When life paused: A family’s journey through traumatic brain injury

Gayathri Shankaranarayanan, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Background

In August last year, our world shifted in a split second. My father – my rock, my constant -met with a serious accident that changed the course of our lives. He suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), which led to multiple hemorrhages and an emergency procedure to insert external ventricular drains (EVDs) due to intraventricular ballooning. The speed and severity of what followed left our entire family reeling.

For over 25 days, he remained in a coma. The days blurred into nights as we sat by his bedside, willing him to wake, hoping for even the smallest signs of movement, of awareness, of fight. During this time, we learned to live in limbo, celebrating a twitch of the hand, holding onto a blink as a sign of progress. It was only 90 days later that he slowly opened his eyes for the first time. That moment, when he looked at us, was both miraculous and heartbreaking. He could see us, yes, but we didn’t know if he recognized who we were, or if he remembered anything at all.

Today, my father is in a nursing care facility. He still has a tracheostomy and receives nutrition through a nasogastric tube. Communication remains limited, and his recovery continues to unfold slowly. But he has made minute steps – steps that might go unnoticed to the untrained eye, yet speak volumes to those who are watching closely with hope. From once being unable to come off ventilator support, he is now slowly learning to breathe through his nose. These are the moments, quiet, flickering signs of strength, that we hold on to. They’re what keep us going.

This journey has been one of heartbreak and learning, but also of resilience. As a family, we’ve had to grow stronger, more patient, and more present than we ever imagined. I wanted to share a few reflections, in the hope that they may help others walking a similar path:

1. Prepare for a marathon, not a sprint

Recovery from TBI is slow, nonlinear, and deeply individual. Some days will feel hopeful; others will knock the wind out of you. Trust that progress is still happening, even when it’s hard to see. Hold yourself steady during a down tide. After every sunset, is a sunrise.

2. Accept the reality to move forward

One of the hardest but most necessary steps is to stop asking “Why did this happen?” and start focusing on “What do we do now?” Acceptance doesn’t mean giving up hope – it means grounding yourself in the present so you can fight for what’s ahead.

3. Advocate, ask questions, and be present

The medical world can feel like another language. Don’t hesitate to ask for clarity, request updates, or seek second opinions. Your presence – your questions, your watchful eyes, your love – matters more than you realize.

4. Build a partnership with your medical team

A stellar care team can make all the difference. Engage in constant dialogue with them,

discuss potential actions, ask about possible outcomes, and stay open to trying new

approaches based on how your loved one responds. Healing is rarely linear; it requires

ongoing adaptation, trust, and shared decision-making.

5. Share your spirit

Your loved one may not always be able to respond but they still feel. Speak to them,

encourage them, hold their hand, play their favorite music. More than anything, they need your optimism, your strength, and your unwavering belief that they are still in there.

6. Accept help and create a support system

You can’t do this alone. Whether it’s leaning on family & friends for emotional support, seeking therapy, or asking someone to bring food or handle paperwork, accepting support is not a weakness. It’s survival.

7. Celebrate the small wins

A glance. A movement. A response. These become your victories. Don’t measure your loved one’s progress by conventional timelines. Every tiny sign of recovery is monumental in its own right.

8. Be kind to yourself

Grief, guilt, helplessness, anger, fatigue they all coexist in this journey. You’re doing your best in circumstances no one is prepared for. Offer yourself the same tenderness you offer your loved one.

I never imagined I’d be telling this story. But if sharing our experience can provide even a sliver of hope or comfort to another daughter, son, or spouse standing in an ICU hallway, then it’s worth every word.

To anyone going through this: you are not alone. And neither is your loved one.

Author Information

Written by Gayathri Shankaranarayanan, in honor of my father: whose quiet strength continues to guide us, with love to every family walking this path. And with deep gratitude for my mother, whose unwavering spirit has held us all together.

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