It’s been a year of painted brains, painted masks showing the experience of injured brains, and no change. Awareness gets you nowhere, it seems. It’s been a year of screaming for help, giving up, and only then getting effective reading comprehension restoration and grief therapy. The irritating reality-denying be-positive messaging finally stopped, and the healing effects of getting the crucial help I’ve been seeking for my reading for almost two decades began.
I wish though I hadn’t had to yell and beg for the help I needed over and over and over and over. I wish people had had the courage and stamina to support me from the start in my recovery. I wish health care professionals had the excitement in their hearts to ditch the neglectful standard medical care of brain injury and innovate so as to give innocent people their lives back.
I hate brain injury. I hate that I had to pay the price of being traumatized to get the effective treatments and support I needed. Why are people so loathe to help the injured?
