A Remarkable Recovery
By Craig W. Meyers
As an 18-year-old pre-journalism freshman at WVU, I visited my hometown of Washington, Pennsylvania, for an extended Presidents’ Day weekend. During this break, I attended a party where some underage drinking occurred.
When we left the party, the car that I was a riding in smashed into a telephone pole, leaving me unconscious and trapped for 45 minutes. After firemen sawed off the roof of the car, I was transported by ambulance to Washington Hospital. I was ultimately lifeflighted to Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh.
I was diagnosed with a severe closed-head injury, resulting in me being comatose for three-and-a-half weeks. I suffered from a comminuted fracture of my right femur that severed my femoral artery and had an avulsion of my ear on the same side. Right-sided hemiparesis caused paralysis of my dominant hand and a slight limp.
In addition to images of my childhood and of past events being totally obliterated, I forgot how to walk, talk, write, eat, stand up, sit down, climb up and down steps, and swim, as this critical brain trauma not only left me battling at one time with an impulsive condition where one cannot control their actions, but intellectually caused me to operate within the mildly mentally retarded range. Once having double vision and experiencing long-lasting tinnitus, my senses were affected as well.
Based on the post-traumatic cognitive symptoms of my brain injury, predictions abounded from various professionals at Harmarville Rehabilitation Center’s brain trauma unit where I was a patient for five months. They said my attempts at returning to WVU would be a failing endeavor. I had other ideas, however.
Over the course of ten months, a tutor qualified to work on my symptomatic cognitive deficits did such a masterfully rapid job that I was able to attend summer school at the local Washington and Jefferson College. Although I possessed a newfound confidence, questions still lingered about a successful readmission to WVU because I had no retrievable recollection of ever being at the school before. So I visited WVU, hoping that I would remember something.
The one-hour drive down I–79 is a scenic one during the autumn season, as a kaleidoscope of color submerges a traveler. Not remembering this powerful beauty is a testament of just how tattered a memory can become following a severe head injury. The fervor spawned by the inability to recall this spectacular view quickly dissipated when images feared to be forever lost arose from the ashes of misplaced comprehension. Eight months may not seem long in the general scope of things, but when an eternity’s worth of trauma has occurred within this time frame, it can seem never-ending.
A monumental joy arose within me when I recognized exit 155 as where we got off the highway to get to the Evansdale campus. In all its majestic beauty, I saw the Coliseum to the right, as if I had never left that fateful February weekend that changed my life forever. Ecstatic that visions from the past were being awakened, dad made a left onto Patteson Drive before driving to University Avenue where my freshman roommate awaited our arrival, preparing for what would be a memory-jarring tour of WVU.
It hadn’t yet been a year since we lived in room 4012, but I had no prior mental picture of the Towers dormitory until I was actually looking at it. What were once hidden shadows had become illuminated, as I was able to recapture the fleeting features of my experience here. Exiting the dorm, I received stares from the flock of students who were flying out of the PRT, as they took note of my patched glasses and the way I flopped my foot down and dragged it atop the many stairs leading to the PRT station.
We got off the PRT at the Beechurst station where I crossed the walking bridge to Stansbury Hall. I had no previous visual memory of attending classes at the surrounding Armstrong, Hodges, and Eiesland halls. After hiking up to Woodburn Circle, I recognized Martin and Woodburn halls. Across the street, I knew I was looking at the bookstore and Mountainlair. A little further to the right, I could almost envision Wise Library sandwiched between Clark and White Halls.
With the sense of my once being at WVU returning and having just triumphantly battled a near-fatal disability that characteristically does not allow its victims to return to college, I took one final look at the students bustling about the main campus, and never felt more confident that I would rejoin them.
As a returning student at WVU, the compassion I received from both staff and the student body alike assisted me in the attainment of not only a bachelor of arts in psychology, but also a master of science in rehabilitation counseling. This understanding, coupled with my own diligent efforts and contributions from countless others, allowed me to make an unbelievable recovery. I have been the subject of many newspaper articles and appeared on Pittsburgh regional television five times. Working as a mental health therapist, writing an autobiography, and warning students of the dangers of drinking and driving could not have been possible had it not been for the spirit and talents of those who make wild, wonderful, West Virginia their academic home.
Against All Odds (A Look Through the Eyes of a Survivor), an autobiography by Craig W. Meyers, may be ordered/reviewed either by accessing the book’s Web site: www.atlasbooks.com/marktplc/00824.htm or calling BookMasters, Inc. (1-800-247-6553).