by Michael Smith
On a frigid afternoon, Feb. 6, 1990, a soon-to-retire human resources
director asked me for a favor. I, a promising young executive of age 33, was
asked to look for a personnel file in an old tractor trailer that he had
delivered to our warehouse dock.
I liked him for hiring me so I granted him this favor. The trailer had about
12 pallets of legal size file boxes stacked 5 high. I removed my suit coat
and decided, with flashlight in hand, to check the top layer to see if I got
lucky. I was looking for the file of a man who worked for us in 1985 who now
had applied for a government job and needed a background check. Looking for
a box from 1985 with names between S-Z, I began my dusty search.
As I got farther back I heard swear words from the loading dock. A warehouse
worker then closed the tractor trailer door. The only light was from my
little squeeze-style mini flashlight. The trailer was backed up to the
loading dock with the trailer outside. It was Feb. 6 in Detroit, Mich. and I
was locked in a tractor trailer.
For a freezing second I thought the door closure to be a practical joke, but
why the swearing? It was 3:30 and the warehouse first shift was ending.
There was no second shift. Third shift started at 11:30 p.m. of which
sitting in a tractor trailer in 20-degree Michigan winter weather wearing an
undershirt, suit pants and trying to walk on stacked legal size storage
boxes without bumping my head on the ceiling was challenging even when I had
the light of the warehouse and when the door was open. As time dragged on, I
knew this was going to end badly. The man was fired if I got out. He knew it
too.
In a sudden jerk of the trailer door all I could see was bright light. I
scrambled to my feet about 20 feet of boxes to run on until I got to the
trailer floor, then another 25 feed to get past the warehouse worker to
freedom. I ran well until the last pallet when I either bumped my head on
the ceiling, or the last box collapsed. All I know is I woke up 20 feet
farther than that being kicked over and over again. I somehow asked, ³why?²
and passed out.
As someone who experienced workplace violence, I ask employers to do drug
testing on potential employees. The man who attacked me was a crack addict
late for his fix and just didn¹t like a man on his dock wearing a suit. I
somehow got home. My landlord, worried about me, filed a missing person
check to find me in a combination of blood, urine and feces. I had somehow
gotten home and passed out with a concussion. The blood from a non-bleeding
head trauma killed many blood cells. The trauma to the back of my brain from
a likely fall killed many brain cells.
I was taken to emergency where it was determined I was in some kind of fall.
My personal doctor was notified as well as my dentist to help deal with
eight broken teeth. I was given a lot of pain medication and ordered a lot
of bed rest.
These experiences are remembered through medical files. I feel a lot that
transpired after the injuries was from some kind of automatic pilot that
nature had instilled in us after major trauma.
The brain injury received the most attention. I had a bald spot on my head
where I must have skidded falling from the boxes. I also had a blood colored
scar above my right eye with a torn eyebrow. I looked pretty nasty.
It took a good year for the insurance company to allow any brain injury
treatment. They were constantly sending me to insurance doctors for testing.
Finally, year two I was allowed to go to the University of Michigan for
outpatient treatment. At this point I still didn¹t remember that I had been
attacked. I had nightmares that I didn¹t understand.
If you or yours is in an accident, is attacked, or even has a stroke try to
document as much as possible. The littlest item may help health care
providers because the patient¹s ability to communicate is compromised. The
first months are the most important for treatment so get a lawyer if you
have to. Be sure to analyze you and your family¹s safety. Are you wearing
bike, ski or proper motorcycle helmets? Analyze your health. Are you
exercising your brain?
Lastly, have fun. Who knows when your health can drastically change?
Note: The man who attacked me admitted and didn¹t care. Since I only have
flashes of the attack he was never charged with a crime though the pharmacy
company I worked for let him go. He is currently serving a life sentence for
killing a man at a party at his house. He bludgeoned him to death.
I am a trained St. Mary¹s Hospice Volunteer. I have helped numerous victims
with leads from the National Brain Injury Association
Michael J. Smith is a brain injury/health awareness advocate. Douglas County
commissioners proclaimed March 22-26 Brain Injury Awareness week at their
meeting on March 18.