Our story, which by no means is at its end, began in the mountains. To be specific the Transylvanian Mountains. During Christmas of 1990, a specific child was brought to our attention that was in desperate need of a family. Florin Valc, who later became our son Evan Waldeck, had spent the first two years of his life in a Romanian Orphanage, abandoned at birth. For those of you who are not familiar with the news coverage of the Romanian Orphans, severe and cruel depravation is an understatement. These children were left without attention in their beds all day, some of them tied to the slats to keep them still. They were malnourished, unclothed and never touched, held or loved. The bitter winters of Romania were often spent in nothing more than underpants in a non-heated room.

When we first heard of this, the overwhelming desire to offer more to a child set our journey in motion. A missionary friend of ours put us in contact with a Romanian pastor who lived in Dallas. Marin Tomulet, the pastor, had helped other families adopt children out of his homeland. He had relatives that still lived there who had assisted with several adoptions.

From the very first phone call we had with Marin, he told us of a specific child who was in a very dangerous situation. Florin had spent 2 years in the orphanage only to be taken out by his biological mother for reasons that we were certain pertained to child support or government assistance. Once she was turned down, she did not want the child and planned to return him or to adopt him out. We were told that the mother was harsh with the child but could not begin to imagine the fate that was in store for the precious child that we saw a picture of.

During the winter of 1991, times were very confusing. The Gulf War was in progress, so overseas phone lines were hard to come by. The Romanian government did not help either. Due to the negative press reports they were slowing down and stopping all adoptions. They began with orphanage adoptions and then voted on a law to stop private adoptions as well. For six months we tried desperately to accomplish an adoption by proxy to no avail. As we followed the news and fought time, we finally heard in June of 91 that private adoptions had stopped as well. Only by the grace of God did we find one person who offered hope. A Montana attorney that our social worker knew explained that a rumor he heard stated that “yes the law was passed, but the President of Romania had not signed it yet, although he planned to”. Only on an outside chance of the rumor being correct could we give it one last try.

Adoptions were to have stopped on June 1st, and on June 7th I boarded a plane for a far away country, all alone with no idea how I was going to accomplish this goal. We just knew that we had to give it our best shot. After arriving in Bucharest, the hard part started. All I needed to do was make it 7 hours into the interior of the country to a village called Tiush. Here I was to find Marin’s brother Daniel. I knew that Daniel lived near a bridge, drove a white van and could take me to the next village where Marin’s mother in law knew where to find the child.

If this sounded difficult to do, it was by no means the hard part of the trip. When arriving in Tiush, Daniel explained that the last time he had checked, the child had been taken to the hospital with pneumonia. If this had only been true, it would have been the good news. In reality the mother had made up this story to stop people from checking on the child.

Our next step was to go to Auid. There Daniel and I located Domnica, Marin’s mother-in-law, at church on Sunday night and she escorted us to the child’s home to inquire which hospital he was in. Nothing could have ever prepared me for what I was to experience. A young girl, about 7 years old, answered the door at the home. After a moment of inquiry she replied in Romanian and pointed to the next room. Daniel turned to me with a drained face and uttered “the child is dead”.

Quietly, in what seemed to be slow motion, we entered a small concrete two-room apartment. There the child had been set aside to be buried the next morning. I was still hoping for the best, praying they were wrong. As I picked up the broken little body, I realized there was a very shallow breathing pattern. My son, Evan, was unconscious, wrapped in layers of clothing and plastic. He had a wool cap on his head to hide the swelling. All of this clothing, in the middle of June only to hide the frail and broken body from others who might see him. As I took off the cap, what I found was a very enlarged head. All of his hair had fallen out due to mal-nutrition. He was covered in his own waste and had obviously been beaten and starved for weeks. He had cigarette burns all over his body and a hand imprint around his throat. Later CT scans and x-rays confirmed fourteen broken bones, two skull fractures and massive brain damage. Here in the region of Translyvania, we faced our first mountain.

Many different ups and downs occurred during the next 5 weeks that it took for me to get Evan home. The first of which was a trip to a physician, who through my interpreter explained “The child has a disease that is making his head explode. We must put nails in the head.” Looking back I am sure there must have been something lost in the translation, but my confidence that they could help him at that moment diminished. I would just have to wait until I got back to the medical technology of the USA.

To be very honest, this same feeling of hopelessness was only repeated later when very qualified physicians here in America saw Evan. Of course, the diagnosis was different. Basically, Evan’s damage was massive posttraumatic brain injury. There was really nothing that could be done for him medically. The first physician to give me the CT results said “What had been done to this child is appalling (as if I didn’t know). He will probably never walk, talk or see.”

Our family physician was a friend of ours and encouraged my husband and I to dismiss what we had been told. While he explained that the reading of the reports was correct, he couldn’t imagine that all this child had been through was for naught. He also cautioned me against a self-fulfilling prophecy. “If you expect nothing, that may be exactly what you get. The more you work with him the better” were wiser words. Work with him. Work with him? Okay, but exactly how do you do that?

Evan physically bounced back remarkably fast. In fact, we even had him standing and kind of walking in a short period of time. We sought out early intervention and were directed to the Commission for the Blind and a very impressive school in Dallas for visually impaired children.

This is where we were to receive services for the two school years. Three days a week, I would load up Evan and his two brothers Philip and Kenny and make the one-hour drive to Dallas. At the time Evan was about 3, Philip was 3 and a half and Kenny was 2. Here I would either sit working on a family quilt I was making or observe through a window as they worked with him, or take a drive to a local shopping center until his class was over. Evan also had home visits once a week. At the school he saw a Physical Therapist, an Occupational Therapist, an Orientation and Mobility Therapist, a Speech and Language Pathologist and a Special Education Teacher. His class consisted of 6 children and 6-7 adult therapist and aides. What more could we ask for in services? In services there was no stone uncovered. I wish I could say that Evan’s progress was proportionate to the services we received.

At the end of this time Evan’s mobility was awkward at best, he had virtually no language that was not parroted and he was functionally blind. I had really thought that Evan was much smarter than given credit. I had also seen so many articles about brain plasticity and how sometimes damaged areas could be bypassed. I kept asking if this would happen with Evan. I would usually get a very sweet smile and silence.

The people working with Evan were lovely. They truly loved the children in their care. I do not believe that they ever had anything but the very best of intentions. I just felt in my gut that there had to be more for this child. One wonderful thing about the Center we were attending was that it was free of charge. Due to grants and funding, families were spared the expense. Now I really wished this had not been the case. If we had been paying for the services that were provided it is possible that we would have explored other options sooner.

I had been planning on home schooling my other sons but the idea never occurred to me with Evan. Of course it would seem that he needed much more qualified professionals than myself. After all, my background was in Real Estate Land Development and Mortgage Finance. But, then I attended a home school book fair that just happened to have a workshop for special needs home schoolers.

I had been approaching a time of transition for Evan, another mountain to cross. His age was approaching too old for the school he was attending and the public school system was the next step.

Several issues brought me great concern. While I do not ever want to over protect or shelter, I do remember being a child. I also remember the cruelty directed towards children like Evan by other children. The thought of what it would be like was heartbreaking. Even adults had said awful things in his presence thinking, “He doesn’t know what I am saying, so rudeness is okay”.

At this home school workshop I heard other mothers speak of the problems they had seen in school. Not only did I not want this for my son, these mothers said that their children had actually done much better by bringing them home. The mothers who spoke had been to NACD, the National Academy for Child Development, and had special programs designed for their children that they could implement at home. I remember asking if they believed that a cortically blind child could be taught to see. One of the mothers smiled and said that the founder’s own son, diagnosed CVI, had learned to see. Well, this was good enough for me, as it probably would be for any mother.

You can imagine what happened when I went home to tell my husband. All we had to do was come up with the money for an evaluation. Mother’s of hurt children are very easy marks. Anything that could possibly help is considered a rainbow to be chased. But, fortunately NACD has a seminar on tape that explains in detail the premise behind the programs designed for the children. After listening intently to the tapes, my husband’s response was “This is the first thing we have heard that makes sense. This is what we need to do with Evan”.

Shortly after listening to the tapes, we were put on a waiting list for our appointment. I will never forget when the call came in. We were able to get the last slot available for several months.

At our appointment many things were brought together for us about Evan. So many of his sensory channels were operating incorrectly. He had no awareness of where he was in space, which effected his gross and fine motor development. He was easily distracted by noises due to the fact that he had auditory tonal processing problems. He had sequential processing problems that kept him from being able to put pieces together mentally. This issue held him back from being able to progress with receptive and expressive language. He had organic problems that kept the hemispheres of the brain from communicating and therefore stunting his development. As Evan was described to us, it was never in the manner of “too bad these things are broke” but rather “these things really need to be worked on and possibly fixed”. Of the greatest concern was the fact that at age 5 Evan’s auditory sequential processing was where it should be at about age 1.

Then the issue of vision came up. At the time my words were “To be honest, having a blind child is not that bad. Having a child who can not think is devastating.” It was silent for a moment and then Bob Doman, NACD’s founder, took a deep breath and said, Do not give up on vision yet. Unfortunately, 2 years have passed and during this time he has been taught to be blind, and additional atrophy of the brain is our worst enemy. I don’t know what we can get back but we have to give it our best shot.” My heart almost stopped. First at the hope of gaining any vision. Second at the thought that we had done the wrong thing for the last two years and had possibly caused him additional harm.

This is the beginning of our next mountain to climb. Needless to say, I have not touched a quilting needle since and many different interests have gone by the wayside. Amazing how some of the things I spent time on before can seem so shallow now. My life now is full to the brim with children. First and foremost are my 5 sons (we have had 2 sweet surprises since our story began), in addition to that, I am blessed to be involved in the lives of many families with hurt children.

We began Evan’s program in November of 93. It consisted of about 4 hours of numerous different exercises that lasted for only a few minutes at a time. The preface behind each and every exercise is that by giving VERY specific information to the brain in the exact right way and in the exact right time frame, new neuro-pathways are developed to create higher functioning. This sounds easy, but it has not been. But the hard days were in the beginning. Just like any life change, the adjustment period is the hardest. My obsessive nature did not help in this manner. I started with great determination and did 100% of our program 7 days a week. After about 2 months I decided to only do 50% on Sundays. I had a very nice call from the home office asking me what in the world I was doing. At first I misunderstood and began to justify, only to be cut off. The exact words were “You were never expected to do this much and especially not 7 days a week. At this pace you will never last.” I did some sole searching. I had already began to see great progress with Evan and he had improved in his auditory processing by over a year in only 2 months. So much time had been wasted before. But this is when I realized that the race I had to run was a marathon and not a sprint. If I ran too hard at the beginning I would never be able to finish.

At this time we also realized that many of the symptoms that our son Philip experienced that were classic ADHD/dyslexia could be helped as well through NACD. We did not have the money to afford a second child on the program so I began to volunteer for two reasons. One reason was that they offered volunteers credit towards the fees, and the other reason was to “cheat” and figure out what to do for Philip. Volunteering actually showed me how complex and individualized the programs were. Many kids with the same diagnosis and symptoms were given different programs since different underlying roots caused the symptoms. I realized very quickly that an evaluation was the best route for Philip. It actually took about a year and a half to help Philip eliminate his symptoms and actually become an accelerated student. Today, I have 5 sons program. Each is doing exceptionally well and loves having program as part of their lives.

Now back to Evan. During the first few months, his development exploded. He began to develop language skills, his gross and fine motor began to emerge and best of all there were glimmers of site beginning to ignite. I look back at the rate of improvement during this time and it is phenomenal. Everyone around us noticed the big differences and I was convinced that at this rate, he would be entering college at age 12. This also began the ups and downs of the mountains we climbed. Several times we seemed to stall out or reach a plateau. I could have stopped at any of these points had I not been actively involved with NACD first as a volunteer and now as a staff member. There was something about seeing other kids progress during the times that Evan slowed down that kept me realizing it was just a matter of building more connections between brain cells and stronger neuro-pathways.

I have watched clients and very dear friends get to a point after a few months or years on the program where they stop because they believe they have gotten all they will get or because they want to go on the next popular therapy. Unfortunately this is typically where the development stops. This does not diminish the preciousness of the individual child, but it is sad to wonder “what if?”

You may wonder where Evan is today. Is he still brain-injured? Yes, he is, but the wonderful thing is that most of the time people don’t realize it until they spend a good amount of time with him. He really struggles with academics and we are always having to come up with the missing pieces to gain more development. A few times we have gained an edge with outside sources such as some very good supplements but for the most part, only an edge. The development continues to come out of hard work. His brothers and I split up the work and make it fun. We figure that lemon aide is more fun than lemons. Often people ask, “will you always HAVE to do this?” With the changes it has brought in his life my response is “just try and stop me”. We also get asked, “where is he exactly”? Our response is always the same “going forward”. Some people push and ask “but what will he be able to do?“ We just smile and say “continue to go forward”. A few really stubborn, or dense, people will ask “but what are his limitations?” To this the answer is “he passed them years ago”.

Today, Evan’s mobility and structure are beautiful to watch. Conversationally, he will talk your ear off. He has a witty sense of humor and loves to tease. He can also follow conversations that are not memorized. Evan sees well enough to travel without any assistance. He can identify pictures and shoot basketballs like you wouldn’t believe. We just recently took a family vacation to Colorado. We were insane enough to take all of the kids on a breath-taking hike across the Continental Divide. To understand the depth of our insanity, we had Evan (10 and visually impaired), Philip (11), Kenny (9), Jason (4) and the new baby Grant (4 months) in a back pack. The trip was wonderful. Evan was a little slow at first but ended up completely independent and leading me out along the trail. In fact as we got back to the van and we were all exhausted, Evan smiled and exclaimed “Let’s do it again with a timer to see how fast we can make it.” For this the reward was to make a trip to the local souvenir shop to pick out the very best T-shirt for him. Without a doubt we chose a shirt which described his journey perfectly. It boldly said “Fear NO Mountain”.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 14 No. 1, 2001 ©NACD

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As I write this account, it is the day after Thanksgiving, 1996. How far we’ve come. How thankful we are that we found NACD.

On August 23, 1993, our son, Camron, was hit by a car while riding his bicycle. He sustained serious head injuries and was comatose for four months. After 10 weeks at our local hospital, McKay-Dee Hospital Center, Camron was transferred to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah. This transfer happened only at our insistence. The people at McKay felt we should just send him to a nursing home. Though we never asked, we knew they thought he would never regain consciousness. They were wrong. In our hearts, we knew he would make it and we never asked for a prognosis. But while he was still in intensive care, I knew, too, that it would be up to us, Mom and Dad, to finish the rehabilitation. I remember thinking, “But I don’t know how!”

To this day, three years post injury, Camron continues to progress. His physiatrist is amazed and proud and gives much credit to NACD and the home program they design.

During the summer of 1995, we heard about NACD. Camron’s first evaluation was in August, 1995. In just ten weeks we noticed a big improvement both physically and cognitively. His whole aura changed for the better. I remember how difficult it was for Camron to get on the floor; how it was nearly impossible for him to propel himself forward on his stomach. It took both his dad and myself to work his arms and legs to help him bear weight into them so he could move forward. The difference by ten weeks was astonishing.

I remember hearing or reading about other children who were assigned to walk for 30 minutes per day. It seemed like it would be forever before we could expect that assignment for Camron. But less than a year later, Camron’s program included walking 30 minutes per day.

Camron’s goal was to walk across the stage at high school graduation. Less than ten months after his initial NACD evaluation, with the use of a cane and a fellow graduate nearby, he achieved his goal to a standing ovation.

Camron’s program includes sensory stimulation, balance retraining, and cognitive expansion, along developmental lines. Today his balance is improving and he walks more steadily. He can recall ten random digits and is regaining function and strength in his left arm. To other parents, we say we have never worked so hard on anything nor have we ever been so richly rewarded for our efforts. I shudder to think what our story would be without NACD.

As a child playing doctor, I used to wave my wiggling fingers over the patient saying, “Fix, fix, fix.” Although the NACD program doesn’t work that way, they’ve given us an organized, structured approach that is still nothing short of miraculous.

We are happy to talk with any parent considering NACD for their child. The home office has our phone number.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 12, 1996 ©NACD

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An acquaintance at the hospital invited me to a Head Injury Alliance meeting, to which I went, reluctantly, and there was Joan Burns, as a guest speaker, telling about NACD! It was very exciting to hear about others with the same or similar problems and about the things they were learning to do.

After 5 months in the hospital, with little or no progress, Jeff was placed in a nursing home. Now the stimulation here consisted of about 2 minutes of touching and talking every 2 hours while being turned. And maybe the nurse would talk to him while feeding him once every 4 hours.

Then I attended a local meeting of NACD parents and told of my plight. Joan Burns and her daughters, Mary and Sue, volunteered to work with Jeff. I recruited some friends and neighbors and in April we started with a daily 2 hour program consisting of tactile, sounds and smells.

In a few weeks the empty look was gone from his face and though he couldn’t tell me or respond to me I knew that he knew I was there. In September of 1983, on the very day of Bob Doman’s first seminar in Michigan, his trach was removed and he began to eat. In November I brought him home, and continued the things we had been doing.

In March of 1984 when our very own branch of NACD opened here, we were there getting an evaluation and our own program. He has improved to the point where he is eating ground food instead of pureed or baby food. He is moving a lot, holding up his head and beginning to see.

I had hoped for more progress, but we only have volunteers once a day and his program should be done four times. Even though he doesn’t get his program 100% and his progress is slow, at least there is progress.

Thanks to NACD, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr., all the fantastic people in the organization and the volunteers who help us each day, all is not lost and there is hope for a future after all.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 9, 1996 ©NACD

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Head trauma or injury is the leading cause of death of persons between the ages of one and forty-four. The leading causes of head injuries include vehicle accidents, industrial accidents, assaults, sports injuries, falls, gun shot wounds, etc. Head injuries may be divided into closed injuries in which the brain is not exposed and open injuries such as gun shot wounds in which the brain is exposed.

Over 50% of head injuries are due to automobile accidents. This country has a sad record of over 50,000 deaths each year from that cause alone. Ten years ago at the onset of the oil shortage when the national speed limit was reduced to 55 MPH the death rate temporarily fell below the 50,000 level; but since that time, as the result of so many people ignoring the 55 MPH limit and ignoring the use of seat belts, deaths have again risen. Many states still do not have a law requiring motorcyclists to wear protective helmets. Motorcyclists are very vulnerable to head injury.

In vehicular accidents two-thirds of the deaths occur at the scene of the accident. The remaining one-third of the deaths occur later at the hospital.

Approximately 25% of severe head injury patients are admitted to the hospital in a state of coma. Of severe head injuries admitted to the hospital, 25% have injuries to the brain which occurred at the time of the accident, which will cause the patient’s death. Another 25% of the head injury patients admitted have mild enough injuries (usually concussion which will be discussed later) that they will improve rapidly. The remaining 50% will improve slowly or deteriorate. Of that 50% of patients, one out of three will be complicated by a hematoma (bloodclot). Depending upon the location of the clot, its severity, and its treatment, as many as half of the patients with blood clots may deteriorate and die.

The most common forms of brain clots are called: a) Epidural “Epi-” upon, “dura-” the outer thick covering of the brain. Such a clot lies between the skull bone and the dural cover of the brain. b) Subdural “sub-” below the dura. The clot lies under the outer brain covering. Another form of bleeding is called subarachnoid “Sub-” below, “arach-noid” the inner thin covering of the brain. Such bleeding goes into the spinal fluid, which follows in and around the brain acting as a cushion for the brain in an effort to diminish the effects of head injury.

Approximately 80% to 90% of brain blood clots are associated with fractures of the skull bones. The three main forms of skull fractures are called: a) Linera a line-like fracture which is sometimes mild enough not to require treatment; b) Comminuted a fracture with several bone fragments; c) Depressed in which a bone fragment or many fragments are pushed down into the skull. These are more serious and, if not properly treated, could lead to seizures. A comminuted, depressed fracture always requires neurosurgical intervention.

Of the two-thirds of the severely head injured patients who do not have blood clots most of them will recover slowly.

Mild head injuries generally include the following: a) Abrasions of the scalp where application of ice will generally be all that is needed after cleansing the area properly; b) Bleeding under the skin a burn where again an ice pack will help minimize the bleeding; c) Lacerations of the scalp, although often bloody, usually are not serious but should be cleansed properly and sutured when necessary.

Every patient suffering even a mild head injury should be carefully observed for a minimum of twenty-four hours to watch for possible signs of increased pressure within the skull including drowsiness, vomiting that is projectile (forceful shooting out), headaches, visual disturbances, etc. With the onset of such signs, the patient should be hospitalized immediately and tests done to determine if there is increased pressure within the skull.

NACD firmly believes in proper hospital testing for head injury patients not only to reduce mortality but also to prepare the patient better for NACD’s program for neurological rehabilitation.

Reprinted from the Journal of The NACD Foundation (formerly The National Academy for Child Development)

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 6 No. 3, 1985 ©NACD

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When “Dr. Bob” Doman suggested that I write a section for his book, I was a bit puzzled. “Write something about attitude,” Dr. Bob suggested. Now that word didn’t seem adequate but we failed to come up with a better one. Yet it is really attitude that has driven me to do this rigorous neurological program for nearly seven years, and very successfully I might add. Actually, whatever arms you with enough fortitude to continue in the midst of despair is surely the right attitude.

Let me familiarize you with my case. In 1976, I was struck by a car that sped through a red light. I was crossing the street where I shouldn’t have and failed to look. My life would change in that instant, I was struck at 50 MPH and landed head first on the cement roadway. I was rushed to an emergency room. Both legs were broken. An orthopedic surgeon performed a fine series of operations and saved both legs. At one point gangrene had infected the left leg, and it was about to be amputated. My orthopedic surgeon, however, insisted that they wait. Luckily they did and the gangrene disappeared. I was not to learn until much later that the decision that would save my leg would eventually play a large part in my ability to do these exercises and save my life, make my brain well.

When I awoke from the coma, I was in a neurological ward. Yet, I barely knew that. I did not know where I was or what had happened to me. I felt that “something big” had happened. It felt as if ten sandbags lay on top of my head. That feeling was from hydrocephalus that wasn’t to be detected or even tested for in twenty months of conventional treatment.

Everything was very dark and what I could make out was in double images. I spoke in eerie, haphazard bursts and was disassociated both from body and surroundings. At one point, I finally realized what had happened, loudly announced that I had been hit by a car, and promptly lapsed back into the coma, not uttering a sound for days. When I did speak again, it was with great effort, slow and labored. The words were not very intelligible and evidently what you could hear sounded as if I had a mouth full of mashed potatoes. I did not make much more progress.

After a few months in the hospital’s neurological ward, I was sent to a nursing home. Life at the home was comprised of eating and sleeping with daily forays to “occupational therapy,” ashtrays and baskets. I could not see or think well enough to know what I was doing and was thought to be depressed. It would have been difficult to be otherwise for I could not see, walk, talk, smell, taste, hear, or feel well at all. Also, I was hydrocephalic and had enormous pain in my leg. Was I supposed to be a good, compliant patient?

Long months of hospital therapy followed. It proved worthless and worse, confusing. Finally a friend heard of my plight. He managed to arrange an appointment in Pennsylvania with Dr. Robert Doman. It was an outside chance, but at least a chance. In all the months at the hospital with this gross injury, there had been no mention of the word “brain.”

On my appointed day in Pennsylvania, I was greeted by a group of doctors who not only knew that something was wrong with me, but also were audacious enough to suggest that they knew how to make me well. Meantime, back in Toronto, my friend and angel, Stuart Kent, had organized a volunteer network for me. The first few weeks were a beehive of activity at my house. People were learning when to push or pull my body, apply pressure, put salt and sugar on my tongue, talk to me in a dark closet, spin me in a chair, gently tickle my face, etc. I was the focus of all the attention but a most passive participant. The most vivid recollection I have of this time is the hydrocephalus starting to break up as I was rolled on the floor. It felt like chains snapping in my head, as though I were being released. I would require volunteers for only a year, until November of 1978.

As I write this it is May, 1984, and I have waged and won a long private battle. It is the only world I have known and it is only at this time that I’m aware of how long it has been in “real” time. I knew that if I wanted to live a full life, my birthright, once more that I was doing the only correct thing in the world. Anyway, there was nowhere to go but up because I was far worse than dead. From the beginning of my odyssey, I felt that I was the authority on my body, that I knew more than anyone else about it instinctively. I had always kept a firm image of what I would look like when whole again. To do this, I’ve had to keep to myself for years. Full reintegration into society will be problematic but when compared to my problems over recent years, a piece of cake. Anger has fueled me, anger as a result of what I could not do, i.e., everything.

In reading this over, I wonder if I have been too “hazy” about my “problem.” Let me be straightforward. I WAS BADLY BRAIN DAMAGED. I was alive because my heart was beating, but I have not been able to live a full and normal life in eight years. What Dr. Doman writes in his book actually does exist and works. NOTHING ELSE WORKS. CERTAINLY NOT TIME. NOTHING! Many other doctors will have you believe that fixing the brain is impossible. THEY ARE WRONG! These men and women at NACD know about the brain.

I have had to persevere through massive obstacles of both medical and public opinion and worse, the brain injury itself. I’ve said that re-entering society in a full way will be difficult, no question. It will be its own “voyage of discovery” laden with all the emotions that accompany a returning vet.

This neurological program then is a long, involved, complicated process, a ball of wax even. There will, however, never be a manmade computer as complex as the human brain. I have made these exercises work to my advantage. They have kept me from the mainstream, and yet I’ve used that separateness for private, personal gain. Presently, I’ve about perfected the art of being. I’m ready for a little doing in my life.

Comments from “Dr. Bob” Doman

I first saw Bob Silverman back east nearly seven years ago. His soaring career as a highly talented and respected dramatic Canadian actor had been suddenly stopped when he was struck down by a speeding car in February of 1976. Bob awoke to a very confusing world where he couldn’t see, hear, taste, smell, feel, or think properly. The medical world that had saved his legs and his life didn’t know what to do to restore his brilliant but injured brain. They finally relegated this confused young man to a rest home where he could do nothing for the remainder of his life. Few amongst us would call that living. It might better be described as a constant state of dying.

Sadly, such a story is neither a cruel fairy tale nor is it a rare incident. In the lives of tens of thousands of young head injury victims, it is a common scenario. Many doctors in evaluating their head injury patients, look on the word “Hope” as a “four letter word.” Yet I wonder, what would the world be like if there was no hope? In my thirty years as a Board Certified Specialist in the field of Rehabilitation, I have seen many head injury and brain injured patients and their families have all hope crushed from their minds by the attitudes and remarks of many doctors dealing with them.

These patients are given two alternatives, spending the rest of their lives in confusion and despair doing nothing, or trying a program involving hard work over a period of years with some possibility of hope. Many families today, as Bob Silverman did seven years ago, are choosing to at least give our program a try.

When I first saw Bob the only thing I promised him was hard work. Fortunately, the thought of hard work didn’t frighten him because he has worked very hard ever since that day. Although he may have had some doubts about us or some parts of his daily program from time to time, Bob never completely lost hope in himself and persevered.

When, a few months ago, I asked Bob to write about his personal struggle to succeed and break free from the depths of doom and despair, I knew that he couldn’t do so without revealing an important attitude of wanting to get better more than anything else in the world. I am happy to be able to tell you that Bob is getting better and better. He is again acting. He moved to Hollywood and is now reevaluated at the NACD National office in Redlands, California, where I have the opportunity to see him every revisit.

Bob was recently nominated for the Canadian equivalent of an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor in a film made since his accident. His film credits are far too numerous to list here. I hope to be able to do so as well as including his article in my book on Head Injuries that will be released in the near future.
To update you on Bob Silverman’s last visit to NACD in May of 1984, he is at the top of our profile with above our scale scores in academics. He has an auditory and visual digit span of eleven. He is totally right-sided in dominance and we are now taking the final steps to make both hemispheres more efficient with bilateral activities including juggling, typing, etc.

Our new goal for Bob Silverman is to help make him better than he was before the car hit him. We can hope, as Bob does, for even greater success.

Reprinted from the Journal of The NACD Foundation (formerly The National Academy for Child Development)

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 5 No. 1, 1984 ©NACD

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