Jun. 29--PANAMA CITY -- -- Cathy Fry shifted nervously in her seat. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Cathy?" a reporter asked. She smiled, shifted her weight again, and looked over at Brittany Dorko, social worker at Second Chance of Northwest Florida, which serves adults with brain injuries. "Gosh, I don't know, 62, 63?" Fry guessed. "I was born in 1949. How old does that make me?" She was told she was 60. "Oh gosh. That sounds old," Fry said, then laughed. She has short, gray hair, and friendly eyes.

A stroke last March robbed Fry of much of her short-term memory. She spends every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at Second Chance's bayfront office on Beach Drive in Panama City as part of its day program.

Fry's ailments have no visible signs. It doesn't become clear she has suffered a brain injury until you talk to her for a bit, and only if you ask her certain questions.

"That's why it's called a silent epidemic," said Second Chance Executive Director Sherl Morden. "You might meet a person and not know, until you put them in a situation where they have to think for themselves."

Fry has suffered an acquired brain injury, but several of her peers at Second Chance are dealing with traumatic brain injuries (TBI), caused by severe blows to the head. Both injuries can affect a person's memory, concentration, coordination and emotions.

"It is a needed service that people with brain injuries and their families have asked for for years," Valerie Breen, executive director of the Brain Injury Association of Florida, said of Second Chance's day program. It is one of two in the state, and the only one that is community-funded, she said.

"The problem has always been being able to sustain these clubhouse-style treatment models for people with brain injuries ... because they're invaluable to survivors of brain injuries and their families," Breen said.

There are 3,237 reported cases of people living with TBI in the six counties Second Chance serves. That does not count people, such as Fry, with acquired brain injuries. The nonprofit, with revenue of about $61,000 in 2008, can offer positions in its day program to 15 people.

'The Elephant'

Dr. Clell Warriner started Second Chance as a support group in 1991, and the day program followed in 1998.

Nine of the members gathered around a table in the classroom on Wednesday morning. Dorko, a May graduate of Florida State-Panama City, stood up front with a book, Brain Gym, full of exercises designed to stimulate neurons.

The first, called "The Elephant," asked members to stand and trace figure eights in the air with their left hands. Another, intended to link both sides of the brain, involved drawing the same shape simultaneously with both hands.

Members arrive between 8 and 9 a.m. and usually are gone by 2 p.m. They follow a routine: class in the morning, lunch and then computer lab and chores in the afternoon. They usually hit the road for lunch Fridays. Last week they went to Cassandra's Place on Harrison Ave.

Dorko said the routine is important, as is the camaraderie.

"At home, their families are buzzing around, driving cars, doing things we take for granted. Here they're around friends. While society may look at them as different, here everybody's the same," Dorko said.

Memory gone

The day after Cathy Fry's interview, her husband was asked to give an example of Cathy's memory problems.

"Well, she doesn't remember talking to you," Tom Fry told the reporter.

The Frys moved to Bay Point to retire. They live there with Jaime, their blind 32-year-old daughter who has cerebral palsy. Cathy was giving Jaime a shower on March 30, 2008, the Fry's 35th wedding anniversary, when her head began to hurt. She doesn't remember anything after that.

"She asked me to call 911," Tom Fry recalled. "When I went in to check on her, she had passed out."

Cathy Fry was flown by helicopter to a Gainesville hospital, where she underwent surgery, and spent the next month in intensive care. She had suffered a sub-arachnoid hemorrhage, a burst blood vessel in her head that could have killed her.

"Fifty-five to 60 percent never make it to the hospital, so she was fortunate," Tom Fry said. "And only 25 percent of the ones who survive come back 100 percent."

After a four-month waiting period, Cathy Fry earned a spot at Second Chance early this year. At first she was nervous, and would go only if accompanied by her 84-year-old mother.

"It was a really hard time at first," recalled Morden. "She didn't know us. She wouldn't even go to the restroom without her mother standing in front of the door."

But after a few weeks, she became more comfortable.

"She looks forward to it. It gives her purpose," Tom Fry said. "And we're really happy when she remembers she has homework."

Not alone

Morden was involved with Second Chance before she was personally affected by TBI. Her son, James, then 40, was working at a water treatment facility in Egypt when he was in a near-fatal car accident.

"When he came back, he couldn't function at work like he used to. He would forget the formulas," Morden said.

He started having seizures. His wife died in 2006, and James killed himself in 2007.

"I see, more than ever, the need for people to not be alone," Morden said. "If they can't do one thing, it doesn't mean they can't do anything."

Morden admits funding is a challenge. The nonprofit has only one paid employee, Dorko. Second Chance relies on donations and fundraisers, such as yard sales, fish fries and a chili-gumbo cookout, to make ends meet. Members are charged $50 per month, but few can afford it, and Second Chance foots the bill.

Back in Second Chance's recreation room, Cathy Fry continued to shift back and forth in her chair during the interview. She's unsure of her answers, constantly asking Dorko, "Is that right?"

She was not sure what year she had her stroke, and had to think about the ages of her two children. She quickly recited Tom Fry's cell number when asked, though.

"I'm 60, so going back to school was hard," said Cathy Fry, now sure of her age.

"When I had my stroke, it felt like everything left me, and now it's starting to ..." Fry trailed off.

She apparently lost her thought. But the message came through.

<< -- 06/30/2009>>

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