The Brain Game: Rehabilitation After Brain Injury

Bruce Powell • August 30, 2025

No One Chooses to Play The Brain Game

No one chooses to play The Brain Game.

One day you wake up, alone on the tee, holding unfamiliar clubs, staring down a course you’ve never seen before.


You’ve played games before, life itself is one long game, but suddenly none of the old rules apply. Your grip is off. Your balance is shaky. Even your swing feels wrong.

This is what rehabilitation after brain injury feels like.


The Course No One Chooses


On this strange golf course, you notice other players. Some look confident, with caddies and high-tech clubs. Others walk alone, carrying their own gear. Everyone is nervous. Everyone is learning.


When it’s your turn, all you can do is swing. Sometimes you miss. Sometimes the ball disappears into the rough. You get a couple of mulligans, but you must keep moving.

Wherever your ball goes, you must find it and play on. Fairway, bush, impossible lie, it doesn’t matter. Rehabilitation works the same way. However many setbacks you face, you must keep trying.


Strange Victories

Welcome to The Brain Game.


At first, your progress is painfully slow. Each shot only inches forward. Victories feel strange and small:


·      remembering your bank PIN,

·      tying your shoelaces,

·      recognising your friend in a crowd.


Every mistake hurts. Every forgotten word stings. Sometimes you cry behind a tree. Sometimes you scream at the sky. No one minds. Everyone playing this game understands the frustration.


Playing Beside Others


You’re not alone. Some people speed ahead, adapting quickly. Others vanish before reaching the green. Some walk beside you, sharing stories while hacking through their own rough.


Everyone plays the same game. No two scorecards look alike.


This is the truth of brain injury recovery: each journey is unique, but every player knows how much effort it takes to keep swinging.


Reaching the Green

Eventually, you reach the green.


Not because you mastered the course, but because you refused to give up. You swap stories with others who’ve made it this far. You share tips, laugh at the absurdity, and realise persistence is the only rule that matters.


Then it’s on to the next hole. Maybe longer. Maybe shorter. Maybe trickier. That’s rehabilitation, always another challenge, another round.


Playing Your Own Shot


Rehabilitation gives you therapists, carers, doctors, and loved ones. But eventually, everyone steps back. It’s just you and the ball. Wherever your shot lands, it’s yours to play. You are in control, however bad your golf might be.


And that’s what makes neuro-rehabilitation so hard, and so human. 


There are no winners here. No podium. No trophy. Just players walking the course together.


All you can do is keep swinging.


Welcome to The Brain Game.

 


Hamlet cover with a black hand holding a white skull on a pale background
By Bruce Powell July 30, 2026
What Hamlet and the operating theatre reveal about automaticity, high performance, rehearsal and life after brain injury.
The Lancet Global Health logo in black and magenta text on a white background
By Bruce Powell July 13, 2026
An ICU doctor who became a brain injury survivor on why the world must finally count TBI as the chronic, lifelong condition it is.
Abstract portrait of a man with gray hair and beard, surrounded by chaotic scribbles, arrows, and geometric shapes
By Bruce Powell June 30, 2026
A traumatic brain injury exposed the ADHD that once powered my career. A raw, honest story about when a superpower turns curse
Red math book titled “The Book of Mathematics” standing on a wooden floor by a window.
By Bruce Powell June 23, 2026
A restless boy, nuns, Christian Brothers and a mind that refused to sit still. A childhood story about intelligence, shame and difference.
Sunset over a sandy beach with silhouettes of people near the waterline
By Bruce Powell June 16, 2026
An ICU doctor becomes the patient after a brain injury, and finds the language of burnout and trauma too thin for what's actually been lost.
Sketch of a man wearing headphones and glasses, seated and labeled “Bruce”
By Bruce Powell May 26, 2026
Former intensive care doctor turned brain injury patient and advocate reflects on recovery, identity, rehabilitation and life after survival.
Headway logo with a face in hands and the text “the brain injury association”
By Bruce Powell May 19, 2026
A reflection on caring, exhaustion and survival, and how writing, poetry and creativity offer carers a quiet place to put things down.
Waterfront city skyline across a calm blue bay under a clear sky, with a railing in the foreground
By Bruce Powell May 13, 2026
A near-fatal crash, a stranger by the river, and the uneasy recognition that sometimes survival depends on someone stopping to ask if you’re OK.
Fluffy brown dog with a dark face sitting outdoors on green grass, looking left
By Bruce Powell May 12, 2026
A brain injury survivor reflects on friendship, identity and uncertainty after trauma, where survival can feel lonelier than loss.
Red question marks blocking a blue arrow path between two rows of directional buttons
By Bruce Powell May 6, 2026
Experience teaches doctors how to stay calm when everything feels chaotic. High performance is often just structured thinking under pressure.
Show More