How my traumatic brain injury changed my life and my perspective on invisible illnesses

This First Person piece was written by Chandra Groves, who is a resident of Saskatoon and survivor of a head-on collision. 

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*Trigger warning* for those who have experienced loss or life-altering change as the result of a crash.

The last thing I remember is looking at my speedometer. It said 107 km/h. "The perfect speed," I thought to myself.

I was being cautious to help my friend and passenger feel safe. In the summer of 2018 she suffered a catastrophic loss as the result of a crash.

Then, nothing. Just darkness.

I learned later that over the next hour local first responders entered my vehicle and stabilized us by holding our necks in place while keeping us strapped into our seats.

My next memory is of looking at my windshield. It was shining with broken glass and too close to me.

My steering wheel was bent at 45 degrees and folded into what used to be my dash. I looked at my friend next to me, she was covered in blood.

I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't feel anything.

I closed my eyes again.

We were in a highway speed collision. An oncoming vehicle crossed over the centre line and hit us head-on.

I vaguely recall being extracted from the remnants of my vehicle when the ambulance arrived. I screamed in pain. I didn't know where the pain was coming from, only that it was excruciating. Then there was a hand, the most soft, comforting, hand. It was a stranger who told me over and over again, "Everything is going to be OK, sweetie." I learned later that she was the first person on scene and responsible for calling 911.

I was strapped to a stretcher on the side of the road waiting to be loaded into an ambulance.