My tweets

Nov. 17th, 2010 12:03 pm
franklanguage: (Default)
[personal profile] franklanguage

(no subject)

Date: 2010-11-23 05:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] franklanguage.livejournal.com
Unfortunately, I've gotten very mixed signals regarding my injury and recovery. At the time of my injury—1981—people were just beginning to survive brain injuries like mine, so rehabilitation was kind of a new field. I mean, it had been going on for over a hundred years—ICD on 23rd street was originally called "Institute for the Crippled and Disabled" and was founded to help the WWI vets—but rehabilitation had been very nuts-and-bolts: learn to walk with crutches, learn to use a wheelchair, and so on. I had the impression that the "professionals"—and I use that term loosely—were flying by the seat of their pants.

I was considered "high-functioning" but I was considered retarded. I was sent to Rusk to a training program designed to prep people with disabilities for jobs within the NYU hospital complex. I also had been smart pre-injury but now was on the other side—welcome to the world of Lowered Expectations. It's depressing and I've generally adopted the strategy that if something I'm trying to achieve in life doesn't work out, to try a different direction.

As a result, I've had more psychiatric treatment than neurological. At the end of ten years of running from shrink to shrink—and for a few months being hospitalized—I pronounced myself "cured" because I was so sick of seeing social worker after social worker who didn't have a clue. (I had begun my journey seeing psychiatrists and neuropsychiatrists, and I honestly don't think I would have been worse off in the long run with no psychotherapy at all.)
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