Tara Restivo’s Story

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It started out as a perfect winter day in Florida with bright and sunny skies. My spirits were high as I headed out on a Monday morning in February to visit homes with my real estate agent, and contemplated the exciting new journey that lay ahead for my husband and me with our planned move from Virginia.

After visiting a few homes, my realtor suggested we visit a new community just being built. Upon arriving at the model home, we entered the home’s two bay garage, which was set up as a sales office, complete with desks, chairs and wall-to-wall carpeting. A sales agent greeted us and asked me to fill out some information on a clipboard while he finished up with other potential buyers. Looking down at the clipboard as I walked towards a chair, I tripped on a concrete slab step that led from the garage to the main house. I pitched forward whereupon I banged my forehead on a desk, then catapulted backwards slamming the back of my head onto the floor. It all happened so quickly. I never even saw the step, probably because it, too, was carpeted and blended in with the rest of the floor.

I don’t know how much time elapsed before I was put into an ambulance and I recall little about the trip to the hospital. I remember the EMT asked me questions, but I couldn’t put it all together. I was disoriented and profoundly confused. I kept thinking it was time to wake up.

Even in the hospital, I didn’t really understand what was going on. My head and neck were strapped into a neck brace. I was given an IV and had multiple x-rays.  Once the attending ER doctor determined that I didn’t have a serious medical condition, such as a brain bleed, he left to tend to the urgent medical needs of other patients.  By late evening, I was discharged from the ER, given some nausea medication and told to take it easy for the next few days. At that point it seemed logical to think that with a few days rest I’d be back to normal and headed back home on my scheduled Saturday flight.  There was absolutely no reason for my husband, Bob, to fly to Florida or postpone his scheduled business trip to Palm Springs on Wednesday. Or, so we thought.

Upon my release from the hospital, my sister gave me a ride back to her house where I was staying and I immediately went to bed and slept. The next day I felt fatigued and disconnected from the world around me – almost like I was in a dream.  I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. I just wanted to sleep.  On Wednesday there was a rapid and alarming decline in my condition.  I started experiencing a rocking sensation. It felt like I was on a boat in choppy seas.  My balance was off and I had to be helped in and out of bed. I suffered a constant ringing in my ears and an uncontrollable twitching. On top of these very concerning symptoms, I developed problems with my speech, had difficulty opening my left eye and my mouth drooped. Not having any previous experience with concussions or a medical background, my family members were shocked by these latest and dramatic physical changes and worried that I might be having a stroke.

My sister brought me back to the ER early that afternoon.  I was immediately put on an IV and given an MRI and CAT scan.  Later that evening I was admitted to the hospital where I would spend the next two days.  The attending ER doctor advised my sister  that  a CAT scan revealed a spot on my brain, a meningioma, that could possibly require brain surgery.  A neurosurgeon was scheduled to see me the next morning, he said.  My sister immediately called my husband, who having spent the last seven plus hours in a plane to California and had no idea of my precipitous decline.  With the new knowledge that my condition could be many times more serious than we had initially thought, Bob scrambled to find a flight to Florida. The next 12 hours were sheer hell for us as we faced the terror of what might lie ahead, while separated by over 2500 miles.  The situation had in just a couple of days escalated from a concussion that would resolve in a couple of days of rest to the frightening prospect of brain surgery.

The next morning the neurosurgeon came to my room and quickly and calmly reassured us that the spot was a nonevent and had nothing to do with the concussion. We were told that lots of people have meningiomas and only learn this if they have imaging scans for unrelated reasons, such as concussions. We learned that they grow very slowly, often over many, many years without causing symptoms. Needless, to say we were tremendously relieved – and furious at the ED doctor who had set us on a terrifying emotional path.

The neurosurgeon, having determined that surgery was not needed, left us to the care of a neurologist. The neurologist explained that an inflammation was causing the eye swelling and drooping mouth and that I should see an ophthalmologist. I was started on high doses of IV steroids to bring down the inflammation.  With my husband now at my bedside and a neurologist who  relieved our anxieties and fear, I felt renewed hope that I would soon be cured of my symptoms.  The next morning, a Friday, I was again released from the hospital.

But as the days went on I experienced even more problems with my speech –  my speech was slow and I couldn’t easily find the right words to articulate my thoughts. Noise and light bothered me, and the ringing in my ears was a constant. 

Through all of this I continued to be told that recovery would take time and that I needed to rest.  Bob describes next week at my sister’s as agonizing.  Although I was conscious, I was largely unresponsive. I stayed quiet and in a dark room, following what we understood as the right path to healing.  Finally on Saturday, eight days after my most recent release from the hospital, my husband, seeing no improvement in my condition, asked if I felt well enough to take a short walk.  Having accomplished this small feat, we took a short drive to the ocean the next day.

Although I still had speech, eye and balance problems, my world gradually started coming alive again and two weeks after my second release from the hospital, I felt well enough to  be driven home – but not to fly – to Virginia.

While en route, my husband was able to get me an appointment that same week at a very advanced concussion clinic in Loudoun County where we live.  The stars must have been aligned as we were first told that the first available appointment was two weeks out.  While Bob was on the phone with the clinic explaining how critical he thought my situation, another patient called to cancel an appointment.  Knowing that  physical therapy for my balance, eye and speech issues would begin shortly brought tremendous relief.

I was scheduled for PT three times a week over a three month period. The clinic not only helped my symptoms improve, they also helped me understand what had happened to my brain as a result of my concussion and what to expect going forward. I was reassured to learn that with PT, I’d see continued improvements with my issues. Unfortunately, COVID hit and interrupted my clinic visits for a time.  By the end of May following a combination of in-clinic visits, home exercises and some PT via Zoom, I was able to stop going to PT.