother's arrival. We started to speak and I told her what I was hoping to find. She lit up when she spoke of her mother, told us about Pam's own accident and recovery, and shared with us Pam's teaching style and encouraged us to wait and talk to her. I think she even offered to call her Mom and tell her we were there and wanted to meet her.

From the moment we met, she looked me in the eye, listened to what I had been through and was looking for, and never made me feel that my dreams were unattainable. I kept thinking it was too comfortable, and perhaps I was not clear enough about how far I had failed in my abilities to ride Dressage ever again. YET, in answer to my question as to whether she would consider taking me on as a student, without hesitation she promptly said "yes." My heart sailed and I could tell my husband felt the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. I remember I kept asking him if I was clear just how disabled I was, was I clear that I would never compete again……..I was just so sure I had not made my situation clear to Pam. After all, why would she have agreed to take me on?

We went home to Utah on top of the world, only to have our big house sit on the market for nearly a year! I kept asking Mike what would I do if we moved out there and she was no longer teaching? What if Pam forgets me? What if, what if, what if………………...

We just had to hope that it would work out and the house would sell. We finally received an offer and it was time to build a house and get in touch with her. We flew out, drove up to Blue Ribbon, and saw a For Sale sign on the property. My eyes welled up and my heart sank. I think it was someone named Shirley I ran into who asked if she could help me. I told her I had planned on moving my horse here and training with Pam but now I didn't know what to do. She said, "Oh you'll be fine, Pam plans on taking us all with her and here is the list. Let's see if your name is here." AND, there was Vic and Kathi right on the list!

We came out the next day, waited until Pam was through teaching and talked to her again. She remembered me, she still had plans to take me with her (where ever that would be), and all was going to be fine. Mike and I went home to arrange Vic's transportation, the movers to move our furniture, and we were going to be part of Park Place after all.

I will never forget moving Vic in, filling my tack locker, and getting started with Pam. She trained Warmbloods, I had brought in a new spooky TB, and he was so stiff and locked up Pam thought he had Navicular. After a few weeks of riding him, Pam told me it was time for me to get on. I too was stiff, could not remember any real Dressage aids, rode with my knees in a life saving position around his withers and went home everyday thinking Pam would call me and cancel the whole arrangement.

Yet everyday, she patiently worked on one small piece of my injury's puzzle and got me moving again. I had to relearn soft hands, longer reins, and how to make our bodies move correctly together. I never knew that the words "tap, tap, under, under" could instill so much fear in me. My body had forgotten those moves, I was embarrassed by how much I could no longer do, yet she continued to take me one step at a time. Pam walked beside us, watched out for things that would startle us, and kept on working to make my body move. She taught me to sit up, sit back, look forward and not at the distractions, massage the rein to bring his head down and on the bit, and to not give up. I drove home everyday knowing I was learning again, my body had huge challenges in front of it, and I was learning to drive in a strange city! I was relearning so many things I had lost since my accident. It has been 4 years since my serious TBI and I have been able to change so much in my life. I can do the multitasking required in Dressage, I can ride my horse safely without a trainer hovering next to me. I can accomplish more tasks and processes at once while feeling more steady, more confident, and more proud. Everyone says I am more fluid in how I move, my speaking is more natural, and my challenges are much less obvious. I feel so blessed that I have had the chance to experience this type of therapy and have had the support of so many genuine, kind people. I may never work again, but the quality of my life has increased beyond my wildest dreams

Everyone walks through mine fields in their lives. What sets people apart: is how many of the mines explode, the ferocity of the explosion or explosions and the permanence of the damage the explosion creates. Brain injuries are very similar to this scenario. As such, we can only control the varying degree of personal damage. It is not possible to get hit without retaining a scar, but it is up to us whether the scar is a festering sore or only a memory and learning tool. Moving on, after an explosion, is the only way to survive. Surviving, with the memories of the tragedy, can only make us healthier and stronger.

After my brain injury in September of 1996, I discover a way to help myself cope with my life altering injury. I found I had sustained so much damage to my brain that I would very likely never recover my old life. Once I became lucid, I found I needed to take small portions of my past interests and abilities and find out which area I could focus on to give my life meaning again. It was destructive to give up, and equally as destructive to frustrate myself attempting to recover skills my brain injury would not let me recover. I was an artist, I was an executive, I was an equestrian, and I was a college student. It was highly unlikely I could pull together all of those areas to my past standards. So, one by one, I attempted each area, compromised the end result, and examined it to size up my new abilities, my satisfaction and my joy of accomplishment.

What Happened to Me:

I was at the top of my game, I loved being "in control", and I had the job of a lifetime. I was in a horse show, jumping my horse, Vic's Spy, over a jump during practice...WHEN...I had a horrible accident and my life changed forever in 5 minutes

· I was unconscious
· I had serious skull fractures
· I had blood from my nose and my ears
· My husband thought he had lost me when I left in the Life Flight helicopter

After a month in a coma, and coma states, I found...

· I couldn't walk anymore - I was too weak and dizzy and had Ataxia
· I couldn't hear very well -I lost my middle ear in one ear and had mastoid fluid built up in the other
· I couldn't speak over a whisper - my vocal cords had been paralyzed for a time
· I couldn't see very well - my optic nerve had been damaged
· My world was spinning out of control - I had lost most of my balance center
· I couldn't eat or drink regular food without choking - I had Dysphasia and as I was recovering from these challenges...
· I had a Brain Stem Stroke...which damaged my brain stem even more

I now needed to find a part of my old life that I could develop into a focus for tomorrow. I attempted my pen and ink drawing, only to find I lacked the eye-hand coordination. I changed my focus and found a way to express myself through cut paper and fabric. The end results were somewhat primitive and didn't satisfy me. I tried to return to work, only to find out that I lacked the stamina and the stability to return to my past position or any position for that matter. I returned to college and was able to complete my last year by doing it through Independent Study. School was good for my processing skills but created a stress that brought on Migraines and set-backs. While I tried all of these areas, I also returned to the Riding School where I boarded my horse and studied Dressage. It was the love I felt for my horse, the feeling I had when I touched him and the tack at the barn, and the compassion of my ex trainer that brought me to understand this was going to be the small part of my life I would recover.

When I went back to my riding school I wanted to rebuild my relationship with my horse and the people that I cared about. Every day that I could force myself to do something with my horse was a day I was not in front of the TV. Every attempt made the next one less stressful and more enjoyable. I found I had something to look forward to, which gave my life meaning. I would go weeks where I was unable to get to the school, but I always had that new goal in my mind. Picking up a brush, feeding him a carrot and finally getting in the saddle gave me a sense of accomplishment, joy, and returned some meaning to my life. What I had been was no longer a measure of who I had become. I found by taking a small piece of my old life and making it the focus of my new life gave me a reason to keep going. I had to be patient with my recovery and accept a new, different level of accomplishment with my horse. I had to do this without selling each accomplishment short. I had to accept that the new me was just DIFFERENT, but not LESS OF A PERSON. I had to accept that what was inside my heart for my horse was much more important than how quickly I moved or turned my head. I needed to accept there is accomplishment in not giving into a tragedy. I needed to accept that I was still liked by my friends and loved by my family, whether I was my old athletic, spontaneous self or the new careful, less spontaneous me. RIDING MY HORSE AGAIN HAS TAUGHT ME I AM NO LONGER DEFINED BY THE JOB I HOLD OR THE SPORT I COMPETE IN BUT BY THE KIND OF PERSON I HAVE BECOME

When I first approached Cindy about riding my horse, she instinctively knew we could work something out. She mixed her deep knowledge of Dressage training with her equally deep sensitivity to help me. She helped me find a way back to a relationship with my horse. Long before any of us knew about Therapeutic Riding and NARHA, Cindy found a way to help me through a process that saved my soul and my joy. For nearly two years, Cindy has taken me from a wheelchair to an ambulatory rider. I remember her giving me the task of cleaning all of the school's tack as a way to "earn" two 30 minute lessons every week. We used that time to let me experience the feeling of my horse's movements in the saddle. After quitting because I couldn't sustain my energy, Cindy welcomed me back months later with never a mention of my disappearance. It was at this time she began by lifting me into the saddle and giving me simple tasks on my horse. Over time we have progressed to where I can get my horse tacked, get mounted , sit on my horse in the right position and ride with some authority. Cindy has demonstrated concern for my safety as well as concern for my pride by taking the simplest tasks on horseback and making them challenging and enjoyable. If I needed to quit for weeks at a time, I was never made to feel unreliable and was always welcomed back when I was ready. My handicap has never been mentioned or used as against me. All of my experiences in therapeutic riding have been met with support and humor. Along with the kindness and patience Cindy has demonstrated there is the great atmosphere of the school itself. The clientele has always been supportive, kind and encouraging both before my accident and after. I am treated like my old self; I never feel self-conscious, and am privately told others admire me for what I do. I don't have to feel frustrated with my simple riding skills because any accomplishment is encouraged and I can see the dramatic changes in my abilities to process, gain strength and grow confidence. Not being able to do difficult Dressage moves is not a problem for me because I have regained a small piece of my life that gives me endless pleasure.

I think disabled people need the joy of an animal, the patience of a supportive staff and the atmosphere of an accepting environment to help them cope and live with their disabilities.

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