🔞5EX🔞

Killer shot!

Nerves have always been my enemy. Every significant event in my life has caused the same physical symptoms, my first day of primary school being the earliest occasion that I can recollect. I've spoken to friends who don't remember any of their first day of school and they are always amazed by the detail of my recall.
My mum has always been my greatest supporter in everything and that day was no exception. I remember very little about the start of the day, brief flashes, snapshots of showering, eating my favourite breakfast, and the enormous smile on my face as I was presented with what I thought were the most beautiful pair of claret coloured Mary Janes the world had ever seen.
My clearer memories began on our walk through the quiet streets, a ten minute activity that would see me safely delivered into the playground of the tiny village school. We had just picked up the baby mum minded for her friend and she was telling me how proud she was of me, how brave she thought I was. I was too obsessed with my new shoes to listen to much of what she was saying, watching the beautiful dance of the reflections on them with awe, my head never lifting, .... they were so shiny, I really loved them!

"Sydney! Sweetheart, are you ok, you're unusually quiet. Do you feel well?" She worried, feeling my forehead.
I hummed in reply, far too engrossed in the developing love affair with my gorgeous new footwear for conversation!
Reminding me to ' use my words' and not to bombinate she continued to talk. Mum made sure to use a new word everyday, telling me what they meant and teaching me to pronounce the more tricky ones, which were mostly all of them because I was only 5 years old. It's fair to say that my love of all things language has come from her. My desire to continue to learn new words now taking me all over the world with my little book of language!
I paid more attention to the rest of mums chatter because I felt naughty for not listening before. Throughout my entire life I have always had an overwhelming need to please her and I think it is rooted in this next moment.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, but the after effects have remained, every second of everyday since.
While we walked Mum was telling me all about my future and how amazing it would be. She described my wonderful life as a successful journalist, wife to a loving, handsome husband and mother to an unspecified number of beautiful children. All I had to do was pay attention, to everything.... sounds, smells, sights, words, and I couldn't fail. That all sounded so marvellous to my 5 year old 'I believe in Fairies' self that I jumped up and down cheering as we crossed the road, twisting my ankle as I landed because my shoe was a size too big, so they'd last longer apparently. I cried in pain as I crumpled into a heap, salty tears stinging my eyes already.
Mum now says her next decision has been the source of many nights awake, but she made the best choice she could in that moment. She rushed across the road and put the brakes on the pram, securing the baby on the pavement behind a parked car then dropping my book bag and lunchbox to return to pick me up.
I can remember mum running toward me with her arms outstretched, the look of worry on her face instantaneously becoming a mask of sheer horror as her eyes were drawn behind me by a loud rumbling.
She ran and scooped me up into her arms mid stride, winding me as she knocked into me so hard. She let out an ear piercing scream and we both fell to the ground, the back of my head connecting heavily with the tarmac, mum silent and unmoving on top of me. The last things I heard before darkness came was a loud screeching sound, a deafening crash ..............and then a shrill scream!

I never had the chance to wear my beautiful shoes again after that day!

I spent the following eight months in hospital recovering from the after effects of the closed traumatic brain injury I suffered when I hit the road.
An 'Acute Intracranial subdural haematoma'. A fancy way of describing a collection of blood trapped somewhere within the head that compresses the brain, bruising it and causing increasing damage until the swelling either subsides or is relieved surgically. Due to my age the doctors took the educated gamble that my body may recover well on its own with just a little time and a lot of monitoring, reluctant to drill into my head if possible, the risk of infection raised in this scenario.
Mum tells me I remained unconscious for 16 days. Sixteen days which changed our lives. Sixteen days that changed me.
I recovered fully physically with no lasting damage or different abilities after relearning to walk and speak properly with the help of speech therapy and intensive physio. Again my youth assisted with my recovery.
My emotional recovery wasn't so full.
The frontal lobe of my brain had been severely compressed which has left me with impulse control issues, anger management troubles, very disturbed sleep patterns and heightened emotional perceptions and responses.
It actually explains a lot about me but it's not something I share with many others. As soon as you mention that you've had a brain injury people often immediately write you off as incapable, unintelligent and needy, too much effort to get to know.