By Dr. Gregory Player

No where man

“All he said is Eddie Garland?” ask the man working ski patrol.

 “Yeah, that’s it. He has no idea where he is and has no ID on him.” The two ski patrol workers discuss what to do with the wandering man.

He had been lying bewildered on his back in the hard packed snow less than thirty minutes ago. After being transported down the base of the mountain on a portable stretcher he is now the responsibility of the Aspen Ski Patrol. A burly man with a black and white goatee enters the infirmary. “Do you think we need to call an ambulance?” one of the workers asks the bearded man. The man strokes his goatee in thought.

“What did you get out of him?”

“All he said was Eddie Garland. I guess that could be his name,” he answers.

“Wait, I know Eddie Garland. He’s one of the snow board instructors.”

“So do you think we should get an ambulance?” the patrol worker asks again.

“I think we should get Eddie Garland down here.”

Twenty minutes go by waiting for Eddie Garland and the ski patrol learns no more information. They are all relieved to see the smiling freckled face and long auburn hair of Eddie enter the room.  “You know this man? Because all he seems to know is your name?”

Eddie answers, “Yeah. Hey man, you ok?” Silence.

“We haven’t been able to get anything out of him.”

Eddie laughs but stops quickly when he realizes it’s not a prank. His face sobers and he says, “I’ll take him to the ER.”

At the hospital

In Aspen Valley Hospital I lay listening to the hum of a CT scanner. The date is March 14, 1995. The CT searches for any abnormality from my head being catapulted from six feet onto the ice and snow. Snowboarders call it “catching an edge”, an unfortunate event whereby a side of the board digs into the snow and thrust the rider towards that side with alarming speed. A haggard but friendly neurologist reviews the images and comes out to discuss them.

He has curly hair and a crooked smile. “It looks as if there is no real damage done. A contusion. Shaken not stirred,” he jokes. “You should get your memory back slowly,” he tells me. He looks at my friend Eddie, “Eddie is it?” He nods his head and the doctor motions to watch him. “You see how his pupils constrict to this light. That’s called a pupillary reflex. If there is swelling in the brain this reflex is absent. You need to do this every four hours for the next two days. Any visual changes, nausea, trouble walking, worsening confusion, you let me know.”

With that paucity of information I am discharged to the care of my old college roommate and best friend, Eddie Garland. My memory is completely wiped clean. Not only is my memory gone, I have what is also known as anterograde amnesia: the inability to form new memories, at least for a time.

Who am I?

Eddie, his girlfriend Francis and their roommate, Chrissie, patiently answer my questions. But when the same questions keep coming only minutes apart, their patience begins to wane. An information sheet is produced in an attempt to end the badgering. A purple sheet of lined paper with sentences in blue ink: the only link to my past. Written down in succinct phrases are the basics of my present existence. My name is Greg Player. I live in Athens. I am here on break visiting my best friend Eddie. I am studying to get into medical school but first have to get my grades up and take some extra courses. I drive a Toyota Camry. I quit my job selling life insurance. The last bit leads to a repeated exclamation, “Whoa, what’s this, I sell life insurance? Is that lame?” They would all laugh, at least the first couple of times they hear the question. Then the follow-up question, “What does Eddie do?”

“Eddie is a snow-board instructor,” is the repeated answer.

Then, “Cool, that sounds cool,” I say. This went on for hours, days- the peppering of questions and the canned responses. “What I’m a doing here? Do I have a girlfriend? and finally does Chrissie have a boyfriend?”

In unison they yell, “Greg, look at your information sheet!”

“How I’m I supposed to be a doctor now?” I ask. But I’m not really concerned. Despite my head trauma I am surprisingly at peace. I’m surrounded by unadulterated beauty. I can appreciate the beauty in a way like never before. Like a newborn I see everything for the first time, and it is untainted. I view in wonder the awesome snow covered mountain peaks, the Aspen trees, the pure rivers and the open sky.  

My mind is precariously perched on a known reality and the unknown. I hover on the edge of conscious thought. But the unknown is not frightening, more like a fatherly embrace. Ironically, though my mind is disrupted it allows me to view the perfect pattern of God’s work. Like never before I have an awareness and appreciation of nature’s stable harmony. And as the perfectly formed snow flakes fall on the mountainous landscape around me, so do the pieces of my brain settle perfectly into place.

Perhaps the oddest experience of losing my memory is viewing an unknown face in the mirror. It is if I have been reading a book for days and have a clear idea on what the main character should look like. Only the movie comes out and he is cast completely different. I step full of curiosity to the mirror above the bathroom sink. For the first time, or maybe the first I remember, I see the face of the man staring back at me. He is darker than I would have anticipated, even ethnic in appearance. And more rugged, I would have suspected a softer face.

I enjoy the world in awe for days. Everything is new and I accept it all: the taste of a cheeseburger, the rush of a Jacuzzi in the frigid cold, even the shock of tobacco smoke filling my lungs.

As my days in Aspen march on, more and more of my memory returns. I am filled with abounding energy, so much that Eddie finally relents and decides he can not keep up with me hourly. He lets me go out, but only after posting a sign on my back that reads ‘If found return to Eddie Garland’.

With the return of my memory come the familiar problems that have been temporarily forgotten. They come back slowly like a black cloud entrenching on a clear day. Those familiar ruts worked deep in my brain that I curse gradually return. I am no longer free from self-doubt, self-consciousness or cynicism.

I try to cling to the untouched and unqualified beauty around me. So much so that I quickly write down my thoughts before they change back completely. The phrases are simple but powerful. I must enjoy the small and simple things in life. Fight against all that is cynical and evil. Keep things pure.

But I can not match the familiar habits and I slowly lose the ability to accept anything without analysis. I become once again a judge: of others and worst of all myself. I yearn for the time when I appreciate all the simple beauty the world has to offer. A time when my mind is blank and I see the world without critique. The time of tabula rasa. 

By Janet M. Cromer

This book chronicles the seven year journey Janet shared with her husband after a massive heart attack and cardiac arrest left Alan with a severe anoxic brain injury. In an instant, the brilliant physics professor and prolific author lost his abilities to read, write, walk, talk, think, and remember. With intensive rehabilitation and ongoing cognitive rehab with janet at home, Alan did regain his essential abilities to varying degrees. 

In a memoir brimming with information, Janet describes how the couple composed a new life with meaning and gusto. While a full recovery was not possible, Alan made an equally valuable “Best Choice Recovery” by making the most of every opportunity to learn, contributing to others, and finding new ways to enjoy life.

The story is told from both Alan’s perspective, and Janet’s perspective as his caregiver. She honestly explores the changes in their relationship, ambiguous  loss and grief, caregiver stress, and the process of empowerment and reinvention. The challenges faced and coping strategies shared are relevant to families of adult survivors of all types of brain injury.

About the Author:

Janet M. Cromer is a psychiatric RN, licensed psychotherapist, support group facilitator, educator, and advocate. She speaks widely at conferences, hospitals, support groups, and community events. 

As a freelance writer, Janet specializes in feature articles for publications serving healthcare professionals, patients, and the public. The American Medical Writers Association/NE Chapter awarded Janet a Solimene Award for Excellence in Medical Writing in 2006 and 2008.

Janet also writes personal essays and poetry. As a Registered Art Therapist (ATR), she encourages people to get in touch with their creativity in any form or media. Creativity is much more than an artistic process and product. Creativity is the energy, goodwill, and attitude we bring to daily life.

You may  contact Janet at janetcromer2@gmail.com or visit her web site at http://janetcromer.com/

Professor Cromer Learns to Read: A Couple’s New Life after Brain Injury

By Janet M. Cromer

Professor Cromer Learns to Read: A Couple’s New Life after Brain Injury is the recipient of a Solimene Award for Excellence in Medical Communication and Neal Duane Award of Distinction from the American Medical Writers Association – NE Chapter.

To order, click here!

By J. Lynne Mann, R. Psych. with Michael Rossiter

This guide discusses the emotional trauma and process of healing and recovery that is often overlooked in treatment and rehabilitation of adults with brain injury or stroke. It is based on the belief that it is not only the survivor of brain injury who needs to recover, but also the survivor’s family and friends and most importantly, the caregiver. Written by a mental health therapist and a parent/caregiver, the focus is on practical methods and information for helping people with acquired brain injuries move forward in their lives. The authors give clear explanations with useful strategies that families and survivors can use every day. Worksheets and instructional aides are included in each chapter.

For further information, see below: 

After Brain Injury: Tools for Living: A Step-By-Step Guide for Caregivers and Survivors

By J. Lynne Mann, R. Psych. with Michael Rossiter

The comprehensive how-to guide for psychological wellness after traumatic brain injury or stroke covers understanding the self, recovering emotionally, thinking in new ways, and changing behavior.  

Pocket Guide for After Brain Injury: Tools for Living

By J. Lynne Mann, R. Psych. with Michael Rossiter

This small bound reference guide contains all the concepts in the larger book, After Brain Injury: Tools for Living. It serves as a reminder system for survivors. Clear pictures and descriptions of key concepts in growth and healing are in the Pocket Guide for reminders of information and strategies. Its 3.5 by 5.5 inch size fits easily into a pocket or purse for easy carrying and regular use.

By Mary C. Cantwell And Michael R. Grego

As I recover, change is a constant in my life.
Some changes occur quickly, in a quite precise manner,
as I attempt to return to my former state of health.
Other changes come forth very slowly.
They may take a little bit more time
which is not always to my liking.
All the changes in my life have taken my time
and hard work to make it through.

My own memories are as clear as day to me.
Some people I know tell me otherwise.
Is my mind playing a joke on my consciousness?
Is this the comedic role I’m given in my life?

I guess what makes me the angriest is
when people won’t ‘get’ exactly what I tell them.
They misunderstand the meaning of what I say.
They choose not to take it in
or “view” the circumstances or situations the way I see it,
from my personal perspective.

I actually accept the new me in my mind situations,
hands down!
The new physical me is a completely different matter.
I would rather rewind the movie of my life
and go back to the way I was
before the consequential circumstance that
changed my life forever.
Therefore I’ve accepted my fate
although I will do anything to change the course or the track
that my life has chosen at this point in time.

Before my accident I felt I had the power
to control the way my life would go.
When I first became aware of the changes in me,
I knew I had completely lost that control.
Now I only go where ‘the chair’ takes me.
I don’t like not being in control of my own life.
It’s not a comfortable feeling.

I am not the same Michael as I used to be.
Yet, I am the same Michael.

For more poems by Mary and Michael see:

Musings with Mary and Michael

By Mary C. Cantwell and Micahel R. Grego

If you look it up in the dictionary, it will tell you that ‘musing’ means:

•           noun: a calm lengthy intent consideration

•           adjective: persistently or morbidly thoughtful; pensive; pondering

By Carolyn Rocchio

Brain injury rehabilitation overlooks sexual impact of trauma

One of the common consequences of traumatic brain injury (TBI) is sexual dysfunction. Unfortunately addressing sexual issues as a component of rehabilitation is often overlooked for a variety of reasons.

“Sexuality is an integral part of the human experience” (Sander). We are all sexual beings and sexuality is part of our life experience. Social mores and cultural differences make sexuality a taboo issue in some societies. Many therapists and other direct care providers in hospital and rehabilitation settings are untrained about sexuality and persons with disabilities. Their personal values often interfere with their ability or comfort level discussing the topic. When sexuality is overlooked as part of rehabilitation, sexual dysfunction can become an issue that is very difficult for families to understand.  Social isolation, common for persons after TBI, limits opportunities for developing meaningful relationships. 

Decreased dollars for rehabilitation services add to the problem.  With shorter number of days for care in rehabilitation programs to address the life altering effects of brain injury, such as mobility and cognitive impairments, there may be little time to discuss sexuality. Reimbursement for extended psychological and counseling has been all but eliminated from many insurance policies.

Hyposexuality and hypersexuality after brain injury

Sexual dysfunction after a brain injury may take the form of hyposexuality, as in loss of libido and lack of satisfaction. Hypersexuality can be equally problematic, but far more troubling to manage in rehabilitation and community settings. Hypersexuality manifests as inappropriate behaviors, such as verbal remarks, touching one self or others, exposing genitals, and sexual demands that are considered aberrant. These issues appear equally between men and women.

Cognitive, physical and emotional changes affect sexual functioning   

Injury to structures of the brain can result in varying degrees of dysfunction. Systemically a complex set of changes can occur affecting emotions, cognition, behavior, and mobility. Physical changes may alter the ability to enjoy satisfaction, particularly when there are residual physical changes such as:

• spasticity
• hemiparesis
• ataxia
• movement disorders 
• decreased balance    

Body positioning, balance, and arousal may require greater patience and guidance from partners. In addition, damage to the frontal or temporal lobes of the brain can affect the endocrine system and neurochemistry, resulting in such emotional responses as apathy, disinhibited behaviors, impulsivity, as well as physical changes in hormone levels.

Even more disabling are the cognitive changes. The frontal and temporal lobes of the brain regulate sexual functioning and are more frequently injured in car crashes and falls causing the brain to bounce around in the skull striking the bony protuberances on the inside of the skull. This often results in the following difficulties in maintaining or initiating satisfying sexual experiences: 

• decreased empathy for others
• inability to understand nonverbal cues (feedback)
• impaired social interaction with partners (inappropriate verbal/physical responses)
• difficulty self monitoring (can become aggressive)

Emotional issues, such as depression, can have a negative effect on sexuality. Some persons with brain injury may exhibit a child-like dependency on their partner.  Self centeredness in the person after TBI may result in exclusion of the views of others.  Any of these can sabotage  relationships. Medications commonly prescribed to control seizures and other residual medical and psychological complications of TBI can create additional problems with sexual functioning.

Rehabilitation professionals do not routinely treat or even discuss sexuality with patients for some of the following reasons: 

• family members’ discomfort discussing the subject
• therapists’ lack of training about sexuality
• lack of reimbursement for services
• level of cognitive recovery at time of individual’s discharge

How, when and what information on sex and sexuality should be addressed?

There is probably no perfect time that applies to all individuals due to the uniqueness of TBI, the person’s age and life situation, and the individual’s interest in resuming or initiating sexual activity. It is important that rehabilitation programs have printed materials for discussions with the patient, if appropriate during the inpatient stay.  They should also be included as part of a discharge plan to help guide discussion once the person is in the community and indicates interest and readiness for sexual activity.

These materials should include:

• general discussion of the many ways brain injury or TBI can affect sexual functioning, i.e., emotionally, physically, cognitively, and psychologically
• safe sex practices, HIV/AIDS, birth control, and sexually transmitted diseases
• methods and devices for self stimulation in the absence of a partner
• community resources should further treatment be required

With proper guidance, family and community support, most survivors of TBI will find ways to express themselves sexually in a responsible manner as part of the experience of their humanness.

References

Sander, AM. Integrating Sexuality into Traumatic Brain Injury Rehabilitation. Brain Injury/Professional. 7(1) 8-12, 2010

Recommended reading

This Fact Sheet is based on an article: Integrating Sexuality into Traumatic Brain Injury Rehabilitation. Brain Injury/Professional. 7(1) 8-12, 2010. Brain Injury/Professional is the largest professional circulation publication on the subject of brain injury and is the official publication of the North American Brain Injury Society (NABIS). Members of NABIS receive a subscription as a benefit of NABIS. Visit www.nabis.org to order the entire issue or join.

For more information, see:  

Sexuality after a Person has a Brain Injury

By David Strauss, Ph.D.

Corrects myths about sexuality among adults with disabilities and brain injuries. Gives strategies for families and caregivers on how to respond to sexual behaviors, disinhibition and changes in judgment and social skills.

Brain Injury It is a Journey

By Flora Hammond, M.D. and Tami Guerrier, B.S., Editors

This brain injury book for families explains consequences of traumatic brain injury and gives strategies for coping with changes in the survivor’s physical abilities, memory, attention, thinking and emotions. 

 By Jeff Therrien

I began wondering why I need to be so careful with what I say. I forever question myself strongly; this often takes over my thought process. I am very fortunate to believe that everything happens for a reason. I am also very fortunate to have a comedic relationship with the spirit within. I came to a wild discovery while explaining all of this to a dear friend of mine. Early on I convinced myself that my voice no longer belonged entirely to me. Now the question is; when do I take it back?

I just say it!

What I am referring to is the ‘no-filter’ clause which is a very common symptom with most forms of brain trauma. This means when a thought comes to mind, it is spoken before given the chance to consider whether or not it should be. The following exercise may clarify. Think of someone you may despise. What is the first thought that comes to mind? Now imagine you said that to this person. I have walked away from several conversations only to look back and wonder why on earth I said what I said. This has happened with family members, friends, clients, and of course, prospective clients. I will admit I have left many conversations feeling cold. Fortunately for me I know many forgiving souls.

Letting go of my voice was not a justification. It was more about self forgiveness and realizing “that wasn’t me.” Every other alternative I came up with was an attempt to control something that was out of my hands. Some may laugh when I mention the ‘no-filter clause,’ and I can assure you some may even envy me. Imagine for one moment letting it all out, all the things you’ve wanted to say to this person or that person over the years with no control. This is one of the tougher symptoms of brain trauma. Even those who understand this may have been hurt.

I’ve become much better over time, yet sometimes I slip and throw another dagger. I’ve learned in moments of fatigue or over confidence, my new filter may be out to lunch. What can I say? I often have trouble believing my brain is still healing, until I look back at moments that are far out of character.

I apologize to just about everyone I have had a conversation with over the past two years, as I’m sure a dagger of brutal honesty was thrown your way. I hope some good came of all this, as I still need to believe that “It wasn’t me.”

The lesson: letting go.

By Mark Palmer

One bad choice

One day when I was 15 years old I lied to my family about where I was going, got in a car with an inexperienced driver, headed for Detroit, and was broadsided by a city bus.  I suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI) caused by a depressed skull fracture.  I went into a coma.  The doctors who performed emergency surgery informed my parents that I was not likely to survive the operation.  If I did, I was not likely to regain consciousness.  If I regained consciousness, they expected me to be severely handicapped. 

Six weeks later when we were heading home—my father and I in the front seat, my mother leaning forward from the back to protect me with her arms every time we went through an intersection—we were celebrating. Through the skill of surgeons, the care of nursing staff, and the prayers of scores of family, friends, and even paper route customers, we had beaten the odds.  I was a living miracle. 

Although I wasn’t “back to normal,” we believed that was only a matter of time.  After all, six weeks ago I’d been unconscious!  Now I could walk, feed myself, and void.  Although my entire left side was extremely weak, a few weeks ago it had been paralyzed.  My right arm was in a cast, but that would come off soon.  I couldn’t speak intelligibly, but when I first came out of surgery I couldn’t speak at all.  I had a four-inch gap in my skull covered only by a bandage, but we just needed to find a neurosurgeon to install a metal plate.  In other words, we were so grateful and relieved I was alive and well enough to be home that all remaining difficulties seemed trifles by comparison.

Reality hits home

For most TBI sufferers, that ebullience would erode over time and frustration with their continuing inability to “get back to normal” would set in.  The hard facts of TBI are that discharge from the hospital means only that the acute crisis is over; now the chronic one begins.  In my case, the chronic health issues included nocturnal grand mal seizures that repeatedly dislocated my shoulders, continuing sinus and vision problems, speech and language processing difficulties, numerous additional surgeries, and—always—constant pain.

Yet my hard-headed refusal to accept physical reality kept me from acknowledging even fear or frustration.  Perhaps because I felt responsible for causing my parents so much anguish and expense, I resolved never to let my accident or its consequences stop—or even depress—me.  I minimized the pain and difficulties I faced.  I stopped reporting my nightly seizures.  I laughed off being able to spell only 10 percent of words correctly on weekly quizzes.  My teachers passed me anyway.  I went to college, got married, had kids, built a career, and just kept demanding that my body perform for me—no matter what compensations it had to make in order to do so.  After 34 years of this, I was in agony nearly all of the time—and so were those who loved me.  They watched me suffer, but I wouldn’t even allow them to call it suffering.  I was in denial.  I had unrealistic expectations. 

Change of direction

It took a new doctor—34 years after the accident—to say something that got me to accept my actual situation.  He said, “With personal commitment to being a little better every day, you should be able to compensate for most of your brain damage.” 

My mind reeled.  Brain damage?  What brain damage?!  I was normal, wasn’t I?

I thought all the way back to that hospital homecoming in 1965, when we were all so convinced my “return to normal” was imminent—just a few short days, weeks, or maybe months down the road.  My parents had been through so much, I didn’t want to disappoint them by not getting back to “normal.”  I’d been muscling my way through life ever since. 

And, to tell the truth, it wasn’t just my parents I was determined not to disappoint—it was me.  If I wasn’t “normal,” what was I?  It was a question I’d never given myself a chance to answer. 

My doctor’s pivotal comment set me on a new trajectory, which began with acceptance.  I had to accept that TBI had caused brain damage and that my attempts to override that fact had made matters worse—forcing my body to invent new neural pathways to convince the wrong muscles to perform the tasks I demanded of it.  Leaving me in constant pain.  Putting my loved ones in constant pain, as well. 

A little better every day

I have since spent 10 years working patiently to address my physical limitations, rather than denying them.  I have adopted more realistic expectations.  I now have a new normal, which is also my mantra.  It’s called “A little better every day.”  With acceptance, patience, and hard work, my pain has diminished greatly.  I now can swim, rollerblade, and play on the floor with my grandkids.  I keep working, knowing that my new normal is a work in progress.  “What am I if not normal?”  A little better every day. 

Realistic Hope: Aspirations for Survivors of Traumatic Brain Injury

By Mark Palmer

To order your copy, click here.

 By Mark Palmer

Is a concise, helpful book for survivors of TBI—or any life-threatening trauma or illness—and their family members, friends, and health care practitioners. Written by a TBI survivor and coach, the book cautions against expectations of a “return to normal” in favor of a more realistic hope: start where you are and strive to be a little better every day. Moving personal stories and practical tips help survivors and their families weather the acute crisis and understand the lifelong journey ahead.

About the Author

Mark Palmer had a traumatic brain injury 40-something years ago, when he was broadsided by a Detroit city bus, and has been rebuilding his life ever since. After 15 surgeries, countless rounds of physical, speech, and other therapies, and years spent refusing to fully accept the extent of his disabilities, Mark has persevered. He has parlayed the lessons learned from his TBI into success as an entrepreneur, CEO, sales executive, and coach–showing companies, sales teams, and individuals how to exceed their loftiest goals. Although Mark has never regained his pre-accident “normal,” he has lived a remarkable life–a possibility he extends to all TBI victims by offering them Realistic Hope: that by accepting their “new normal” they can begin the journey of recovery and live a happy, fulfilling life.

For more information go to Mark’s website at http://realistichope.com 

Realistic Hope: Aspirations for Survivors of Traumatic Brain Injury 

By Mark Palmer

To order click here!

Developed by Dr. Jeff Kreutzer and Dr. Stephanie Kolakowsky-Hayner at the National Resource Center for Traumatic Brain Injury, this series of 3 workbooks voices the many thoughts, feelings, and reactions that survivors, families and caregivers experience but too often do not talk about after brain injury.

Filled with candid discussions, personal insights, and  revelations, both the positive and negative aspects and experiences of survivors and families reveal and explore the complexity and challenges of living a fulfilling life after brain injury. 

The three areas addressed in the series are:

• rebuilding life after brain injury
• living with caregiving
• and exploring work after brain injury

Written in large print with lots of checklists, worksheets, and questionnaires, users will find these workbooks uniquely reflect the real life experiences of the many survivors, caregivers and families who helped develop their content.  There are also plenty of useful strategies, tips, and suggestions that survivors, families and caregivers can readily use to address the many challenges of living a full life.
 
With each workbook organized by 25 great ideas, you will find them a real treasure of information and tools for, as the titles say, living smarter and happier after brain injury.  The workbooks are:

Getting Better and Better after Brain Injury: A guide for survivors for living smarter and happier

This innovative guide provides a framework to help survivors understand recovery, feel better, accomplish more, and improve relationships. Getting better is a skill. Like most skills, improvement comes with practice and hard work.

Getting Better and Better after Brain Injury: A guide for families, friends and caregivers for living smarter and happier

This down-to-earth guide is packed with practical ideas to help those who want to help — family members, friends, and others — but are not sure how.  Taking a frank and pragmatic approach to the stresses, challenges and rewards of caregiving for family and relationships with friends, it is filled with practical suggestions and real life experiences with techniques and coping strategies that caregivers, friends and families have found effective.

Brain Injury Work Book: A guide for living and working productively

With candid discussions of the pros and cons of working after brain injury and the attitudes and barriers of employers, this workbook helps survivors and families sort through the options of going back to the same job, finding a new job, or not going back to work.

The Alaska Brain Injury Network (ABIN) and the North American Brain Injury Society (NABIS) invite you to an unprecedented educational event:

The Alaska Brain Injury Conference!

Anchorage, Alaska

July 28 – 30, 2010

This conference will involve both nationally and regionally renowned speakers, highlighting the latest developments in identifying, diagnosing, treating and promoting long term quality of life for people who experience disability due to brain injury. Special attention will be devoted to applying findings across various cultures and geographically populated regions.

Summer In Alaska!

Come to Alaska during its most glorious season and experience the splendors of the country’s “Last Frontier”. Anchorage, Alaska is a city surrounded by spectacular wilderness. Located between Cook Inlet and the Chugach Mountains, this is a city where moose roam free and salmon are fished from downtown Ship Creek. Special events celebrating the unique and diverse cultural heritage of Alaska will co-occur with special recreational opportunities and the conference’s engaging scientific and clinical program. Special hotel rates have been arranged with the Hotel Captain Cook, Anchorage’s finest for this special event.

For more information, click here!