Do you have any questions?

"I mean what questions do you even ask?"

I struggled to get the words out.

I didn't know. And I didn't hardly even remember that the conversation had taken place until one day, months after the accident, I finally mustered just enough courage to scroll through my phone back to "the day".

And what I found that day were 2 things.

One - A recording of a conversation of myself and my son's ER doctor. It was several hours after my son had been flown in to be treated and after many hours of tears and visitors, I found myself exhausted, overwhelmed and in an abyss of the unknown.

I was in survival mode and reverted back to one of the best pieces of advice that I've ever been given - "take notes".

My mom, nearly two decades before, had told me this when I became a Mom and although I've seen her do it multiple times throughout the years of navigating other family medical journeys, there was only one other time I had to put the advice into play.

L was a toddler at the time and I remember so vividly asking his pediatrician, on a Friday late after hours, to stop and grab me a pen and paper. I could see it in his eyes. I knew what he was potentially about to tell me was going to change our lives. My mom instincts were about to wander solely to my son, not the cold hard facts the Dr. was about to share and I couldn't miss a detail. So I listened, I took notes and left with the information I needed so I could process later and correctly relay to his dad.

I remember the pediatrician being so understanding and accommodating that day, and in a way I felt he respected the ask because he knew he was delivering heavy news. He knew I needed to be a mom and a prepared caregiver all at once.

That advice and those notes had served me well in the past and here I was again - me, my baby boy (although now 6'2") and his doctor.

It was the same look the pediatrician years ago had given me. It was the little glimpse of humanity that seeps through years of medical training - and it was his tell.

This news wasn't going to be easy to share, nor easy for a mother to receive - and it was my sign to "take notes".

But on this night in the ER, there was no time for pen and paper, so I grabbed my phone and hit RECORD.

The recording is as real as it gets. I can hear every ounce of worry, hope, dread, fear, my clinging to every memory we had together in those 19 years and even annoyance in my voice, because I didn't want to small talk - I just needed to be able to fix it. That's what mamas do, right?

But I couldn't.

At the end of the conversation, the Dr. asks me, "Do you have any more questions?"

My response, shakily, "I mean what questions to you even ask?"

His demeanor changed immediately and he became the parent before the doctor and he didn't have an answer for me. You see, the small talk we had briefly passed through was about our sons - his son just so happened to be friends with one of my son's best friends.

He had been trained for years to answer all the questions. But not this one.

And that was the second thing I found that day.

I had so many questions but I didn't know what to ask. I didn't know what to ask because I'd never been here. I had never even feared where 'here' was because even in my worst fears 'here' had never crossed my mind.

This was new territory and there was no handbook. At that point, I didn't know what I didn't know.

And now I do know at least some questions that I would have asked. And I know I'm not alone.

If you've faced, or loved someone who has faced trauma or traumatic brain injury, I'd love to get some of the questions you wish you knew to ask. Email or comment below.

My list of "What to ask when facing TBI" is a running one and I'll share that soon. For now, if you find yourself in a situation - hit record. There is a LOT of information to process and you'll be glad you did.

Peace. Love. Agape.

~K