Some years ago I was involved in a car accident on the way to work. I smacked my head hard on the roof of my vehicle and received whiplash injuries. I sustained soft tissue trauma, brain swelling and damage to my right temporal lobe. I became physically incapacitated, and experienced a lot of emotional and physical pain.

Because my injuries happened on the way to work, I put in a workers’ compensation claim.

The damage to the right temporal lobe of my brain left my short-term memory like a sieve. I felt exhausted and emotionally unstable, on top of feeling vulnerable because of my physical injuries. To make things even more difficult, my injuries were invisible. This had an impact on my personal life, my working life, and my experiences in the workers’ compensation system.

The personal toll of invisible injuries

Prior to my accident I was physically fit, resilient, independent and intelligent. However, in the early days of my recovery I was a pathetic sight; chronically tired, forgetful and teary. I had nerve pain in my legs to the point where some days I couldn’t walk. I also experienced a distressing level of emotional instability, caused by brain-damage and swelling.

It was very embarrassing for me to admit to people in my life that I couldn’t function properly or think clearly. I had previously prided myself on the attributes that I now appeared to have lost.

Whenever I spoke about my symptoms I felt like a failure. I would bump into acquaintances and see friends, and despite still looking like myself, they would quickly notice something was amiss in the way I talked. Then I would have to explain what had happened.

Often, people didn’t know how to react to my story. I wished I had stitches on my face, or a broken arm or leg rather than internal injuries, because then people would be more sympathetic. The physical cues would help them understand the connection between injury and trauma.

Invisible injury at work

Picture framing is a very physical occupation with lots of lifting, standing and manual labour. Prior to my accident I had been physically fit and performed my work duties with ease. Now, as a result of the accident I was in pain and unable to perform a lot of manual handling.

Although they were initially supportive, I felt that my colleagues quickly became impatient with me. I looked normal but I was unable to perform normal duties—and this meant more work for them. Over time they began to resent me more and more, to the point where they started bullying me.

And it wasn’t just my colleagues who thought I was slacking off.

Customers would ask for help carrying frames to their car and I always had to decline, which they misread as me being unhelpful. Again, without seeing stitches or a broken-arm cast, they had no concept of the kind of trauma I was recovering from.

The system couldn’t see my invisible injuries either

Rather than being nurtured by a supportive workers’ compensation system, I felt like I was on trial. From the case manager to my co-workers, my word was never good enough. There always had to be proof.

I felt really paranoid that people thought I was faking my injuries. I felt pressured to prove that my symptoms were as bad as I said they were. This pressure to prove my symptoms became heightened in contact sessions with my GP and case manager.

It was extremely difficult for me to accurately share with my GP and case manager just how much pain I was in, and how hard it was to perform basic tasks.

In terms of my workers’ compensation claim, I was in a precarious position. If I didn’t disclose all the details of my pain I was in, my GP and case manager might assume I was better and want to close the case. But when I talked about my pain or poor memory I felt like I was complaining, over-exaggerating, or over-identifying with my injuries.

When I was alone I found it hard to walk, so I would walk slowly, but when I was around my case manager I would inadvertently limp and move even slower because I felt pressured to show her how much pain I was in.

Having to continually prove myself led me to over-identify with my symptoms and sometimes it was hard to tell how bad I was really feeling. I knew I had to make a good case in order continue to receive workers’ compensation payments and support, because my word alone was not good enough.

I always had the feeling that as soon as I showed signs of getting better, they would assume I was completely better, and not take into account that some days are good, some are bad.

I realise that insurance companies only want to financially support claims when absolutely necessary, and that they don’t want cases to drag on. But the manner in which my personal injury plan was implemented, and the attitude my case manager had towards the end of my case was unbelievably stressful for me and certainly hindered my recovery.

Getting out

I ended up closing my compensation case voluntarily, because the expectation to prove my symptoms was hindering my recovery. Instead I took matters into my own hands and paid out of my own pocket to continue my rehabilitation on my own terms.

Three years on I am pretty much back to my pre-accident condition—but I’m not sure that would be the case if I hadn’t taken the decision to take myself out of the system and look after myself. My injuries were invisible but they were real. The system just couldn’t see that.