Oakdale Man Writes to Help Others with Brain Injuries

On a winter day in 1989, Oakdale resident Mike Strand was driving home from work when his life was forever changed. At the age of 25, Strand suffered a traumatic brain injury when he was struck by a semi-trailer, staying in a coma for 10 days, spending eight weeks in the hospital.

After the accident, in Strand’s words, he had to relearn “everything,” including walking and talking, eating, and tying his shoes. Now 48, Strand and his wife Linda—childhood sweethearts who stuck with the wedding plans they had prepared before the accident, marrying six months later—have built a life for themselves in Oakdale, living in a  farmhouse built in 1904, the original farmhouse in their neighborhood.

 Strand’s experiences with traumatic brain injury led him to writing, first with a series of articles for the Brain Injury Association of Minnesota’s newsletter, “Headlines.” These essays, documenting the details of his life’s joys and struggles, were compiled to create his first book, Meditations on Brain Injury. Strand also has a blog called Mike's Big Brain Blog, with more of his observations, and he is currently working on his second book.

Oakdale Patch reporter Michelle Leon sat down with Strand, and learned more about his life and accomplishments.

Oakdale Patch: Tell us a bit about your books.

Mike Strand: I had been involved with The Brain Injury Association of Minnesota for a number of years, and had sent them a number of essays about what brain injury was like from my viewpoint. As a person with a brain injury, I didn’t feel like there was anything out there specifically for me. The articles were more about events, or aimed toward the doctors and caregivers. So I decided to write the kind of articles that I wanted to see. I wrote one and they liked it and used it. I sent another one … and the same thing.

There were other people with brain injuries seeing these stories and thinking, “This is what I like to read.” So I had to this column for three or four years. Each time I wrote one of these articles I would think, “I’ve said everything I can say about brain injuries.” But I kept thinking of something else to say. People were asking for back issues, and eventually I had enough of them, so I put them in book form.

A friend of mine had a publishing company, and he read my book and said, “I think my brother has an undiagnosed brain injury.” Sure enough, his brother was diagnosed, and he published the book.

For my second book, I again assembled a bunch of essays and a friend, who is well-respected brain injury M.D., known worldwide, wrote the forward and commentary to accompany my essays.

Oakdale Patch: Your blog is so interesting, I really loved the essay Boredom. You used such great imagery in that one.

Strand: That one did resonate strong with everyone because you just feel like, “I used to have this really cool, interesting life and now I can’t do anything.”  Telling people you are bored, and they respond, “Why don’t you do something fun?” You try to explain that you can’t, and they tell you to find something fun. The person is just not hearing what you are saying which is, “It’s driving me up the wall, because I can’t do the things I want to do, because everything is hard, and nothing makes sense.”

Oakdale Patch: It would seem like no matter how much someone without a brain injury wants to relate, it would be impossible to understand what your life is like, the frustrations involved.

Strand: One article that got a lot of attention was about putting yourself in the other person’s position, like your caregivers who are usually parents and spouses. Statistically, the injury could have happened to either of you. Instead of playing the victim, you can take control and say, “OK, let this be me, I will take this one.”

Oakdale Patch: That’s a really spiritual and powerful way to look at it.

Strand: You can see, I get a little choked up talking about that. Another essay I wrote to the caregivers saying, “Think if you had been in the accident, and you are angry and frustrated, and can’t understand why you can’t do certain things. Your caregivers would have to sit there and put their whole life on hold.” Any maybe you said, “No, let me be the caregiver.” Because being the caregiver is also very rough. I think my wife has it tougher than I do.

Oakdale Patch: Well, it must speak to your character too that she finds you tolerable.

Strand: At the time of the accident, we were engaged and planned on getting married in June. My accident was in January and we had to decide in February whether or not we were going to go through with this wedding—it was a big wedding. She asked me what I thought and I said, “We can do it. Let’s do it.” My goal was to be able to walk down the aisle.

Oakdale Patch: I am sure there was not a dry eye in the house.

Strand: No there wasn’t. It looked like she was walking an old man down the aisle, little steps, but I made it. I can accept that I was like that, but I can’t really remember it. The closer my memories get to '89, the foggier it gets.

Oakdale Patch: Do you remember your childhood?

Strand: The '80s are a blur, but I do have my childhood memories. I actually remember falling in love with Linda and our teenage years together better than our later courtship and the wedding. I wish those were clearer memories.

Oakdale Patch: That must be really hard.

Strand: Ordinarily it’s not a big deal; You don’t have the memory, so you don’t miss it. But there are things like my wedding that I wish I remembered better, and I just don’t.

Oakdale Patch: Do you have certain times of the day that are easier for you?

Strand: Generally earlier in the day. I am kind of a basket case about things when I am tired. When it gets late, I can’t always hold it together. It’s like being drunk: my speech get slurred; my vision gets poor; I am easily confused; I get emotional. A lot of times my wife just says, “Honey, why don’t you just go to bed.”

I wrote an article called “Obsession,” because brain injury people are known to be very obsessive. People ask, “Why can’t you just let that go?” I tell them that so often I don’t understand what’s going on around me. Somehow there is a big picture here that everyone else sees, and I just don’t see it.

Oakdale Patch: There must be a lot of anxiety.

Strand: There is. You feel like if you could just understand it, you would see the solution; you are always right on the edge, so it’s hard to let go. Some of these things happen to everyone, but with a brain injury the noise gets turned up to 11.

Oakdale Patch: What would are some of the changes over the last twenty years in the way brain injuries are treated?

Strand: They say that you see most of your improvement in the first two years. And anyone who has experienced this type of injury laughs at that. It is one of the fastest areas of growing knowledge.

A few months ago, I started working with a gentleman doing vision therapy, and that has been really helpful. I have double vision, its not that I see two images, but I see colliding images. I often walked and talked to people with my head down. Even after just a few months of this therapy, I can look straight at you now. It’s working, so I am very excited about that.

For me, overcoming my speech impediment was also huge. It takes much effort to speak clearly and gather my thoughts. It is very hard for a brain injury person to put things into words—somehow that connection isn’t there.

But I remembered in junior high German how nice it was to get out of class and start speaking English again. I could say what I meant. So I thought, “Hey, I’ll learn German to feel better when I get back to speaking English again. So I did that, and eventually I got good enough at German that I didn’t feel that anymore. Then I took up Finnish, which never got easy, and that is ultimately what improved my voice.

Oakdale Patch: Since your injury happened over 20 years ago, it must be hard to separate what is part of aging and what to attribute to your injury.

Strand: Yeah, I get tired at the end of the day, but is that because of my age or my brain injury? It’s a little of both, but you never really know.

Part of what they tell you and your family is not to expect changes overnight; think in terms of years. And being the person you were wouldn’t be appropriate either. When you are 35, you are not going act like a 25-year-old. That’s a tough distinction to make because you really want your old identity back. It’s hard to let that go and say, “I am working on a new me.”

Oakdale Patch: It must be very strange to have two identities: before and after.

Strand: You have to make your peace with it, and that takes a lot of time.

Oakdale Patch: I see you do yoga. Does that help you find that peace?

Strand: Yoga does help. Originally I did it for balance and flexibility, but what I didn’t expect is my emotional side was really improving, too. I didn’t lose my temper as much anymore. I am able to focus, which helps get rid of a lot of my frustrations. They say that yoga loosens up the body and tightens up the mind, and that was huge for me.

Oakdale Patch: Anything else you would like to add?

Strand: When someone says, “I have a brain injury, Alzheimer’s, cancer…” The only response seems to be some pop psychology, “Look on the bright side!” When you say that, the intention is good, but what you are basically saying is, “I didn’t hear what you said, and you don’t really have a problem, I am just going to brush this off.” The nicest thing anyone ever said to me was at a restaurant counter talking to the guy next to me, laying my woes on him. I expected to hear “Look on the bright side,” but he said, “Yep, sometimes things just suck.” I thought, “Someone has finally listened to me.” So yes, the nicest thing anyone ever said to me is, “Sometimes things just do suck.” That made me feel good.