Once again, world news has had an unusual correlation into my own life. Back in mid February, I posted a blog to one of my work sites about the movie, "Taken," starring Liam Neeson. I'd mentioned the kidnapping in the film as a good example of why home security is so important.
Now, I am mentioning Liam Neeson again in a completely different context. He has suffered a terrible loss in his personal life. His beautiful wife, Natasha Richardson has died from a head injury. On Monday, March 16, 2009 she fell a ski slope, hit her head, but seemed to be ok afterward. Since the fall seemed like a minor one, she didn't think she needed to go to the hospital. Unfortunately, if she had received medical care right away, the injury she suffered could have been treated. The type of blow to the head she sustained allows an artery to freely pump blood directly into the brain—it pools and creates pressure, which is not always fatal if it is quickly relieved. When this type of injury occurs, the victim can be lucid – walking and talking for a short period of time, which is why this syndrome is often called "Talk and Die." When the swelling and pressure between the brain and skull have nowhere to go, the victim will soon lose that cognizance and die without treatment.
In the first line of this blog, I said there was a correlation with my own life in this news. The Sunday before Natasha Richardson fell and hit her head on the Canadian ski slope, I hit my head on a metal bracket under a shelf in my home office. I was bent over a file cabinet and stood up too quickly before I'd cleared my way from under the shelves. At first, I was lucid and operated normally for a few moments, while complaining my head and neck hurt. Then, I started to say strange words like, "rainbow, bubblegum, and bologna," for no reason. When Nathan started asking if I was ok, I responded with nonsense statements. He asked me to recite the alphabet. I got stuck at E, F, G, H, and kept re-looping back to A.
He said someone, like the paramedics should come and take a look at me. I didn't want that, nor did I want to go to the hospital. My head wasn't working the way it should have though, and Nathan knew this. So, he made the call. He told the 911 operator the situation, and that he wasn't sure if I had to go to the hospital but he wanted someone to check me out. When the paramedics arrived, they asked him my normal range of intellect. He said, "this woman has two Master's degrees and right now, she can't say the alphabet." I remember hearing the alarm in his voice, which is I'm sure is accurate. However, my scrambled brain also distinctly remembers the two men discussing the topic of windsurfing, which never happened. The trip to the hospital and my time there was filled with more odd words like, "cocker spaniel, driftwood, tequila," and others I don't remember. I'm thankful they weren't embarrassing or swear words.
I've still got a pretty good sized lump on my head and a headache that seems to have taken up residence. The doctors said that just like any other part of the body, the brain can be bruised and it will take some time to heal. I have a mild concussion but no bleeding or swelling in my brain. My family and I are very grateful for that and for the fact that Nathan made the choice to call 911. If we'd have read about Natasha Richardson the day after my head injury without my having gone to the hospital, we'd probably be alarmed…freaking out is more like it.
Now, I can only say that my thoughts go out to Natasha Richardson's family. Liam Neeson has lost his wife, their children have lost their mother. Vanessa Redgrave has lost a daughter -- which every parent says is something that no parent should have to experience…children are supposed to go after the parents. Joely Richardson has lost her sister, and that's a pain I'll never know.
I'm so sorry Natasha Richardson didn't have her own Nathan with her the day she hit her head, to force her to get treatment. I'm sure if Liam had been with her…he would have. That's what our men do when we can't, or don't know how to do what is best for ourselves. Sometimes it turns out to be the right decision. If we've hit it lucky, he's the kind who steps in gently, then doesn't crow like a rooster from being right. I'm one of the lucky ones, because in my case, he's almost always spot on and he's never a cock about it.
Now, I am mentioning Liam Neeson again in a completely different context. He has suffered a terrible loss in his personal life. His beautiful wife, Natasha Richardson has died from a head injury. On Monday, March 16, 2009 she fell a ski slope, hit her head, but seemed to be ok afterward. Since the fall seemed like a minor one, she didn't think she needed to go to the hospital. Unfortunately, if she had received medical care right away, the injury she suffered could have been treated. The type of blow to the head she sustained allows an artery to freely pump blood directly into the brain—it pools and creates pressure, which is not always fatal if it is quickly relieved. When this type of injury occurs, the victim can be lucid – walking and talking for a short period of time, which is why this syndrome is often called "Talk and Die." When the swelling and pressure between the brain and skull have nowhere to go, the victim will soon lose that cognizance and die without treatment.
In the first line of this blog, I said there was a correlation with my own life in this news. The Sunday before Natasha Richardson fell and hit her head on the Canadian ski slope, I hit my head on a metal bracket under a shelf in my home office. I was bent over a file cabinet and stood up too quickly before I'd cleared my way from under the shelves. At first, I was lucid and operated normally for a few moments, while complaining my head and neck hurt. Then, I started to say strange words like, "rainbow, bubblegum, and bologna," for no reason. When Nathan started asking if I was ok, I responded with nonsense statements. He asked me to recite the alphabet. I got stuck at E, F, G, H, and kept re-looping back to A.
He said someone, like the paramedics should come and take a look at me. I didn't want that, nor did I want to go to the hospital. My head wasn't working the way it should have though, and Nathan knew this. So, he made the call. He told the 911 operator the situation, and that he wasn't sure if I had to go to the hospital but he wanted someone to check me out. When the paramedics arrived, they asked him my normal range of intellect. He said, "this woman has two Master's degrees and right now, she can't say the alphabet." I remember hearing the alarm in his voice, which is I'm sure is accurate. However, my scrambled brain also distinctly remembers the two men discussing the topic of windsurfing, which never happened. The trip to the hospital and my time there was filled with more odd words like, "cocker spaniel, driftwood, tequila," and others I don't remember. I'm thankful they weren't embarrassing or swear words.
I've still got a pretty good sized lump on my head and a headache that seems to have taken up residence. The doctors said that just like any other part of the body, the brain can be bruised and it will take some time to heal. I have a mild concussion but no bleeding or swelling in my brain. My family and I are very grateful for that and for the fact that Nathan made the choice to call 911. If we'd have read about Natasha Richardson the day after my head injury without my having gone to the hospital, we'd probably be alarmed…freaking out is more like it.
Now, I can only say that my thoughts go out to Natasha Richardson's family. Liam Neeson has lost his wife, their children have lost their mother. Vanessa Redgrave has lost a daughter -- which every parent says is something that no parent should have to experience…children are supposed to go after the parents. Joely Richardson has lost her sister, and that's a pain I'll never know.
I'm so sorry Natasha Richardson didn't have her own Nathan with her the day she hit her head, to force her to get treatment. I'm sure if Liam had been with her…he would have. That's what our men do when we can't, or don't know how to do what is best for ourselves. Sometimes it turns out to be the right decision. If we've hit it lucky, he's the kind who steps in gently, then doesn't crow like a rooster from being right. I'm one of the lucky ones, because in my case, he's almost always spot on and he's never a cock about it.
Rest Without Pain
Natasha Richardson
1963 - 2009
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