Crash

The afternoon I hit the publish key on my previous discussion regarding TBI and mental health, all the issues I'd been dealing with during the spring and summer came to a head.  Though there is certainly no good time for it to have happened, the fact that it did so on a day when I was openly discussing the suicidal ideation's that can come with brain injuries couldn't have made the timing worse.  That evening was the catalyst for many changes that have taken place since and while I can sit here today thankful....ish, that the situation transpired as it did, at the time the varying emotions and levels of each was overwhelming, frustrating, and scary as hell. 

On August 17th 2018, the very day I posted discussing the effects TBI can have on mental health titled, The Dark Side of TBI, life for myself and my family took an extreme turn.  On that day I woke at my normal time but rather make my way to the farm, I completed the post, hit publish, and then prepared for work.  At the time I'd be working mostly mornings due to our acknowledgement my mental clarity was best during the beginning of the day but that evening I'd switched in an effort to accomplish a task (washing stalls to be exact) best completed when horses are not being moved and boarders are not present.  Luckily, I'd gone in early enough that a trainer was still working with her own horse and our stable hand hadn't quite finished up her evening shift yet.  Otherwise....well.  This would be an entirely different story and likely not told by me.

Before I continue, I feel as though I need to step back a bit further in order to provide clarity.  Over the course of the winter and spring my health, specifically regarding my TBI, had continued to degrade. I'd been having increased difficulty remembering and processing information, my speech was seemingly getting worse by the week, I was constantly fatigued, and I was consistently agitated to put it nicely.  Physically and mentally I was a wreck.  Whether it was simply the stress from the job and life, the need to work a range of hours in varying weather, or a combination of it all, it was clear I was having issues and the methods of treatment I was using weren't working.  By the time August rolled around, my days consisted of work, (minimum) daily requirements at home, and then rest as much as possible.  None of the projects on our homestead were getting accomplished, I wasn't working toward my long term career goals, and working out had become limited to one day per week, if that.  All the things I'd been doing, including running, were set aside in favor of rest so I could get myself to work the next day.  My interactions with anyone outside my home were near non-existent and the relationships within were suffering tremendously.  I wasn't living.  Hell, I'm not sure if I was really even existing.  I functioned enough to get though the day and that was it.  My wife knew how bad I was struggling.  My OT knew.  My family knew.  And while I'm sure they, like myself, didn't understand the degree, I'm assuming people that saw me at work everyday had some indications as well.

But even though I knew things were getting worse, looking back I don't think I understood the severity of the situation and even if I had, between the need for food on the table and the don't quit/don't fail/don't let down everyone fear I held, do myself any favors simply wasn't in the cards. 

I was in survival mode, just trying to get through the next day, the next week, with the hopes that somewhere along the line I'd find an answer and would once again begin to feel like myself.  And eventually that would come.  But first, I'd have to crash.

And that brings us back to the evening of August 17th.  Upon arrival I was already not feeling great.  My brain felt sluggish and I was already tired given I was accustomed to it being the end of my day. Regardless, I had a job to get done and feeling off was simply something to be worked around by that point.  Additionally, it was a standard task.  Something I'd already done more than a few times so I had no concerns that'd I'd do it well and go home.

Not the exact stall but a good representation if you added a door

I did all my basic checks and with the barn basically empty of riders and the horses in their required locations for the evening, I set to work gathering the tools I'd need; pressure washer, hose, brooms, shovel, large tarp and moved them to the task location.  (For those that don't know, stalls and wash stalls are periodically pressure washed and sanitized to help maintain the health of the horses.  Just like cleaning ones home, living in filth can lead to illness whether human or equine.  In order to do so, the large rubber mats are pulled out, each weighing in the neighborhood of 100 pounds, so that the floor underneath can be cleaned as well.)  After hooking everything up, (this is where things went south in a hurry), because there were still a couple people handling horses and I didn't want the sound of the pressure washer to startle them, I made the decision to pull the gas powered pressure washer into the stall with me...and close the door.

Let me state that one more time:  I, the maintenance man, a person who's lived in Maine my entire life and been hearing and watching warnings related to carbon monoxide poising due to small engines running inside homes (happens at least a couple times of year in the winter due to generators) since I can remember, pulled the gas powered generator into the approximately 12 foot by 12 foot un-ventilated room...and Shut. The. Fucking. Door.

I made it for quite awhile before I began to feel the physical consequences of such a careless decision.  I washed all the rubber mats first without issue, shut the washer down, opened the door, and pulled them out; feeling nothing at that time.  I then went back in, closed the door.... again, and began spraying down the concrete floor and walls.  I have no idea how long I was in there before the effects became noticeable.  At first I thought it was heat related and tried to push through because I was fairly close to being done.  Frankly, given it was August and the washer was hooked to hot water, I thought what I was feeling was heat related.  However, from the time I began to feel ill to the time I needed to sit down because I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand, was mere minutes.  Shutting the washer off I opened the door, and stepped out into the cooler and cleaner air and sat down, working to clear my head and catch my breath.  It still hadn't dawned on me what I'd done.  I thought the heat and humidity of the room had flared my TBI symptoms.  It wasn't until my co-worker, who was thankfully still there even though it was a few minutes past the end of her shift, saw me sitting, came to check on me, and upon smelling the fumes, recognized and informed me of what I'd done.

Immediately, I knew she was right and immediately, I knew that I'd fucked up severely and was in potential danger.  When asked, I agreed to have the ambulance called and while waiting, her and the aforementioned trainer, who's also a vet tech (I believe that's her title anyways) stayed with me and checked on me best they could.  When the ambulance hadn't arrived after an extended period, the owners husband swung in to pick me up and dropped me off at the ER.  I was obviously feeling fairly shitty at that point and they got me on pure O2 in an effort to break up the carbon monoxide in my blood as quickly as possible.  I was in the hospital for a few hours with it and the attending physicians stated that I had likely had a CO2 blood level somewhere between 40-50%.

What does that mean?  At those levels the symptoms are headache, confusion, collapse, and fainting during exertion.  At the 60-70% loss of consciousness, possible convulsions, heart failure, and possible death occur.  At 80%, it's all she wrote.(https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK220007/table/ttt00024/?report=objectonly)
If things hadn't gone exactly right and I'd passed out in the stall or if my co-worker had left on time and after sitting for a few I'd decided to try and finish up (which is a reasonable course of action to consider frankly), I wouldn't be writing this.  I was lucky, very lucky.  My inability to make admissions to myself regarding my brain health almost cost me my life.

For obvious reasons, I was pretty shaken up in the days after.  The incident would lead to the eventual separation from the job because admittedly such actions shown me to be a liability given what the job entailed.  My confidence in my decision making was clearly shaken as was my emotional state.  I was broken physically, mentally, and emotionally.  I don't really remember the subsequent couple weeks other than shortly thereafter the life changing opportunity I'd been waiting for came to fruition and after being offered the opportunity to work as an intern as a coach at a gym, I was able to turn it into a job and pursue my passion.

And while some may not know my TBI story, I also do not hide it nor can I or should I hide from what happened last August.  We all make mistakes but on that day what I did was not me.  It was a clear indication that I could not continue to live that life and it was going to change whether I wanted it too or not.  Do I wish I'd been able to handle it differently?  Yes.  Did it have to go the way it did?  Unfortunately, probably.  But like with the rest of my concussion story, my hope is that eventually I'll be able to work it into a teachable moment so it wasn't all for nothing.  So that scaring the shit out of my wife, family, and self wasn't all for nothing..