Cowboy Strong and Poetry Sweet…Love In the Age of MTBI

MTBI: Mild Traumatic Brain Injury — Most traumatic brain injuries result in damage to the brain because the brain ricochets inside the skull during the impact of an accident. Mild Traumatic Brain Injury, also called closed head injury or post-concussion syndrome, is a condition where an individual suffers a mild concussion, whiplash, or blow to the head and subsequently develops symptoms such as recurring head pain, cognitive difficulties, emotional and personality changes, hypersensitivity to light or sound, nerve damage, memory difficulties….

pete 2You meet someone and there’s a thought: “He seems like a nice guy.” Not much else, not yet. Tall, handsome, in a Charlie Brown tee and cuffed jeans—yes, we laughed about that later—but the eyes were blue, the smile warm, the first impression amiable. No particular fireworks, no spiritual recognition, no sense of destiny, just a nice guy. Eight months later we were married and today we celebrate our 20th anniversary. That first impression? We’ve gotten beyond cuffed jeans and the tees have been replaced by Tommy Bahamas. The guy? Still so very nice.

Every couple has their “how’d you meet?” story, and ours is particularly useful because it offers both the story and a casual reminder that I actually did get a film made at one point in my illustrious career, convenient two-birding at a time when blowing one’s horn just seems crass. There was this film, from a screenplay I wrote with the inimitable Patricia Royce, called To Cross the Rubicon, which was being produced by the Seattle film group — of which Patricia was a partner—called The Lensman Company. All very exciting and imminently life-changing (though perhaps not in quite the ways I imagined!). At some point early in the process I went to the company office housed in a beautiful old building near the Pike Street Market, and was greeted at the door by company partner and Rubicon director, Barry Caillier, standing in conversation with company attorney, Peter J. Wilke, Esq. We got on with the aforementioned first meeting and I got on with my day. Not long after, Mr. Wilke, Esq. negotiated my contract for the film, I flew back to LA to record a song for the soundtrack; he came to LA for various business reasons, we inexplicably ended up at Disneyland, and somewhere between spinning nausea on Star Tours, sparking lust on the Log Ride, and realization that this man was the kindest, most patient human being on earth (who, on a first date, sits for an hour with his hand on the forehead of a queasy blonde chick without one word of complaint?!), I fell in love. It seems he did, too.

young Pete w:catBeing married is an interesting journey. You start off with a powerful cache of feeling, an idealized sense of this person you’re latching yourself to, and yet a firm grip on the point and purpose of your commitment. At least that was my experience. But learning about your mate is really the adventure, isn’t it? Pete was unlike any man I’d ever known. Quiet and laconic, like a lawyerly Gary Cooper, he was born in the Scandinavian-rich state of Minnesota (Norwegian and Swedish on respective sides of family), spent the wonder years in Southern California, Montana for that very impressionable high school era, then bounced between Washington and California for college. A major sports booster, he vacillates between team colors for UCLA and the Montana Grizzlies, and will even make note of Gonzaga on a good day.

Pete_senior picIt seems Montana is where he found a most inherent part of his identity; the rough and tumble cowboy spirit with a love for sports and the great outdoors and all that big sky appreciation of nature and its regal beauty. Regardless of where life took him after that period, Montana was in his blood and it remains an archetype of sorts; an almost mythical ideal of the balance between man and nature. In fact, when it came time for his most recent high school reunion, he took himself into a Nashville studio and recorded an entire original album of “brown grass” country music as a gift to his classmates called Down From Montana. What started as a reunion party favor ended up bringing him some stellar reviews (Country Stars Online) and a very loyal following of country music fans on Montana radio. Who knew? I didn’t.


In fact, I had no idea Pete had the heart of an artist. He was a highly respected attorney (Pete Wilke, Attorney for Independent Filmmakers), a former political activist, a tribal lawyer, and a beloved friend to many. But an artist? That I didn’t know. I also didn’t know he was funny. In fact, when a friend who’d heard I was getting married so soon after meeting Pete expressed concerns about my hasty decision by asking, “But does he make you laugh?,” I remembered seriously mulling the question—after all, that had been a standard prerequisite for most of my life. “No,” I answered honestly, “I can’t say he’s particularly funny.”  But, I made very clear, he was KIND. And given my life history, kindness had surpassed humor as an essential mate trait somewhere around my mid-30’s. Deep, authentic, uncompromising kindness. Gold. And Pete had kindness down.

And as a delightful bonus discovered not long into the relationship, it turns out he actually was funny. An alter-ego named “Stevie” whose take on life was simple and inanely satirical provided mirth during long car trips and late night conversations. Somewhere between music and mirth, I was discovering a whole new man behind the husband I was to marry.

On October 1, 1990, shortly after Pete got his grandfather to and from the clinic for his annual flu shot and before my three-day migraine kicked in, we drove to the courthouse in Mount Vernon, Washington, where Judge Gerald Mullen postponed his lunch to solemnly don a long black robe and, in the company of our two witnesses, court secretary Pam Green, and jovial bailiff, Harold Johnson, we took our vows. I remembered wondering ahead of time if the whole court-house/elopement scenario would feel generic and unemotional, but when Judge Mullen said the line, “The union into which you two are now about to enter is the closest and tenderest into which human being can come,” I was a goner. Something about that word “tenderest,” about the respect with which the judge was conducting this ceremony, just got me. I grabbed the back loop of Pete’s dress pants and held on for dear life, overcome by the gravity of what we were doing, suffused with the sense that something sacred had just happened, bad lighting be damned. Bailiff Johnson took our only wedding photos with my crappy 35 mm camera…most were out of focus and none were truly worthy of the moment, but the wonder of Photoshop in later years allowed me to bring them to at least some measure their inescapable value as the only photographic evidence of our momentous day. Here are three of my favorites:

Wedding triptych

And life went on. We moved from Seattle into my LA apartment. I got pregnant. We moved into a bigger house. He passed the California Bar. We had our son. We shared time with his daughter. We struggled with our careers, wrestled with money, had good times and bad. Life. Marriage. Parenthood. It was at some point in here I became more clearly aware of his musical talent. He had written me a song when we first got together called, “I’ve Just Got To Take This Chance With You,” and I remembered being surprised at how warm his voice was and the passion he put into his poetic writing. But it was over time that I was introduced to his rather deep repertoire of heartfelt country/rock songs written over the years, songs he’d sing as he sat in the living room banging on his battered left-handed guitar with our son, Dillon, looking on in awe. Pete might not have known what chords he was playing but he sure made it sound good! I was a fan, encouraged him to explore it further, and before long he found himself concocting a country musical built around his best songs: Country Rules (originally called Country! The Musical). It was a fantastic concept and we literally leaped into it with a “my Dad has a barn, I’ve got some curtains” kind of production frenzy.

This was an amazing period of creative collaboration for us and he was a killer producer. With no background, no real experience in the realm of musical theater production, this guy put together a show with some of the most talented people in Los Angeles (Kay Cole directing; Lauri Johnson, Gary Clark, Rod Weber; Ronna Jones, to name a few) and was invited to put it up at what was then the premiere country music venue in Orange County, The Crazy Horse Saloon. Through sheer determination and indefatigable effort, Pete made it happen like no one I’d ever seen and it was spectacular. The style was “environmental theater,” which meant we—the actors and singers—”worked” or played customers with the actual club as our set, singing, dancing, and emoting our way around the real customers and bona fide waitresses, with a very hot live band led by the exuberant Jeff Brown up on stage accompanying us. People were delighted and good reviews followed, most notably one that appeared on the front page of The LA Times Calendar section: (LA Times/John Roos: “Barbecue Theater”). It was sheer triumph for Pete.

A few years later we attempted to get the show on film, shooting an expanded, opened-up version at Buck Owen’s Crystal Palace in Bakersfield. But while the cast was again stellar (Dean Fortunato and Jennie Wilke Willens joining the group), the additional songs great, and all intentions good, the lack of budget and creative differences within the production team led to a disappointing result and the film was never completed.  But Pete’s music transcended even that, and when his Down from Montana CD came out years later, there were many who also requested the show’s soundtrack, which he hadn’t yet put into the marketplace. He was working on getting that done, with plans to also get back into the studio with his Nashville team to do another record…

Five years ago Pete was crossing a street in El Segundo, CA, and a young man on a cellphone, looking the opposite direction as he pulled into traffic, hit him. There were broken bones, torn shoulders, damaged vertebrae, excruciating pain. There was surgery and physical therapy and so much fear and frustration at the impact on his life, but he worked hard to heal and two-and-a-half-years later he was almost at a clean bill of health. Then, in an inexplicable twist of repeated fate, there was another accident. Pete was in his car, stopped at a crosswalk waiting for a couple of pedestrians to make their way across Highland Avenue in Manhattan Beach, when a car being driven by a distracted driver smashed into him from behind at about 25 to 30 miles an hour with no attempt to brake. Pete’s head was turned slightly to the right, the impact was stunning, and amongst other injuries, his right frontal lobe sustained damage. MTBI they call it…mild traumatic brain injury. Mild because he can still walk and talk. The impact on his life, however, was anything but mild. In fact, nothing has been the same since.

Pete on a hill

This is a man who rarely took an aspirin, whose life was filled with athletics and running, one team sport or another. A man who hiked down and up the Grand Canyon almost every year and trekked through the Montana wilderness pheasant hunting every fall. A man for whom music and theater and singing and the whole gamut of sensual, creative, and aural pleasures was deeply appreciated. A man who longboarded down the Strand with his teenage son. That kind of man. But in the two-and-a-half-years since that inattentive driver looked away for too long and changed life as we knew it, Pete’s world has been about hospital visits, neurology treatments, pain management intervention, ear/hearing care, and pharmaceutical assistance for a myriad of injuries and symptoms including painful ear nerve damage, hearing loss, 24/7 tinnitus, excruciating and persistent head pain, cognitive challenges, persistent startle reflex, loss of certain elements of his emotional palette, etc.

Though the cognitive struggles have improved significantly, allowing him to continue and rebuild his law practice (which suffered in the first year after the injury), and the extreme nature of the head pain has subsided enough on a day-to-day basis to allow him to again enjoy many aspects of his life, the landscape of his existence—and ours as a couple, a family—has changed significantly. He has to wear hearing aids now and cannot hear well enough inside his head to sing or play guitar, yet he can no longer go to clubs to listen to music because the volume is intolerable; the same with movies. The Grand Canyon is out, hunting is a thing of the past, and he had to quit his softball team not only because the potential of further impact to his head would be devastating, but also because running and vigorous exercise ratchets up the tinnitus and head pain to excruciating levels. A planned hiking trip to the Bob Marshall Wilderness in Montana was canceled because altitude does the same, a trip to Europe with all its planes, boats and automobiles became too taxing; a rafting trip with our son proved over-ambitious, and even the volume at a small dinner party can push him to a tipping point that sends him home. Sometimes he can barely tolerate talking and silence has become a big part of our lives now. Anyone who knows me knows how hard that is!

quoteThe pain level got so extreme earlier this year that he hit a full-blown crisis that resulted in him leaving home to live by himself for a couple of months in an attempt to quell the pain and noise inside his head and heart. It was a brutal experience for him, for me, for our family; one that has shaken us all to the core. In his absence I not only had to deal with my grief and the potential loss of the marriage and husband I’d known, but to confront my fears and inadequacies as “the wife of a brain damaged man.”

One thing that is very much missing from the treatment protocol of brain injury—traumatic or mild—is guidance and assistance not only to the injured party, but to their families as well. It is virtually impossible, as a neophyte to the injury and its many enigmatic results, to have any notion of what you’re getting into, to understand the full spectrum of imminent impact on the family system, the marriage, the personality of the injured; to know the best treatments, the most advantageous way to handle stress, the sense of isolation, etc. Whatever you think you know about it, you don’t know squat.

And yet there is no social worker to take your family’s hands after a diagnosis, no instructional program to attend, no support whatsoever for how to deal with this monolithic event. I was given no advice or information that would have alerted me to many of the unexpected ramifications of not only how a brain injured person might act, but how best to respond, how best to be a partner, a family member, a caretaker to that brain injured person. I discovered that in the entire city of Los Angeles there is not one support group specifically for families of the brain injured or the brain injured himself. This is a shocking deficit, particularly in this era of so many brain-injured athletes and returning vets dealing with the short- and long-term consequences of this most confounding injury. Luckily I was referred by Pete’s neurologist to a brain injury survivor who’d previously been in a support group at Cedars Sinai that was no longer in existence. She proved to be a desperately needed and deeply appreciated source of insight and perspective that only a person who’d gone through the injury could have offered. In a way, she saved us from total familial implosion.

After talking to her, it was abundantly clear that I needed to better educate myself on the injury, to learn what Pete actually needed from me versus what I thought I should be giving him. They call it the “invisible injury” for good reason: unlike with TBI (traumatic brain injury), where the injury and resultant symptoms are so obvious, MTBI patients can seem normal. They walk and talk and do many of the same things they used to. What is not readily understood is the “brain storm” (as one writer put it) that is going on inside their head. And the cause doesn’t have to be severe; my support group mentor was ten years into her recovery and her brain damage had been caused by standing up too quickly under a cabinet and smashing the back of her head against the bottom edge. It’s not hard to imagine how a stationary brain at a dead stop would react to being hit by a car moving 25 mph!

My re-education was all encompassing. I ordered books and read everything I could find online. I talked to doctors and therapists and alternative med practitioners. I sought the comfort and counsel of friends and family members. I gathered around me people I trusted—my brother, sisters, my dearest friends, my son and stepdaughter, all of whom were profoundly supportive throughout—and got through the days. I made adjustments in my thinking, my reactions, my expectations. I dealt with the fear that neither my husband, nor my life, would ever be the same. It was gut-wrenching and terrifying, but mostly my heart ached for the anguish Pete was experiencing and….I missed my sweet, good man.

Pete & kids

As difficult as it was, the time away proved restorative for Pete, and ultimately he came home. It was sometimes a confusing and often very challenging transition, but little by little life got back to some kind of normal. He reconnected with his kids, he was able to effectively move his practice forward, particularly as his client base once again resurged; the tinnitus, head and ear pain were still ever-present but definitely more manageable, and the rage and confusion he’d felt about this confounding injury evolved to a more tolerable level of acceptance. In fact, he’s so stoic about it that sometimes I forget he’s got buzzing and whirring going on in his ears every minute of every day, or that so many of the things he loved most in life—music, sports, activity—can no longer be experienced. His identity as a person, a man, a husband and father, has been compromised by this injury and that’s got to just get to him. I know when I really think about it all I just want to cry.

But he doesn’t cry; he just gets on with his life. He needs to rest more often during the day, take breaks from activities when the pain in his head gets too intense, and often by Friday night a long conversation with his wife is not doable. He doesn’t laugh as often, “Stevie” rarely makes an appearance these days (when he does it’s precious), but he’s doing the best he can. He’s taking care of his family, his work, the legal actions related to the accident. He’ll drive out to Norco to bring candy to an 80-year-old friend, he’ll stay in weekly touch with his godson, he’ll check in with his extended family, and bring me Pinkberry when I’m not expecting it. He’s living his life. He even picked up his guitar the other day and tried. It didn’t sound good to him, it didn’t feel good, but he tried. I hope he’ll try again.

As for us… we’re a “work in progress,” as he says. He still struggles with accessing his higher band emotions (empathy, compassion, love), a common result of frontal lobe damage and a particular consequence I struggle with. Some days are better than others. Sometimes I do a commendable job of dealing with it, others I’m a mess. Sometimes he seems fully engaged, other times he’s as cold and distant as a stranger. It’s hard for us both to realize that someone who loved and felt with such depth and intensity cannot fully get to those feelings at will… his neurologist says they’re there, somewhere in there, he just isn’t able to get to them… yet. There’s hope. But brain injury is a complex and really mystifying event, this I’ve learned, so I can’t help but wonder how long it will take for him to once again look at me with the full range of his feelings. I’ve learned from experience, and I’ve been ably taught by my support group mentor, that time is not to be predicted, watched, gauged. It’s the worn but wise cliche of “one day at a time.” And it takes time… lots of time… to heal a brain.

But he’s here. He may be different in some ways from the man he was, but the man who is here, who is smiling at me from across the room, who loves me however he can love me and works so hard to find solutions and compensations for where he’s lacking, is still the man I love. The concept of “for better or worse” was never so poignantly felt as it has been for both of us this year, and this is when you realize what stuff your marriage is made of. Not whether he makes you laugh or has a big enough career or can still write you musical poetry. None of that ultimately matters. What matters is resilience, loyalty, commitment, empathy, compassion. What matters is remembering and re-educating. Holding on and letting go as needed.  Understanding that this “tenderest union” is tough as well. Tough enough to endure and remain grounded even in the worst of situations.

And so we celebrate our twenty years. Older, less dreamy-eyed, battered and sometimes weary of it all, but oh so certain of who we are and who we are to each other. After twenty years it’s sometimes hard to think of new and inspiring things to write in an anniversary card, but I saw this quote and it touched me. As sappy as it may seem, it’s what I want to put inside my anniversary card because it so resonates with my thoughts about marriage at this juncture:  “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying, ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness’.”


I will be your witness, Pete. I might not do it perfectly, I might not always get it right, but I will be your witness, if you’ll let me, for another twenty years. And maybe another twenty after that. We’ll see how it goes… we know how tricky time and life can be but I’m holding a good thought. Thank you for your never-ending effort to get better, to survive this. It does mean everything.  Happy Anniversary…My Good Good Man

Down From Montana CD cover by Dillon Wilke

All other photographs courtesy of Lorraine Devon Wilke

LDW w glasses

Visit for details and links to LDW’s books, music, photography, and articles.

99 thoughts on “Cowboy Strong and Poetry Sweet…Love In the Age of MTBI

  1. Cris

    Of course you know the sappy quote is deeply meaningful to me as well. The brain is indeed mysterious and complex and the wiring is easily strained whether through trauma or living with trauma.

    But what impresses me as much more complex and mysterious is our ability to love. How many infinite combinations or gestures manifest a feeling or thought about another person. How love sometimes blurs the physical line so we think of ‘us’ rather than ‘me’ as the abode.

    This is a beautiful tribute to Pete, to you in all your human glory and grief and to hope which buoys us when patience seems to run out.

    I can only believe that in witnessing you will continue to see more clearly with newer eyes, feel more deeply from the depths of resources you might not have known you had, enjoy more fully each precious minute of life. In doing so, you change your world as your love changes you.

    Having said all that, which I truly believe, I do know that inside your brain there is also tumult when living with a changed reality that requires redefinition, evolution and evaluations on an almost daily basis. There will be despair and impatience and a sense of loss. As you indicate, addressing those moments is your adjustment, your task, your exploration of humanity on a micro scale.

    I’d bet you are on the cusp of great learning (beyond the medical knowledge gained)about mystery. It also sounds like a story worth seeing on the screen…

    You’ve told your story – send new mailing address and I’ll share mine. Don’t know if it will help, but it’s what I can offer from afar.

    Meanwhile, thinking of you both as you enter this next phase of the mystery. Love – is it all we need or is it all we have?


    1. LDW

      Cris – you always amaze me with the depth of your thoughtful and meaningful responses. I appreciate the time you take, the thought you put into it, and the real value of what you have to say. You are a good person, a good friend, and I will very much like to hear your story. Address to come. love, L.


  2. Barbara

    Lorraine and Pete – Happy Anniversary. When I got this in my email I just had to read it early this AM. As a friend who has been a part of your lives, although at a distance, I am in awe and moved by your commitment to each other and truly living your lives and marriage on life’s terms. Thank you for sharing with me the true demonstration of love. This blog just crushed me… for it’s honesty, truth and grace. Much love to you both and hope to see you soon. xoxo babs


    1. LDW

      Babs – thank you for your beautiful comment. You are a part of our lives and our conversation earlier this year was truly inspirational to me. Thank you, my friend. xxoo L.


  3. Ally

    First things first, Happy Anniversary to you both! Reading this completely brought me to tears. I know how all of this makes you feel and I admire you for being able to pull through it. The quote was beautiful, you truly do love that man of yours. I miss you both and can’t wait to see you! And Bowie as well of course!
    Much love,
    Ally W.


    1. LDW

      Thank you, sweet Ally. We miss you too and will look forward to seeing you next month. Thank you for your kind words; you were there during much of the difficult parts so I know you understand the ups and downs of this story. I guess in the end it all came down to love and resilience. Pete is an amazing man and from where I sit, he’s worth it! 🙂 Really appreciate your support. Hope all is going well with you and school and we’ll look forward to seeing you soon. Love, L.


  4. Thank you for writing so eloquently about this. Now that I’ve finally gotten around to reading it I have more of a clue what’s been going on. At first I was thinking oh, it’s like a part of Pete died, but now I think it’s more like MIA. No one’s sure where the parts are or if and when they might return. So how do you make plans? A different way of living. What an education you’re both getting. I honor you.


    1. LDW

      Heather – thank you for your kind words. It’s been a journey, that’s for sure! At first it was like a part of Pete had died but as time goes on, I see more and more of him coming out again and every time I do, it’s a triumph. As for how we make plans: we make plans carefully; lots of consideration about logistics, sound, activity demand, etc. In the beginning, before I completely understood the all-encompassing aspect of this injury, I found myself impatient or frustrated by the unexpected exits from restaurants or parties, the lack of focus and concentration in the middle of conversations, the limitations on what we could or could not do as a couple or family; but now – post The Re-education of Lorraine – I am just so grateful that he’s back and here and commited to our lives and getting better every day…it’s easy to be compassionate and understanding when you’ve had the chance to consider life without that person. Not so happy, that life. So just as you and Troy have to factor in walkers and bum knees, we factor Pete’s “handicaps.” It becomes a part of life. And, frankly, whether it’s an injury or just the process of aging, some measure of this journey is inevitable as we grow older together. At the moment, both you and I are getting a crash course! love to you and Troy. Lorraine


  5. Your site is very informative and helpful. This should be bookmarked by anyone who is looking for such info. Your site has been mentioned in one of the forums to visit and check out.


  6. Ronna JOnes

    Dear Lorraine~
    It’s strange how I even came across your post… doing the silliest thing… googling myself… looking for something else and I came across your site. I don’t know what to say except I believe we could all learn from what you have shared with us here… life is precious and it is far too easy to take the simple beautiful things for granted… you are an extraordinary woman with the heart of an angel and a lion.

    I was so grateful to be a part of “Country!” and to meet / work with you and Pete. During those early rehearsals at your home and each lovely performance we got to do… I appreciated Pete’s gentle strength, kindness and encouragement , and most of all I enjoyed watching his eyes sparkle every time you sang. It was clear to me that this project was not only a wonderful creative endeavor but also an act of love.

    Life most assuredly throws us curves, and how we choose to handle them is truly an act of character and learning to dig deep… but I don’t need to tell you that… “let love be your guide” is a voice I hear within your words. Thank you for sharing out loud with the rest of us what it means to love beyond bounds… and for giving us a deeper understanding of your beautiful Cowboy Pete.

    may the powers of light bring relief, hope , strength, love, joy and guidance to you both always~


    My love to you, Pete and the family~ Ronna


    1. LDW

      Ronna! How amazing and lovely to hear from you! It’s so unbelievable how the internet connects us…I mention your name and here you are, after all these years.

      You are truly one of the people Pete and I remember and hold dear from that crazy, creative and really fun chapter of all our lives. That really was a very special time and event and so many of the people involved made such an impression. I think Pete has always had a special place in his heart for you and of course I think you’re one of the most talented women I know! Not only in Country, but I remember your gorgeous version of Joni Mitchell’s “River” at the Alex Theater Christmas show. Gave us all goosebumps!

      Thank you for your sweet and profound comments about the post…life has sometimes been a bizarre journey, with all the twists and turns it’s taken, but you’re right about love being the guiding force around the bumps. There is no other way to put it. Ambition, dreams, accomplishment; none of them hold a candle to love. So thank you for underscoring that in your comment.

      I would love to hear from you privately to get caught up with what’s been going on in your life…it’s been much too long. Let’s see if we can even find a way to get together – you, me and Pete – and share a drink and a good conversation!

      Hope this finds you well, Ronna, and doing the things you love most in life. And now I’m going to go Google you too and find out where you’ve been and what pretty music you’ve been making somewhere….! 🙂 love Lorraine


  7. I dont know what to say. This web site is amazing. You know a great deal about this theme. So much so that you inspired me need to try to understand more about this. Your web site is my stepping stone, my friend. Many thanks for the heads up on this subject matter.


  8. I have been surfing online more than three hours today, yet I never found any interesting article like yours. It’s pretty worth enough for me. In my opinion, if all webmasters and bloggers made good content as you did, the internet will be much more useful than ever before.


  9. Thanks for taking the time to discuss this, I feel strongly about it and love learning more on this topic. If possible, as you gain expertise, would you mind updating your blog with more information? It is extremely helpful for me, dealing also with someone with brain injury.


  10. Me and my husband thoroughly enjoyed this article, we are sitting down right now to a cup of tea and talking with the laptop beside us. Just some questions: When did you get into blogging? How much is hosting per month? How much are you making per month? How many visitors do you usually get? Have you heard any big success stories with people blogging? Appreciated, please respond.


    1. LDW

      Shanna, thanks for the comments. As for your questions: no money is currently being made with the blog, hosting at is cheap, about $80 a year; visitors, I don’t know actually (I should, shouldn’t I?) and I got into it because I love writing and wanted a forum in which to share my thoughts. The blog platform is sorta perfect for me…no one has to pay to read it, it’s there, enjoy it as you will. And hopefully people are enjoying it. I wasn’t looking at it as a money-making venture (though I’m always open to good ideas!:) but I know a lot of people who have had success at that. If that’s your goal, I’m sure you can research and find people who could better answer that question. But keep reading and enjoying the work. That’s really what it’s all about from my way of thinking… LDW


  11. I am extremely impressed with your writing skills and also with the layout on your blog. Is this a paid theme or did you customize it yourself? Either way keep up the nice quality writing, it’s rare to see a nice blog like this one these days..


  12. LDW

    I got a lot of meaningful feedback on this post, some from people I don’t know, so I wanted to leave a general comment saying how much I appreciate the readership and the enthusiasm for getting in touch. Means a lot, particularly with this specific story which means a lot to me.

    Keep reading, keep commenting and thank you all again! LDW


  13. Spencer

    You had some nice points here. I done a research on the topic of head injury and think most peoples will agree with your blog.


  14. I loved what you have carried out right here. The style is classy, your written subject material elegant. Nevertheless, you have got an edginess to what you are presenting. Excellent!


  15. This is my first time i visit here. I found so much interesting stuff in your blog, especially its discussion. From the tons of comments on your articles, I guess I am not the only one having all the enjoyment here!


  16. I’m not going to lie, this is certainly one of the very few blogs I truly enjoy reading through and it’s because of top quality content like this. Keep up the great work, these are very helpful posts.


  17. Thank you for the sensible critique. Me and my neighbor were just preparing to do some research about this. We got a grab a book from our local library but I think I learned more from this post. I am very glad to see such great information being shared freely out there.


  18. This is a good weblog. I really like it. You’ve got a great sense of things and so much interest. you have got a layout that is not too flashy, but sents a statement as tasteful as what youre expressing. Best job!.


Comments are closed.