People Only Know What They Know—Until They Learn More
I’m not a realtor, though I did take a real estate course years ago with the intention of becoming one. At that time, one of my unique challenges became clear—I couldn’t pass the real estate exam on the computer. The math section required working out problems on paper and transferring the answers, but because of my brain injury, I struggled with that process. I tried three times. I even had to take the real estate school’s test four times before I finally passed.
I bring this up because I write about brain injuries, and today is a good day for people to consider the value in asking questions. I am still learning how to formulate them. Specific situations demand certain questions. As Albert Einstein once said, “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”
Earlier, I was in a nearby town’s code enforcement office. A realtor friend had asked me to photograph a tax card and a property file. Simple, right? Something I’ve done many times. Usually, I give the address, they hand me the file, print the tax card, and I’m on my way.
Not this day.
The address was unclear. The property had been divided, and no one agreed on which lot was the right one. My friend on the phone had the wrong number but the right page and road. The code enforcement officer had his take. The office manager had hers. A sewer permit was mentioned, which meant a file had to exist. But after 45 minutes of searching, no one could find it.
That’s when I suggested checking the original “mother file” from which the parcels had been split. Sure enough, buried in that file was every missing document.
Why am I telling you this?
Because this is how my brain works. I don’t give up. I crack jokes to keep people engaged, even when they’re frustrated. I keep searching when things don’t make sense. And I remind myself—people only know what they know. As Thomas Edison put it, “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”
Sometimes, the answer isn’t where we expect it to be.
Nothing went smoothly. The GPS told me I had arrived at Town Hall, but it wasn’t there. If I had parked then and walked through the library out and to the building behind that, I would’ve found it right away. Instead, I drove through neighborhoods, taking turns guided by intuition until I figured it out. Old New England towns can be tricky. Sometimes computers aren’t right. Sometimes people aren’t right either.
And that brings me to the medical field. Right now, doctors don’t have the full picture when it comes to brain injury recovery. They’re using therapies that may not work while ignoring ones that could. they are causing people to suffer unnecessarily because they have not yet realized that one solution does not work for all. Sometimes the solutions that can work don’t stand a chance because they are done in the wrong order. People are suffering needlessly because the right questions aren’t being asked. If the brain injury community had the collective ability to advocate as effectively as needed, things would be different. But many struggle to articulate their challenges, and because of that, solutions remain buried—just like that missing file.
Before I left Town Hall, I handed the staff a copy of my book. It wasn’t the newest edition—this one had mistakes. But mistakes are part of life, and they teach us more than success ever will. If we aren’t trying, we aren’t learning.
Maya Angelou said it best: “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
So if you know someone who is frustrated, angry, confused, or feeling hopeless about their brain injury recovery, tell them to keep searching.
Answers exist.
And when people say, “That’s just the way it is,” remind them—people only know what they know.
That’s where we start.
And we don’t stop until we find the solution.
Copyright © 2025 by Gail Waitkun