Bon Murphy
State of Washington
Daughter of Member Bonnie Johnson
Please read more about my daughter on this GoFundMe page and consider making a donation to help me free her: Fundraiser by Bonnie Johnson : Guardian Abuse against my brain injured daughter. (gofundme.com).
Please.
“We are all just walking each other home, so put one foot in front of the other and watch for the angels who walk among us”
What I’ve come to realize is, as I learn my new normal, my daughter learns her new normal; as I grieve over the loss of my daughter who I knew for 37 years, my daughter grieves over the loss of “self.” At the same time, we are learning a “new normal” mother/daughter relationship.
Brain injuries are murderers, for while they allow you to keep your intelligence, cognitively and physically, you are very challenged; if not broken and vulnerable to the wolves. My daughter is broken.
On October 22, 2012, our sky fell. I died inside as my daughter lay in a coma blown up twice her petite size. When she woke, she was paralyzed from the neck down. She couldn’t speak. Thankfully within a month, she was moving; a few weeks more, sitting up. I was the lucky one when I picked her up to put her in her wheelchair, she was no longer dead weight. She just stood up. Before this, within a couple of weeks, her voice came back. It was very slurred yet she was talking. Today her slur is doing so much better though she hates it. Who could blame her?
I had lived in Hawaii at the time of my daughter’s injury in southern Cal. The first time we spoke all I heard was a long whisper: “Maaaaaaaa…” I crashed after the call, fell to the floor as if hit by a semi, never to be the same. Once I was cleared for a new diagnosis of epilepsy I was allowed to go to Cal. It was six weeks after my daughter’s injury. I left a whole apartment, all my belongings, knowing I’d be homeless once I got to California. I had $175.00 in my pocket. I didn’t care. My daughter needed me. I needed to be there for my kid.
I was with her each day at the hospital from 7 am to 830 pm for seven months. I cried every night in the gym as I laid my body down on a mat along with 300 other people from all walks of life, all with different levels of sanity; myself included.
When I finally reached the hospital, my daughter was twisted up like a pretzel, her face with the look of a toddler. She had a huge smile but not hers. It was the smile of a baby’s. How could this be? My beautiful daughter?? A wonderful mommy of a four-year-old son? How could this be true? A gorgeous woman with a huge heart? How? NO!
It’s been five years now, a lot of pain during this time period, many mistakes too as I had to wing it. I had to learn a crash course of TBI’s. I hid from reality. It was too much loss; too much reality. I was lost and exhausted. It was too hard. I stuffed my grief so to be able to take care of my daughter. The pain slipped through the cracks though, causing chaos and more pain. I had unpleasant awakenings plus depression and fear. My daughter grieved with such severe depression. My beautiful daughter will never be the same.
We did have many many moments of unbelievable laughter; PBA or not, it was fun. We felt stoned. We were not.
I took care of my darling daughter for two and a half years as I was sworn at, kicked, bit, slugged, and abused verbally and hurtfully. My daughter had never said a swear word to me in her life. I believe if she was able to walk those first two years, we’d both be dead. She soon turned her abuse on herself. She would punch her face. Hard. She’d pull out locks of hair, scratch her face bloody and scream, “Please mom kill me.” I’d be holding her, to keep her as safe as I could, as we waited for the paramedics. I got pretty battered up myself. I didn’t care. It was so painful emotionally.
I had been taught to walk out of the room when she went into a rage; come back a few minutes later with a different subject. Because of the short term memory loss, my daughter would forget almost immediately what she had yelled at me about. Soon she caught onto this though and it just pissed her off. It was different when she turned her rage inward. My daughter wanted to die. I wanted to die.
After a year, I was told I too had two brain injuries. I said, “Thank God I’m not crazy,” for that’s how I felt. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know it was two brain injuries though.
Five years prior, I had fallen on my right eyebrow shattering the whole right side of my face, which now has Titanium plates. I have one holding up my right eye. I also died twice from two cardiac arrests. Along with epilepsy, I was a mess, trying my best to be the “wonder woman mother” as both my daughter and I were destroyed. I just kept working on keeping us above water. Slowly I sank. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself, with one hand, hold my daughter above the water as I was already below the surface.
My daughter is now in a different state. I haven’t seen her in three years. She’s in a TBI REHAB. Hopefully, she will be coming home soon; not soon enough for she needs her son; her heart. I need my daughter; my heart. I haven’t the funds to see her. If I do a Gofundme, I lose my SSDI. I just want to hold her. I just want to hold my kid.
I’m very angry. I’ve lost my faith. I live in anger, hate, and depression something as a kid I worked so hard on not becoming when I was a young adult. Baby steps. It has to be all about Baby steps. Anything larger than that is sure to bring destruction.
Friday I talk with my kid. I’m so excited but it’s never long enough. We’ve been through the wringer in so many ways for five years.
A month ago I fell on the same side of my head I had five years prior. I had a severe concussion. I said to the doctor, “Please be honest, I have another brain injury right?”
He said, with his head held down, “Yes, I’m so sorry dear.”
I’ve really noticed a difference this time compared to the last two times; both cognitively and physically. Yet I would still change places with my daughter in a NY minute!
TBI’s don’t take away our smarts. My daughter is so intelligent she gets to FEEL ALL HER LOSSES: loss of being a daily mommy, loss of all her friends, including two of 26 years. She gets to FEEL the loss of feeding herself, dressing, showering herself plus because of the weakness in her back she isn’t able to walk. For now. She gets to feel the loss of independence, loss of making her own decisions, loss of being able to go to school to be an RN she would have been. My daughter gets to feel the loss of work, loss of driving. With severe tremors, my daughter lives “as if” in a straight jacket. I agonize over my kid’s agony. We live in a Stephen King novel.
I feel as if I am in the middle of the street; suffocating, and no one can see me dying.
My mom came from the Holocaust. I use to say she was the strongest woman I have ever met. I must say now, it’s my daughter who amazes me with her determination; thrive to work on herself getting better. Her strength and her class are endless. She’s so very strong. While growing up she never thought she was. After the injury, now she knows how strong she really is.
I’ll Never leave my kid; I’ll never give up on her. Despite Anything, I will always advocate for her. Better days ahead, I pray, as I suffer from intense grief along with my own cognitive struggles from three TBI’s. Baby steps.
I see you, my love. I feel you, my beautiful daughter. Your pain is understood by me. I’ll never leave you. Your heart is still intact. Your intelligence is still intact. Your beautiful smile will never leave you. Your heart will always soar.
Our connection is undeniable.
Please wake up.
As I learn my new normal, as my daughter learns hers, while I grieve over the loss of the daughter I knew for thirty-seven years, my daughter grieves over the loss of “SELF.” At the same time, we both are learning a “new normal” mother/daughter relationship.
-A MOTHER’S LOVE-
After two and a half years of taking care of my daughter, with no help from any of the rest of the family, the caseworker I had found said there was a hospital in Tulsa. My daughter would be there for six months. The doctors would work closely with me and Bon would love it there. Bon was told all the patients were looking forward to meeting her and it’s like family. Even, at that time, if I knew something wasn’t right my daughter and the family would have chopped my head off and I’d be slaughtered for not letting her go.
This woman, Nancy Weber, from the hospital, Brookhaven, had been introduced to me by the caseworker, Janet Mott, as a scientist and the Supervisor of the hospital. Actually she was just another caseworker on a different floor. It was the beginning of many lies that destroyed both my daughter and I. I soon realized we had been baited right from the beginning of knowing this Janet Mott from the Brain Injury Association of all places.
When my daughter had left she called me the next day crying. She stated it was not as explained. The patients screamed constantly at each other. The nurses were mean.
I also had my own troubles with Brookhaven. On the second day that my daughter was there, one nurse rudely said to me, “I don’t have to talk to you,” and hung up on me.
I called back right away. I calmly said, “Excuse me, I am not just Bonnie’s mother, I’m also her Legal Guardian, yes you do have to talk to me.” She passed the phone to the charge nurse who in a phony tone, spoke with me.
The doctor called me on the second day my daughter was there, asked for me to write down how my daughter had done over the last year and he said he will get back to me. Not once did he not only get back to me I could never reach him despite many messages I left with the nurses. Not once in three and a half years did I ever speak with this doctor again. This was explained by the caseworker, Janet Mott, as harassment toward the nurses. Thus became three and a half years of Hell for both my daughter and myself.
Four months after my daughter was there Janet Mott took me to court. She stole my Guardianship by perjury which I most definitely can prove though the courts aren’t interested. Actually, when I had taken her to court I was chewed up and spit out.
For two years I advocated for my daughter to be brought to a Neuropthomologist for her eyes were blurry. She had double vision. Her eyes shook up and down. Ms. Mott stated that my daughter wouldn’t wear her glasses. My daughter had long given up. She had told Ms Mott and the hospital over and over that the glasses made her eyes worse. I kept on Janet’s back who eventually when my daughter’s eyes became crossed, she was brought to the doctor. She had surgery for the cross-eyes but the rest was to late to take care of. Since then my daughter is half-blind. On another occasion my daughter was given a very dangerous drug, Merrill. It previously had been taken off the market worldwide for its serious side effects. I had no idea why it was brought back on the market. It would cause an uncontrollable lack of muscle control. Even if the drug was stopped, the side effect would never go away. My daughter’s chances of walking have now disappeared since the loss of decent eyesight and her arms swinging all over, her body unable to sit still. My daughter, at home, would stand on her own. My daughter would walk just with holding my hands. During this time, my daughter still managed to walked with a small walker down a long hall and back. Two days later her Physical Therapy was taken away from her. So was her Speech and OT was taken from her. My daughter had a determination and was the hardest worker on the floor. She had a good chance of wellness in the future. Now, it would take a miracle and staff that cared to help her reach that miracle.
My daughter, for no reason, was kept from me. Often. I was only allowed to speak with her for fifteen minutes twice a month. My daughter wasn’t there for only six months as promised. She was there for three and a half long years. I hadn’t the money to go see her, which was torture for us both. When she came back to Washington, when we saw each other for the first time, we held each other for over a half-hour. We cried and clutched each other to no end.
While at Brookhaven, I was accused that I constantly called the staff. I was informed that I harassed them. I was told I had upset them. I was told by my daughter’s so-called neuropsychologist that I constantly upset my daughter. My daughter told me she never said that. I knew that. The so-called Neuropsychologist as it turned out, was just a counselor, not even a psychologist of any kind.
Many many lies were told during that period to both my daughter and me. It was the worst horrible time we suffered through. We thought.
When my daughter came back to Washington, seven hours away in Spokane, I wasn’t told where she was or her phone number. They kept me from her for a year. When I finally saw her they would bring her to my hotel and we had supervised visits for two days. My daughter was grinding her teeth. The head of the department said she does it all day and night and that they needed to get a referral from the doctor. I never heard of such a ridiculous thing. I asked her, “When will you do that?” She ignored me and looked back down toward her book.
More lies developed until one visit in November of 2019 my daughter told me her male Aide was touching her inappropriately in the shower. I told her Guardian who completely ignored me so I called APS. I never saw my daughter again. I never heard from her again. I never heard from the Guardian again, despite my several emails filled with the same questions as the last one. The last time I saw my beautiful daughter was November 6th, 2019, four months.
-A MOTHER’S LOVE-
