The 55-year-old Sioux Falls, S.D., nurse was hit and run over by a pickup truck March 2, 2011, while heading into work.
Her head injury was so severe that part of her brain had to be removed. Her right arm and right leg were useless for a time. She couldn't talk or walk.
Now living at a rehabilitation center here, Miles has set three goals for herself:
1. To regain the strength in her right hand.
2. To walk more.
3. To speak again.
The third goal is why the voice that shares those ambitions comes not from Miles' own throat, but from a voice generated by an iPad application.
The device allows her to do something as ordinary as order her own coffee. It's a simple act, but liberating to Miles and others who use assistive devices in their daily lives.
"I felt very excited and relieved at the same time. I finally have a way to talk," Miles says via iPad. "It has improved my life in many ways such as being able to pick out my clothes in the morning and being able to do simple things such as saying 'hi' to a friend."
Miles' use of an iPad to help her deal with the challenges caused by her injuries is part of a growing movement. More and more, common consumer technologies such as iPads and their applications are helping people who have injuries or disabilities do a variety of things, such as communicate with family or caregivers, or relearn simple tasks they mastered long ago, such as reading.
Since the accident, Miles has been unable to speak with her family and friends except for saying one word: "Yeah." But her intonation — and her expressive eyes and facial movements — infuse that one word with a variety of meanings.
"Did you like The Hunger Games?" speech language pathologist Lindsey Bugee asks Miles.
"Yeah," Miles replies, as she tightens her lips and shakes her head to indicate that her true feelings about the movie were mixed.
"Are you ready to walk again?" physical therapist Jenny Deutz asks Miles after they pause briefly to rest after walking halfway down a hallway.
"Yeah," Miles says, quickly attempting to position her feet flat on the floor so she can stand again.
Paul Mugge, Miles' older brother, was in India when he got the call about his sister's accident. He flew back to Sioux Falls in the middle of the night.
"She died on the operating table twice in surgery," he says. "It was bleak. Part of her brain was removed to stop the bleeding. She had so many broken bones. She didn't move her right arm or right leg for six months.
"Speech was the worst; they couldn't make any promises. They thought she might be a vegetable if she survived at all."
Miles understands language much better than she can produce it, says Dr. Jeff Snell, a neuropsychologist and Quality Living rehabilitation center's director of psychology. Originally, her ability to understand complex instructions was compromised.
"Over time, that's improved," Snell says. "She's able to use an iPad … now with some degree of efficiency and effectiveness, simply through repetition and routine and improved cognition as well."
Miles' mother died three months before the accident. Miles has a son, Nick, in Sioux Falls who makes the three-hour drive to Omaha several times a week. He often brings her dog, Bandit.
Miles' face lights up when the dog comes into her room, and Bandit has become a staff favorite, Bugee says. In his absence, Miles visits the local humane society on Tuesdays to pet the homeless cats and dogs.
But the iPad has made the biggest difference in quality of life for Miles in recent months.
"We wanted to make sure she had a way to communicate," Bugee says.
Life skills assistants make frequent trips off campus with residents. With the iPad programmed to ask a barista for a latte, a cinnamon dolce latte, coffee with creamer or a caramel drink, Miles now can place her own order.
When Bugee asks Miles how her day is going, Miles pushes a button on the iPad that responds politely, "I'm fine, thank you."
She traces letters and numbers on the device's screen, the repetition helping to restore them to her memory. The staff often finds Miles practicing on her own, cheeks puffed out as she works on breath control or compressing her lips to make various sounds.
"Her language and knowledge is still there, which is why she's able to use a device to select words and phrases," Snell says. "She still thinks in terms of language and understands it to a better degree than she can express it. I can't think of anything more frustrating than to not be able to be understood."
No matter what, Miles says she will work toward independence.
"Yeah," she says, shaking her head in a way that causes her dark curls to cover the surgery-produced indentation in her left temple.
"Yeah."
(Source: usatoday.com)
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