The Day I Got Hit by the Tortilla Truck

By Dorrin Rosenfeld

I was the survivor of a collision with a tortilla truck while in the Peace Corps in Belize. This is the story of my Healing following a Traumatic Brain Injury. My journey starts with my time in the Peace Corps before and after my injury. I graduated from the Peace Corps to Chiropractic School and was able to become a full-fledged Chiropractor.

Life is anything but a straight and narrow path and this book is about my particular experience navigating that journey. Aside from being a dramatic and light-hearted memoir, this story illustrates my belief that each person has some gift to give the world. Sometimes that quality is hidden until some outside force exposes it—my situation. I believe we can use these often trying moments to advance our lives and enhance the existence of others.

We usually get what we ask for. This is the case whether we realize it at the time or not. It's amazing how we go through our lives literally thinking thousands of thoughts per day. Some of them describe our feelings or wishes. It's so easy to dismiss most of our thoughts, however some are a direct question, which subsequent thoughts or experiences can answer for us.

I learned by writing this book that I have a guardian angel watching out for me and protecting me from life-threatening harm (although I manage to push the boundaries). This book was written with the proviso that anything short of death can be overcome. It might take awhile, and the journey is often hard, but the rewards are immeasurable. More than that, we can find help along the way in one form or another, though our experiences and mishpocha—the Hebrew word for family, both genetic and personally-chosen.

This book describes my accident and how I overcame it. Everyone's particular journey is unique, but the belief that any seeming insurmountable obstacle can be overcome, allowed me to persevere through the long tedious journey to the next step. This book shows how I did it; and some of the strategies I employed may be adapted and used by others.

Enjoy the account of my miracle and be inspired to create your own!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrin Rosenfeld
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798320809489

Book preview

To all brain-injured folk out there in our world. I discovered in school that even with no obvious symptoms, all traumas can affect the brainstem and nervous system function. Unlike what I heard in the hospital, we can do it!!

Contents

Foreword

Part I: Bam! My New Life

No Ordinary Morning

My New Home

We Get What We Ask For

Victim to Survivor

Kish High School

Amherst College

US Peace Corps

Care Package

Preparations For Leaving

Return to Belize

Decisions, Decisions

Part II: Preparations for Becoming a Doctor

Living in Los Angeles

LACC

SCCC

LCCW

My Famous Moment

My Husband

Bob’s History

Bob’s Wish

The Girl from Atlantis

The Adjustment That Changed my Life

Monkey Chow

Seminars

Upper Cervical Conspiracy

Toastmasters in School

My Introduction to Epilepsy

Clinical Experience

State Chiropractic Board Exams

The Insurance Nightmare that is OWCP

Marriage

Miracle Chiropractic

San Bernardino

The Power of Upper Cervical Work

Chester Wilk Versus the AMA

The Medical Meat Grinder

Part III: Living as a Doctor

State of the Art Chiropractic

Direct Influence with my Life

Vallejo

CCA

Familiarity with Emergency Rooms

A Workable Solution

My Experience with the Dishonesty of the US Government

Toastmasters

My Guardian Angel has a Sense of Humor

I’m Getting Too Old for These Neurological Disruptions

State of the Art, Final Location

The Actions of One Person Can Make a Difference

Foreword

This is the story of my healing throughout a lifetime. I have the special advantage of being given a starring role in a story that’s uniquely bizarre. It’s my pleasure to broadcast my adventures, exemplified by the two qualities I most admire, education and humor, to the world.

I want to thank those family, friends, acquaintances, patients, and mentors I had throughout the last 40 years who’ve played a part in my life-path and allowed this story to emerge. Thank you for your understanding, love, patience with me, gentle pushing, and constant encouragement.

I graduated from a school that has many famous authors. I just assumed writing a book was something Amherst College graduates did. I took no English courses while there, but I always knew I could write a book, if the opportunity came up. Then life interfered, and gave me a story to tell.

This combined well with my Judaism in that I had always learned the crucial importance of passing on one’s history and stories to the next generation. I just got through the presidency of my local synagogue (Congregation B’nai Israel) for several years, which reinforced that legacy. It cannot skip notice that Judaism is rich with a history of entertainers and comedians as inspiration.

I thank my mother, Roberta Rosenfeld, for giving some stories of my initial hospitalization and for fact checking Part I. Since she was one of few people there through entire ordeal, I was able to get some stories from her.

In the same vein, my husband, Robert Marlin Woolery, was able to contribute many stories from our time in school and later, as Chiropractors. He reminded me of several stories along our paths, and then he was able to fact check our struggles and lives following my injury. Most of all, he lived with me while I wrote this!

I must mention Toastmasters International for reminding me that I have a voice which can be trusted. In my dozen years there, I refined my story-telling skills. I loved talking and continued on with several radio spots, the last of which is ongoing. I am a monthly host on www.BrainInjuryRadioNetwork.com.

Speaking of previous activities, I wrote chapters in two books: The Well-Adjusted Soul, by Fabrizio Mancini, DC, and Heroes, Leaders, Legends: The Power of the Human Spirit, by Pat Sampson. While doing this, I realized how much fun writing was. Since I now had a story, there was nothing stopping me.

Those people who helped with this project deserve my sincere thanks. Laura Sherman was my initial lay-out expert. She was able to get me started as I had a bunch of short stories with no idea how to organize them.

Then I was able to utilize the services of an editor I found in a computer search for final editing. I figured my work was ready to go, but I had never written an entire book before. I knew I needed another pair of eyes. I’d read enough novels, biographies, and non-fiction works that I had a general idea, but I had no idea of technical rules for putting it all together.

Finally, my neighbor and friend, Diane Hume is a book designer. We spent a fair amount of time together looking at pictures and discussing how to arrange this document. She designed and typeset this book and its cover for publication. Diane wishes to thank Caryn Leschen for  her help with the cover.

I want to thank my friends and patients for providing insights, stories, and some good laughs. I apologize to those who shared stories, which didn’t get included in this book. Any mistakes or inaccuracies are my own. 

I had a great time writing this life story and I am only halfway through my life, according to Deuteronomy, which gives us 120 years, as my husband often reminds me.

Part I

Bam!

My New Life

No Ordinary Morning

First impressions are powerful. This was apparently my new reality: I was in bed in a room that appeared sterile. There was an unfamiliar window looking out on a cold, glaring whiteness—the kind of scene found in a typical winter in the Northeast. This was very odd, because I knew that I was in Belize, Central America as a Peace Corps volunteer. 

Since I’d grown up in Pennsylvania, I unfortunately knew this weather. I didn’t need my glasses to tell me that much. Belize cools some in the winter, but there’s no snow in the area; it’s a tropical country, after all.

I didn’t recognize the room. It was much cleaner and less cluttered than any living situation I’d been in before. I’d always liked brilliant sunny spaces, but this room was virtually empty except for me, my bed, and the impression of bright, biting, winter air.

After several minutes of total disorientation, I tried to move to get a better look. That’s when I realized I was tied into bed. Huh? There were cords attached to my hands and feet—no, they were the standard issue sheepskin padded cuffs that hospitals use. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? If so, I did not find it very funny...

The nagging concern, though, was why I had the impression of snow. I reached for my glasses on the table beside me because I couldn’t do a thing without them. The bonds holding my arms made any movement very difficult. But my second pair of eyes were not there. Why not? That’s where I always keep them.

After some slightly desperate calling for help, I realized I couldn’t even yell; I could barely talk. My voice was quiet and thick. Was I in a dream? That would explain the lack of glasses, the unfamiliar surroundings, and my inability to figure out where I was, or why. Was this really me? This joke had gone just a step too far.

That’s when I noticed a buzzer to call for someone beside my bed. I pushed it. When nothing happened right away, I pushed it again, impatience getting the better of me.

I would later find out that my mind had condensed several weeks into one morning. What appeared as one day was actually three weeks, six if you want to count my total coma as well. During that time, I’d changed locations, time, weather, physical ability, and frame-of-reference.

Talk about a total out-of-body experience.

My New Home

Welcome to the Greenery, a private hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. It was for those with such severe head-injuries that they cannot function in real life, as we affectionately refer to what’s going on around us. It was March of 1986, and I was sent there from the neuro-psychiatric intensive care facility at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Florida. I had been transported by helicopter (medevacked) from Orange Walk Town in Belize, Central America back in Dec. of 1985.

When I was in this state, my father attempted to brainwash me. He told me I loved to clean the house and do dishes—two things which I distinctly hated with a passion. After several statements to the effect of how much I loved those chores, I finally broke in with a No, Daddy, I don’t. That cracked everyone up and my family knew I was on my way to recovering completely.

A prior indication of my future prognosis was when my family gathered to celebrate Passover in the hospital in FL. My parents asked me if I remembered the traditional candle-lighting blessings. I told them that I did not. When they began singing heaven-knows-what, I chimed in with the correct blessings, using what little voice I had.

Over the next few weeks, I was able to piece together the following reality. I was no longer a volunteer in the Peace Corps. I was no longer a high school chemistry teacher at Muffles College (the British version of high school) in Belize. I was in a hospital in Boston. But what had happened from Dec. 1985 until February 1986? I could no longer walk or coherently speak, nor could most of the people who were surrounding me.

I assimilated all of this through second-hand information as I had lost those couple months permanently. A coma can be a life-preserving state and it certainly was in my case. I was still only partially aware of my surroundings, which was probably a good thing because if I had fully known where I was and why, the shock would not have been good for me. I didn’t fracture any of my bones; I was just temporarily bereft of any control of my body.

I know the doctors must have done all the usual reflex and strength tests, imaging modalities, and physical exams. I knew, although I couldn’t really communicate with others, that this wasn’t me. It was my mind and long-term memories to be sure, but neither my body, nor my familiar mind was there. This was the new me—Dorrin B. Rosenfeld (DBR), version two.

There is no way to express my state on a standard exam form except to say that The patient appeared disoriented following a several-week period of no short-term memory, following a severe brain trauma. It was clear acute post-concussion syndrome. This is the medical definition; there is none from the patient’s point of view. However, to be accurate, most diagnoses are not given for the patient; they are applied so the medical team knows what to expect and treat, and which medications to give. I learned later that this condition is fairly common following a head injury.

This representation could not possibly begin to adequately capture my condition, though I have never found a better description for it—a diagnosis that expresses the absolute bewilderment of my position.

As for my real-time state, I’d regained consciousness, but not short-term memory. In other words, I’d soon forget whatever I’d been told. Thankfully, that condition improved over the next year and a half. However, I permanently lost