Alumna is Victorian Senior Australian of the Year

Christine Durham’s story is one of hope.

In 1991, Dr Durham was involved in a serious car accident.

“I was really smashed up,” she says.

“I had about 42 breaks to my chest, so I was in agony for a couple of years – I still am in agony!”

Dr Durham also received significant brain injuries, which doctors feared would leave her permanently incapacitated. 

“I was told the brain would improve during the first six months, yet at the end of that time I still couldn’t feed myself and I felt very bewildered,” she says. 

Panic set in and hope dissipated.

“The doctors then said that after two years’ recuperation, you plateau out,” Dr Durham says.

“At the two-year mark, life was a real struggle – I could hardly get about and I thought, ‘Well this is just awful’.”

Dr Durham’s emotions focused on anger, as the driver at fault for the crash remained unapologetic.

An unlikely source though presented her with the realisation hatred is wasted energy.

“I found symbols spoke to me more than words, because I couldn’t understand words,” she says.

“I was having a shower and using Paris soap, of which my husband Ted gives me a case every birthday.

“I was thinking, ‘this is a luxury – isn’t it wonderful that we can afford to buy this soap every now and then?’”

The epiphany was profound – the soap representing one of life’s joys and an antidote to her resentment.

“It hit me out of the blue that hating this man was a luxury I couldn’t afford,” she says.

“I had this realisation that hatred held me back and that I couldn’t heal until I let it go.”

Another hurdle lay with her family, from whom she felt emotionally isolated.

“I thought, ‘My husband doesn’t love me, because no one could love this hideous creature I’ve become’ – I was always a mess and I felt shocking.”

Again, symbolism aided Dr Durham’s recovery.

“I was picking honesty (the flower) in the garden and it spoke to me, telling me I needed to be honest with my husband,” she says.

“So I said to Ted, ‘You don’t really love me’, and he explained that he did love me, but that he saw things differently.”

Brain injury and recovery’s hardships too often isolate sufferers from their loved ones. They are locked in a grim struggle, trying to overcome their own limitations and being unable to freely communicate with others.

Dr Durham’s conversation with her husband opened a new window.

“Suddenly trying to understand that he was suffering too was interesting, because until that point I had felt so sorry for myself – I couldn’t see anyone else’s suffering as being anything other than minimal.”

Dr Durham’s experiences inspired her to write about her condition and the seemingly hopeless situation faced by many others with acquired brain injuries. Her first book, Doing Up Buttons, appeared in 1997 and chronicled her rehabilitation. An incident in the United States greatly informed her outlook.

“I travelled over to the US, thinking the information about brain injury would be greater in America due to there being more people with brain injuries,” she says.

Visiting Brooklyn’s chapter of the Brain Injury Association impressed on Dr Durham the knowledge that improvement is limitless.

“A gentleman got up at a meeting and said, ‘You keep on improving until the day you die’,” she says.

“That suddenly opened a door for me to realise I could keep improving my situation, well after the two-year mark.”

Dr Durham became a full-time advocate for brain injury sufferers. Her studies expanded and in 2001 she published Chasing Ideas: The fun of freeing your child’s imagination. A teacher by trade, she encourages positive thinking and adaptability. Hope remains the predominant virtue.

“I believe in the plasticity of the human spirit and that’s just as important as the plasticity of the brain,” she says.

“It’s only recently that we’re starting to look at how belief opens up the possibility that people can do things they previously thought impossible.”

Dr Durham explains that many brain injury sufferers feel ‘locked in’, resulting in dislocation and depression.

“Many brain injury sufferers lose their families,” she says.

“I think that’s because a lot of people don’t understand brain injury. If they understood the condition a bit more, they might have more sympathy.”

Dr Durham discovered that for some an unlikely positive could be drawn from brain injury.

“I interviewed three people during my PhD who said brain injury was both the worst and the best thing that had happened to them,” she says.

“They appreciate being alive and they’re aware of their strengths and weaknesses; they feel wise.”

http://alumni.unimelb.edu.au/