Portrait: Laura
Aged 33, I was hit by a racing bike that skipped the lights whilst I was crossing the road. I was almost home when it happened. I remember recognising that an impact was imminent and seeing the white of the rider's eyes. After hitting my head, I only recall being picked out of the road by a stranger; the rider was gone.
A little bit about Laura
At aged 33, I was hit by a racing bike that skipped the lights whilst I was crossing the road. I was almost home when it happened. I remember recognising that an impact was imminent and seeing the white of the rider's eyes. After hitting my head, I only recall being picked out of the road by a stranger; the rider was gone.
I was so embarrassed that I insisted the passing man who picked me up should leave me to walk the short distance to my home alone, but I was confused. He wanted to wait for an ambulance but I dismissed his help and hurried off, knowing something felt very off.
Getting a diagnosis
Later on, my boyfriend and I headed to A&E where I was diagnosed with a brain haemorrhage and bruising. My fairly new boyfriend at the time, now partner, had his first ever conversation with my parents back in Durham to tell them what had happened and that the night could be critical. Luckily, the bleed stopped and I was kept in for a few days before being released from hospital.
Seeking support and returning to work
Following this incident, I wasn't offered any rehabilitation; I was only told to check in with a GP, which I did proactively rather than an agreed follow-up. I remember feeling left adrift after what was a serious injury.
At the time, I had taken on a very demanding, high-pressure role as a civil servant which required working long hours. I was also completing my master's at the London School of Economics. I felt that taking on these two challenges, coupled with a recent recovery from brain injury, was validating and I was too proud to have my recent trauma acknowledged by my employer. There were good HR processes in place so should I have wished to access support; I’m sure it would have been granted but I didn't want to stigmatise myself or give the impression that I needed support.,
The burn out I eventually and inevitably experienced in doing it all after a serious accident made me quite unwell. To help me manage my anxiety, I sought support from a CBI therapist. Initially, I was a bit cynical about taking this step, but in retrospect, this was the best thing I could have done and I am now a firm advocate of it. The trauma caused by the brain injury also led me to a career change. I opted for a less stressful role, a kinder work environment and a job that allowed for a better work-life balance. Oh, and I got the tattoos I was initially hesitant about, and also made self-care a priority.
How the lack of guidance and support impacted me
The lack of follow-up checks and care offered following the brain injury has, I'm sure, contributed to often seeing myself downplay the seriousness of the situation.
I believe it has led me to push myself too hard too soon, to prove to myself and others that I have returned to good health.
I think any follow-up appointment with a health visitor, nurse or GP would have been useful. It could have given them the opportunity to see how I was recovering and to provide me with resources moving forward. I was discharged after a few days with just painkillers.
I remember feeling the lack of any further aftercare to be abrupt and lonely given the initial seriousness of my brain injury.
I saw a doctor proactively but only because I needed a GP note to be signed-off work for more than a week and that was the focus of the appointment that only lasted a few minutes.
Words of advice
I'm conscious that everyone's experience is different and that my advice is based on my own, but aside from paying the bills, I think most people want to find worth, credibility and a sense of position in whatever they do to make a living. That sense of value and worth becomes even more important when your confidence and sense of self has been undermined by being dazed and absent from living life to the full because of brain injury.
So, in the inevitable endeavour to show people a recovering version of yourself, don't forget that your traumatic experience is your permission to be kinder to yourself and share that with others. When you do, people are more likely to see you as a surviving hero rather than the broken victim you perceive they will.