Report Flap Delays Rausch Sentence : ‘She May Never Be the Same,’ Mother Now Says

In the euphoric days following Amanda Arthur’s awakening from a lengthy coma, her mother was sure Arthur would make a complete recovery.

These days, Chris Maese is not so sure.

Nearly a year after the tragic car crash that left Arthur brain-damaged, physical therapy consumes nearly every waking minute of her day. She continues to make progress, but it is slow.

She cannot yet walk without help and uses a wheelchair. She struggles to use her right arm and leg, both of which were paralyzed in the accident. She has recovered her voice, but not all of her memory.

“I have been saying all along that she is going to recover 100%, and maybe I shouldn’t have,” Maese said. “She has come a long way, but she may never be the same. I don’t know. I’m just grateful she’s alive.”

Arthur, 18, has settled into a routine that is very different from the one she enjoyed a year ago that included cheerleading practice, trips to the beach, football games and nights out with friends.

These days, she spends as long as 12 hours every day relearning things: swallowing, walking, gripping, smiling, speaking clearly. Maese said no end to the constant therapy is in sight.

On a typical day, Maese rouses her at 6:45 a.m., and they make their first trip of the day to Mission Viejo, where therapy begins at 7:15 a.m.

She spends an hour and a half in a hyperbaric chamber breathing pure oxygen, which doctors hope will help heal her brain.

At mid-morning, mother and daughter hit the road again for Orange, where Arthur receives as much as seven hours of physical and speech therapy.

She has gained the strength to prop herself up with her arms and walk with assistance. She must keep working, or her muscles will atrophy. Right now, she also is learning to write with her left hand.

The afternoon ends in Mission Viejo and another session in the hyperbaric chamber.

Arthur rarely returns home before 5 p.m., when her home-schooling teacher from the Newport-Mesa Unified School District arrives several nights a week to tutor her.

The daily grind of therapy is not only exhausting, admits Maese, it is expensive. Medi-Cal benefits do not cover the entire cost of treatment, and the family is struggling financially.

And there are times when her condition is deeply frustrating for Arthur. Like a typical teenager, she longs to be a social animal.

“I’m sick of it,” she said, referring to her therapy routine. “I want to go back to school. I want to be with my friends.”

The faces and names of her friends are among her strongest memories of life before the accident. She recognizes most of them instantly, but has almost no recollection of the events that tie them to one another. The places they went together, the classes they took and the secrets they shared have all been erased.

But the memory of events the night of the crash also are gone.

She does remember Donny Bridgman, the friend who died in the crash, and Jason Rausch, who was driving. She has been told what happened to her, that she was thrown from the car and landed on her head, and that is why she must spend all day with doctors instead of her friends.

But Arthur insists she will beat the odds.

When Maese told her Friday it may be a long while before she goes back to school, Arthur pointed her finger at her mother and promised, “I am going to prove you wrong.”