Windsor Star

Concussion leaves woman with Scottish accent

A fall from a horse transforme­d a local woman’s life in ways she never imagined

- CARL HNATYSHYN

Sharon Campbell-Rayment’s Scottish brogue is something to hear.

Whether she’s talking about her beloved horses, discussing the master of divinity degree she obtained at Western University, or speaking about her husband and two daughters, the Rs roll effortless­ly off her tongue as if she’d just stepped off the plane from Glasgow.

But Campbell-Rayment isn’t Scottish.

And until a few years ago, she had never set foot in Scotland. Campbell-Rayment was born and raised in Chatham-Kent and has spent most of her life in Southweste­rn Ontario.

Her thick Highland accent is the result of a concussion and an acquired brain injury suffered after a nasty fall off her horse 10 years ago. Campbell-Rayment is one of approximat­ely 60 people in the world diagnosed with foreign accent syndrome, a neurologic­al condition that has changed her life immeasurab­ly, and in ways she never could have imagined.

She’s undergone a metamorpho­sis of sorts since the fall, not only experienci­ng a change in her accent but also going from being a self-described “Triple-A” personalit­y to a more introspect­ive person who her daughters’ friends say sounds like the film character Mrs. Doubtfire. Campbell-Rayment spoke last month at the Sombra Museum about the trials and tribulatio­ns she’s faced since her mishap as well as the new path that unwittingl­y opened in front of her.

She was riding her horse Malachi on July 11, 2008, at the riding camp she operated out of her Chathamare­a home. The hat she was wearing was blown off and hit her horse on its rear. The animal panicked and began galloping.

“He took off like a shot,” Campbell-Rayment recalled. When the horse saw a group of children, he turned right while Campbell-Rayment flew off to the left, hitting her head on the ground, knocking her out. She was rushed to the hospital and given an MRI, but doctors told her it was a minor concussion. She was discharged and sent home.

But Campbell-Rayment realized something more severe had just occurred. “Everything about that weekend was a blank to me,” said the onetime public-health nurse, United Church minister and fitness-club owner. “But I tried to push through things like I had always done, so I was right back to work on Monday morning.

“To be honest, though, it’s a wee miracle that I’m able to tell this story.”

Soon after the fall, CampbellRa­yment lost the ability to speak. She also became easily fatigued, and bright lights and loud noises bothered her to the point where she spent most of her time alone in dark rooms.

She was deeply depressed, and the once analytical, problem-solving and highly organized person started to become emotional, intuitive and introverte­d. After 12 weeks of speech therapy, Campbell-Rayment said she started to speak again. But to the puzzlement of her speech therapist and her family — and most of all herself — she began speaking with a thick Inverness Scottish accent.

Nobody, including CampbellRa­yment, knew why this was happening.

“It’s funny, you know. My husband, Doug, never missed a beat,” she said with a laugh. “My kids would bring their friends home from school to hear their ‘Irish mum.’ They’d love to sit at the counter and listen to me talk, which was a grand piece for them I suppose.”

But after a visit to Windsor neuropsych­ologist Dr. Saadia Ahmad and following a barrage of tests, Campbell-Rayment discovered the answer: She was one of a handful of people in the world diagnosed with foreign accent syndrome.

The exceedingl­y rare condition is typically found in people who have suffered a stroke or have a traumatic brain injury. The condition causes native speakers to begin speaking with a foreign accent. Examples include an American who started speaking with a British accent, a Japanese person who began speaking with a Korean accent, and a Spanish individual who started speaking with a Hungarian accent.

While relieved to receive the diagnosis, Campbell-Rayment said she was none the wiser about why it happened nor why she started speaking with a Scottish accent. “I hadn’t spent any time in Scotland,” she said. “My family are sixth-generation Scots — Campbell’s the maiden name, right? But there wasn’t a real connection there.

In the end, Campbell-Rayment’s concussion not only changed her accent, but also forced her to stop and take a step back from her formerly hectic life.

Today, she runs a successful therapeuti­c-horse practice out of her home, providing fellow concussion-sufferers and those with a range of other disorders advice on how to minimize anxiety and how to heal themselves with simple breathing techniques and coping strategies.

Even though she still has trouble with bright lights and big crowds, she has become a much sought-after motivation­al speaker. She’s also written a book about her experience­s, entitled Rhythm of Life: Life Lessons Straight from the Horse’s Mouth.

It’s a path she didn’t plan to take, Campbell-Rayment said, but she’s making the most of it. “After the accident I learned how to simply take a breath,” she said. “You know there are so many blessings.

“If I hadn’t had the accident, I wouldn’t have been able to spend time with my kids because I would’ve been out doing so much. And all through their high school years, I was able to be there for them … (after the accident) I began falling into the rhythm of life by actually being present where I was.”

 ?? CARL HNATYSHYN ?? Chatham’s Sharon Campbell-Rayment speaks at Sombra Museum about her life since acquiring foreign accent syndrome after falling from a horse 10 years ago.
CARL HNATYSHYN Chatham’s Sharon Campbell-Rayment speaks at Sombra Museum about her life since acquiring foreign accent syndrome after falling from a horse 10 years ago.

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