Poetry For Healing: Making Sense of a New World
May 22nd, 2020 was not a typical day. I was starting work late due to a routine doctors appointment and a post-op pet rabbit. I would end it in a hospital bed, with strict instructions not to move in case I ended up paralyzed.
May 22nd, 2020
Funny all the things that conspire to put us in that place at that time.
How did I end up there? Like many road crash survivors, my fate was sealed by the whim of a stranger. Someone ran a stop sign and I collided with their back door, coming to an abrupt stop from 100kmph. This particular driver admitted complete fault- they “thought they had time”. Following a CT scan, I was told that I had a bilateral C2 fracture. I was somewhat alarmed to discover that this particular break has a disturbing nickname… though it did inspire verse to reflect on the early stages of my recovery.
From The Hangman’s Fracture
…Words describe the challenge faced-Bilateral; lamina; non-displaced. Do I ignore the fear encased within the Hangman’s Fracture? Thunder clouds and freezing rain. A lighting bolt ignites my brain. Time to pop a pill again to quiet the Hangman’s Fracture. Take it slowly, day by day. Life is now more rest than play. ‘neath every thing I do or say lurks the Hangman’s Fracture.
The months passed and my fracture was healing well. Like so many other crash survivors, I had also suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI) and the affects of this remain to this day (now called Post Concussion Syndrome [PCS]). Unfortunately, many reading this will also be familiar with the flashbacks, disturbed sleep, anxiety and depression that all too often follows a collision. In August 2020 I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
P.T.S.D
Prior to said disaster, positive traits stood dominant. Pushing through sporadic dismays; past troubles, since departed. Path took sudden diversion–proclamation to stop? Disregarded! Powerful thud silenced drivers. Present times… somewhat different. Pills to soothe distress. Perceived threats seem devastating. Plans terminated; sleep disturbed. Painful triggers surface daily. Passionately tempestuous, shitty disposition-permanently temperamental. (Sometimes delightful). Psychiatrist testifies sombre diagnosis: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
The PTSD symptoms, combined with the sensory processing issues I experience as part of PCS, have made my return to driving one of the greatest challenges I have ever faced. Simply being in a car was excruciating.
Passenger
When you merged lanes without a backwards glance. I yelled and gave my driver quite the scare. When you did not give way as we advanced the tears rolled down my cheeks; you didn’t care. When you approached the roundabout at speed then didn’t stop; so we slammed on the brakes. I wanted to pursue you, shout and scream and punish you for all of your mistakes. When I become the passenger I try to keep myself together, slow my breaths. I know too well that none of you can drive. I hate the risks you take at my expense. Behind the fear and pain my anger lies. In truth, there’s only one whom I despise.
Three years post crash, I was given physical permission to begin driving and referred to a driving specialist occupational therapist- being in a dual controlled car is helping me rebuild my confidence around other drivers. This excerpt expresses the emotional tumult I experienced in my first lesson.
From Driving Sessions
…Excitement, terror; so strong, yet vulnerable-it was all too much and after my first session the tears flowed into my smile…
Turning my feelings into a project allows me to distance myself from a difficult situation. Then, once I have a piece I am proud of, I can go back and ‘feel’ it in a way that now makes sense. In this way, I have allowed myself to safely feel anger and despair as well as truly recognizing the magnitude of my victories. I have explored therapies, legal proceedings, career loss, changing relationships and sense of self. I found poetry so healing that I decided to publish a collection to help other survivors of this often isolating experience feel heard. This final poem is not in the book but it is dedicated to Crash Support Network community. I wish you all the best.
Car Crash Alumni
We are members of a club we never meant to join. Car crash alumni; a family of new souls in old bodies. Our community has no white picket fence but a chain-link of hands and hearts that have rebuilt lives after the same storm. We’ve picked our way through twisted metal on highways and dirt roads and crossed mountains and oceans to find ourselves, the survivors, here together.
Submitted by: By Catherine Hannah, Author and Crash Survivor
For more information on Catherine please visit: catherinehannahpoetry.com and follow her journey on Instagram at: catherinehannah.poetryandmusic.
This article is also featured in our 2024 Spring Issue of Sharing our Recovery.
[All poems copyright Catherine Hannah 2024]
The Crash Support Network is a unique one-of-a-kind website consisting of an online support group, a crash survivor blog, a quarterly newsletter, “Sharing Our Recovery” as well as highly informative articles. Our website is based on relationship-building and puts the needs of survivors first by creating a helpful resource for victims and survivors of motor vehicle crashes.
