TAKING ON LIFE WITH INVISIBLE INJURIES

Like a lot of people, Jeff Harms likes to read the newspaper first thing in the morning. Unlike a lot of people, his first objective is to look at the date -- "to associate myself."

Then he reads the rest. "I'm a newsaholic," he says. "One of my favorite pastimes is to sit and read the newspaper.

But after reading the newspaper, Jeff wouldn't be able to tell you what was on page one.

For Jeff and his wife Kim Harms, living with traumatic brain injuries means every day is a struggle to remember.

Jeff is a volunteer for the Missouri Heads Up program, speaking to schools and civic groups about the importance of wearing seat belts and driving sober. Kim is employed in the Health Information Management department at St. Francis Medical Center.

More than 10 years after they sustained their injuries in separate traffic accidents, Jeff and Kim still fight a frustrating battle with the sudden loss of their memories.

They met at the Rusk Brain Injury Rehabilitation Program at the University of Missouri, where they received cognitive training that has helped. Their physical injuries have healed completely, but trauma sustained by the brain does not mend as quickly. For some, it doesn't mend at all.

In 1986, Kim was a Southeast Missouri-born-and-raised marketing student with big ambitions and a dream of learning Spanish so she could take a job in Honduras. A year after the accident, which put her in a coma for days, she tried to go back to school but couldn't retain the information.

She re-enrolled a second time, this time taking English courses. "It was a lot of reading. It was still too much," she says.

In 1986, Jeff was a good-timing ex-military man with a Zig-Zag man tattoo, a red Corvette and the ability to fly the Army's fastest helicopters. He fractured his neck in five places and was comatose for 19 days after being ejected through the T-top of his car.

He had been drinking and wasn't wearing a seat belt, which makes for a sterling speaker on behalf of safe driving. These days, he drives everywhere with his headlights on.

Jeff regained his long-term memory with the help of his parents, who filled in all the blanks. And there were many. When Jeff awoke from the coma, he didn't know his mother's name.

Now, Jeff and Kim get along without their formerly astute memories by writing themselves notes, reminders. They also pay close attention when they park the car at the mall because they've had the experience of not being able to find it.

Sometimes, it's almost funny to them. Jeff has been known to take Kim aside in the middle of a work day to ask the name of the movie they just saw.

One common reaction people have is to reassure them that such memory lapses happen to almost everybody. But to Jeff and Kim, "memory strategies" are survival skills.

Jeff is writing a book about their experiences, hoping it will help people who sustain a brain injury. Called "Harm's Way," the book details the confusion he felt after waking up from a 19-day coma with no memories.

"You have no idea how long it takes a day, 24 hours, to go by until you have to lie in the same position day after day and have no memory of anything you've done in the past," he writes.

The book also recounts how he met Kim and they fell in love.

Jeff and Kim were very different people before catastrophic circumstances brought them together.

"She says she would have had nothing to do with me," Jeff says of his wife of seven years.

Now, they know each other in ways the rest of us can only guess at.

"When I met Jeff, things fell into place," Kim said.

Jeff has become an activist. He is on the board of directors of the Missouri Head Injury Association. He railed against a recent Southeast Missourian editorial critical of stepping up enforcement of seat belt laws.

"Would you rather spend tax dollars chasing people who are not wearing seat belts or millions of dollars on hospital bills for people who weren't wearing seat belts?" he asks.

Jeff's medical bills sapped his $1 million insurance policy within five months. Missouri taxpayers for paying the $500,000-$600,000 cost of his rehabilitation, and he is grateful

Kim has little interest in talking about her accident and recovery anymore -- "What do they say, Been there, done that?" She just wants to live a simple life. "I'm not as ambitious as I used to be," she says.

She has accepted that she must live with limitations, and says "A lot of people who have suffered head injuries are not as successful as Jeff and I."

But she still thinks in terms of goals. "Maybe I'm just afraid of not being successful, that I may not be good enough," she said.

Kim worries that Jeff's usefulness as a speaker may be coming to an end because he's 38 now, as old as some teen-age audience members' parents. When they stop listening, Jeff will have to find a new way to deliver his message.

He is sure he will. "I firmly believe everything happens for a reason," he says. "The reason I can walk and talk is to educate people about brain injuries."