There but for the grace of [insert deity/force here]...

The whole thing with Natasha Richardson's accident (and the several other reported case stories of epidural hematoma that, predictably, appeared in the news for a couple of weeks after that) has really brought some of the stuff back to me.

Mostly I have no recollection of the accident. I *think* I have a vague impression of being sort of slumped down, nose to nose with the radio console, and mumbling my phone number to someone. Also, I think I have a brief recollection of being maybe in the ER and complaining that my head hurt and being afraid to go to sleep.

Jon remembers that I was kind of disoriented when he got to the ER, and that I didn't really seem to understand when he told me about Hannah's death and the accident. He said I kept asking him "Are you sure we can stay together?" I don't know what my thoughts could have been at the time, although I'm guessing maybe I just couldn't process it.

He said they had advised him not to tell me about Hannah before I went into surgery, but I am glad he did what HE needed to do about that. I can't imagine how it would have been for him not to tell me; like he was all alone with it.

So they gave him a ton of forms to sign, and apparently made a very big point of telling him that they could not give him any idea of how I would come through the surgery -- that I may be just fine, or I could be completely disabled, or brain-damaged on maybe a 5yo level. If I survived. He had to sign the forms quickly because I guess I started to deteriorate rapidly (going from being more or less lucid to starting to lose consciousness) and then I went right into surgery.

My mind tends to skitter away from the thought of what he must have endured at that point, to find out within a 10-minute space of time that Hannah was dead, Emily seriously injured, and that I might very well die or be disabled. Luckily, the rector from our church was there, and I guess they had a social worker there too. I think my mom got there at some point in the afternoon, but I don't know for sure.

My mom's version of events is pretty similar to Jon's (probably the one time in history that that will ever happen!). She said that I came pretty close to dying, I suppose because I started that decline just before they got me to surgery. She is convinced that if we had been further from the hospital, or had not had such expert care once there (the U of M medical center vs., say, Youngstown quacks) I would not be here now.

I read a number of the articles about Natasha Richardson's accident and death and memorial service, and I remember feeling so devastated on her mother's behalf, especially. I never thought I'd have something in common with Vanessa Redgrave, and I sure wish that if I did, it would have been something other than losing our daughters. My heart breaks for Natasha's sons and her husband, too, but there was something about her mother's face in one of the photos; I just wished I could have reached out to her. And I felt almost angry that I got to survive, but someone else didn't, and she could so easily have been saved.

Anyway, as you can tell since you're reading this and I'm writing this in a more or less coherent fashion, I came out OK.

At least I think so.

I do notice some changes, but nothing that I could attribute specifically to the injury.

During the first year after the accident, I had a lot of short-term memory lapses. I also found that I couldn't multi-task or process multiple streams of information, which had been a strong point of mine before.

On the other hand, during that same year I was: grieving for Hannah, helping Emily heal from her wounds, standing by Jon during his job search, learning that we were going to move, getting the house ready to sell, leaving our home, moving to a totally new area, and helping Jon adjust to not just a new job, but what amounted to a career change.

So what with dealing with all those significant life stresses/events, who knows?

I do remember shortly after we moved here, Jon was putting together a set of exams. He wanted to make four separate sets in which the questions/answers were shuffled, in order to cut down on cheating. He asked me if I could help him do that, and I offered to because in the past, it was the kind of thing I could do very quickly and easily -- far more so than he could.

But I got started on it and realized I was totally confused, and just couldn't process what I was trying to do. I felt really agitated and upset, because I was not used to having any difficulty with that kind of thing. In the end, we did it together, but it took me far longer than it would have before the accident.

I do think I have struggled a lot harder with depression since then, and I'm not altogether sure there isn't a physiological reason along with the obvious situational things. I notice also that it's still harder for me to stay on top of just basic organizational functions -- the combination of Emily's school stuff, regular things like bills, housework, anything long-term -- I seem to be somewhat paralyzed. I don't know how to overcome it, and it doesn't help that right now Jon is absolutely slaving away to make sure he gets the tenure requirements fulfilled.

And I do think maybe I'm in a new stage -- I really do have two KIDS now. This is something new, because the last time I had two, Emily was still really a baby (18mo); where now Max is over 2yo and more verbal (barely) and not just the baby along for the ride. We're dealing with the two different appetites/preferences at meals, the thing where if one kid has something the other one HAS to have it, the juggling of things appropriate for one age or another. With Emily that wasn't an issue, though I could see we were headed that way.