A medical, legal, and
informational resource
for persons dealing with
traumatic brain injury.

STORIES OF AMAZING RECOVERIES

Submitted By: Kim Miller

On January 17, 2004 our 5 almost 6 year old son, Trace, suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. We were snow skiing in Winter Park, Colorado. He was in a half-day private lesson.

First day, first run. My husband and I followed the instructor on the lift up the slope where we would discuss meeting up before lunch. We were unaware that the choices on that slope were 1) ski down a blue intermediate slope 2) traverse across the blue to the green beginner family area. My little boy was a little nervous about going off with someone he didn't know. My last words to him as he started to follow her were, "Don't worry, Buddy. She is going to take good care of you." I stood and watched as the instructor told my kindergartener to "follow her tracks." He did two little turns, then started going straight down the mountain. This was the third year we had skiied with him. The year before the teacher skiied backwards in front of him. This instructor ended up behind him and let him get completely away from her. She did not catch up with him or knock him down. At one point, we saw him squat and thought he would fall down. However, I guess he regained his balance and stood back up. At that point, he disappeared out of our sight. I thought I saw him back in the lift line (still halfway up the mountain). My husband knew something was wrong. He took off as fast as he could, and I followed. We got to the bottom of that slope and saw my son crumpled unconscious in the ski instructors arms. He had hit head on (unhelmeted) a metal electrical control panel box that controls the ski lifts. This box was in the middle of the slope with a rope tied around it and little flags tied to the rope.

About 12 ski patrol people swarmed on him, cutting off his jacket and getting him on a board. One of these ski patrol volunteers happened to be an emergency room doctor. He straddled Trace on the board and gave him oxygen as a ski patrol volunteer pulled him down the mountain. They stopped occassionally to make sure he was still breathing. They got him down so fast on the board, that a nurse broke her arm trying to catch it. My husband followed, and I was put on the back of a snowmobile.

We ran into the clinic at the base of the mountain and learned that a Flight for Life helicoptor was on the way.

We were also met by Risk Management! Nice, huh?!

He was air lifted to Denver Children's Hospital. They would not allow parents in the helicoptor because of the seriousness and hysteria. My husband and I ran to our car and drove the 2 hours from Winter Park to Denver. We made it, winding through the mountains with no cell phone coverage to find out if he had made it there alive, in 1 hour. The whole way I kept telling myself that it was probably just a cut on his forehead, but I knew deep down that it was way worse.

At the hospital we were immediately met by a nuerosurgeon who told us Trace would be going into surgery right away. We were allowed to see him briefly before they took him. His head was about the size of a basketball, his eyes were purple and bulging out.

Following surgery, the neurosurgeon told us his skull was "broken into a zillion pieces." He had a severe injury to his front right lobe of the brain and some damage to the left side, as well. His eye orbits were shattered and his tear drains were destroyed. He had a broken femur (overlapping by 2 inches) and broken tibia. He had a laceration in his liver and air coming out of his lungs.

He went post surgery to icu with an icp monitor or "bolt" in his head to monitor pressure. His leg was just wrapped in a bandage awaiting stabilization of the brain before they could operate on his leg. We waited for 4 days to see if he would live. We were in shock. Miraculously, and I will use this word more than once, his brain swelling was not great. He remained in a drug induced coma for 10 days. He would follow commands such as wiggle your toes and squeeze my hand. During this time they put rods in his leg. On the tenth day, he was extubated. They did not know if his vocal cords were paralyzed because in the emergency situation they were in, the people at the ski clinic had to use an adult size tube to intubate. He began speaking a little, and again we were grateful.

As soon as he was awake, therapists started coming into the room and working with him. I remember when OT came in and lift Trace out of his bed. They sat him on a ball and pulled him up to a desk. He was slumped over with little body control. It was devestating to see him like this. They told him to draw a circle. He did. They told him to draw a square. He did. They told him to write his name, and I cried tears of joy when he wrote "Trace".

Trace was moved to inpatient rehab within the hospital. He received intense speech, physical and occupational therapy twice a day. He had to relearn everything - using the bathroom, eating, brushing his teeth, walking,...

After 26 days, we flew back home to Houston with 14 moving boxes of gifts from family and friends. He returned to his private Catholic school in March and by May was going a half day. He continued outpatient therapy at TIRR in Houston doing speech, physical and occupational therapy for several months.

We found a wonderful child phychologist with special training in brain injuries. In April he had a plate screwed into his eye socket to reconstruct the orbit. He had the rods removed from his leg. He was able to walk without his little red walker.

By the end of the summer, Trace was ready to go on to first grade, so he would not be held back. The main residual effect Trace had was emotional lability. He would for the most part be able to "hold it all together" at school, but at home had meltdowns, temper tantrums, excessive crying and silliness.

The doctors had told us in Denver that he would have a personality change. It may be subtle enough that only people who know him as well as we do might notice. He would not be the same person that he was before. This made no sense to us at the time. What were they talking about?! Well, now 4 years later, we understand. It is amazing how the neuropsych. testing they did at the hospital and the predictions they made even so soon after injury are all coming to fruition.

Pre and post injury, Trace is very bright with an above average IQ of 118. He has turned out to exceed even the best case scenario that they painted for us. He has up until now, been able to keep up in an excellerated and challenging Catholic private school (26 kids in his class) making A's and B's. However, he works at least twice as hard as any of his peers. He has 2 tutors and a weekly psychologist. I am a former teacher and get up with him about 3 days a week at 5:30 a.m. to catch up on work. He has high anxiety because he is competitive by nature and wants to be just like his peers.

It is both a blessing and a curse that he appears so normal. On one hand, it is great that people think he is just like any other little boy. But, on the other hand, because he appears so "normal" people tend to have expectations that are very difficult for him to live up to. His self esteem has suffered greatly.

We are looking at pulling him out of school next year and moving him to a private school for children with learning differences. There are 6 children to a class with highly trained teachers for children with special needs. We are hoping that these specially trained teachers will be able to "figure out how he works" and devise a plan to help him be succussful, catch him up and teach him to be a self-advocate. Then, hopefully he will either be able to return to the school he is currently at or go on to high school and be succussful. We fully expect him to go to a good college, have a family, friends and pursue a career that makes him happy.

Trace plays baseball, basketball and is active in Cub Scouts. He is a great little golfer and placed four times in tournaments last summer. He plays the drums really well and has made his school talent show 3 years in a row.

There is so much more to our story. However, one of the lessons to be learned is the importance of wearing a helmet. No one at the resort gave us a helmet or suggested he should be wearing one. I should have known better. I just thought he would be safe on a "bunny slope" with a private teacher. What were the chances he would hit a tree, much less a metal box in the middle of the slope? I had on a cute little jester snow hat with bells. I guess I did not know better.

Trace is a precious little boy who has miraculously survived and excelled. He has more courage and strength than anyone I have ever known. With God's help and the guidance of caring and trained people in his life, we know he will continue to soar. You want to ask yourself, "Why?" Sometimes I feel like so much was taken away from him, and I have to remind myself of the miracle of life and the second chance we were all given.