The Founder's Story

My name is David Krempels, and I am the founder of The Krempels Brain Injury Foundation. Like many of you, I survived a severe traumatic brain injury. Mine was from an auto accident in 1992. I had a very rough time after the accident, but my life is good now. I started this organization to help others living with brain injury. I speak for everyone at the Foundation when I say we care about you and would like to offer friendship and a helping hand as you rebuild your life.

David Krempels

We are creating an amazing community in person and online. Our circle of support is powerful and beautiful. I’ve talked with some of you, or read your stories or poems. Your experiences confirm what I deeply believe: If you haven’t been there, you don’t know the particular heartbreak that comes with traumatic brain injury. I have been there, and I know I could not have survived alone. I want to tell you my story as a way of offering hope and support to this community.

I was a late bloomer, well into my 30s before I started to be comfortable with who I was: a college-educated carpenter/building contractor; healthy, active in sports, church, and the community. Slightly quirky, reasonably successful, starting to be happy. At 42, I was finally able to let myself fall in love and get married. That now seems like a long time ago.

David and Ettamae, 1992

Everything changed on a sunny afternoon in 1992. I was traveling with my wife, Ettamae, on the Maine Turnpike near Portland. It was the second day of our honeymoon. Traffic stopped for construction. A tractor trailer right behind us didn’t stop – didn’t touch his brakes until he hit us. Ettamae was killed.

I was taken to Maine Medical Center ICU, barely hanging on. After six weeks, I was transferred to Dover Rehab, where I learned to walk, eat, and care for myself. After two months there (which seemed like ten years) I went home to live by myself. I felt totally disconnected from the world around me – sort of like I was watching a movie of myself. Everything was hazy except a constant, acute awareness of the loss of my wife and the life I had known.

It was a long, difficult recovery. I was always on the edge of emotional and financial survival. At first, I was totally dependent on food stamps, public assistance, and the kindness of friends to keep food in my cupboard. I was turned down for Social Security disability benefits, but told I could appeal. I did, and was denied again. I was told I could request a hearing in front of a judge. I was exhausted, discouraged, defeated. But my lawyer was a fighter. He pushed for a hearing and got one.

The judge heard my case and said, “You’ve been through a lot. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be getting this.” But after he said yes, things got worse. By qualifying for SSD and I became ineligible for other public assistance. Meanwhile it took nine months for my Social Security check to come in the mail; they had one digit wrong in my Social Security number.

On my most desperate weekend I kept opening the cupboard where I kept the staples of my diet – bread, cereal, crackers. Empty. No food, no money. No idea what to do. It was the only time in my life I have known the terror of hunger.

After over two years of hell, my civil suit came to trial in Federal District Court in Maine. A jury awarded me a lot of money and a chance to reclaim my life.

That’s how the Foundation began. I wanted to share some of my good fortune with others who had known only the pain of similar tragedy. Four close friends who had held me through my darkest nights helped me establish this organization.

Four friends helped establish the organization in 1995 (l-r): Lisa Hanson, now director of Family Support; Jim Fisher, a foundation board member; Effie Malley; and John Ahlgren.

For several years after my accident, I was pretty messed up. Just getting through my days was a full-time job. My memory was terrible. I lost interest in any activity quickly and was easily exhausted. My emotions were all over the place. You could not have persuaded me that I would ever be happy again.

David and Mary, 2004 Enlarge

Now, more than 10 years later, I still can’t believe it happened. I am especially amazed that I’ve recovered as well as I have. Some of my friends with injuries similar to mine have difficulty talking, and probably will never walk or drive a car again. I do these things routinely. I’m a little clumsy, my balance and coordination are poor, and I have a slight limp. My speech is deliberate, a little slurred; I sometimes sound drunk (even when I’m not). But I get around fine. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know. Best of all, I got a second chance at love. In 2001 Mary Roddy Coulson became my wife. I am a very lucky guy.

When I was in rehab, starting to understand the horror of my situation, part of me wanted to curl up and die. My family and friends helped me decide to do the best I could with what I had left. They encouraged me to take the next step – whatever that was and wherever it might take me. They truly saved my life.

I speak for everyone at the Krempels Brain Injury Foundation when I say: we're sorry you have to go through this. We're on your side. Please don't give up.

We care and want to help. You're not who you were. Be who you are.
Best wishes and take good care,

David Krempels