sarah's story

My husband was hit by a car while riding his bicycle in our neighborhood. It was November, and in New Hampshire, it gets dark early in November. Apparently, the 16-year-old boy who hit him never saw him. He had whiplash, a concussion, torn ligaments in his foot, and a broken elbow. His helmet was ripped from his head, and, in places, the hair was sheared off. He lost consciousness and doesn't remember the accident, but he has regular nightmares that wake us up.

Since that cold day, we have had neurologists tell my husband that he will never be who he was; we've had psychologists offer to help him file for disability; we've had numerous specialists involved to help with headaches, PTSD, and a wide range of other symptoms resulting from the accident.

Early on, I realized I needed to advocate for his care. I needed to push back when so-called professionals and other authority figures gave excuses and dead ends. Today, I question everything. I want to know why something is being suggested, why it should help, and what others have experienced. I've learned to seek my answers and ask for help when needed.