Tears

I mentioned last week that I have a propensity to cry, especially over emotional situations. Rarely for physical injury, almost always due to emotions. 

To illustrate this, a couple years ago when cutting firewood I stabbed my self with a pulp hook in the shin. Not that it matters but it can happen when hurrying and not paying proper attention. It hurt bad enough that I went to the ER to make sure I didn't have a fracture; after I finished the load of wood I was working on. No tears, just annoyance combined with a hole in the shape of the end of the hook.

Compare that to me watching some movies and tv shows. And not just sad scenes, but triumphant ones. Yes, sometimes I get tears watching GOOD things. It's like my emotions overload and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

What's interesting is that while it was never quite to this level before my accident in 2016, emotional tears have been a thing for me for a long time. And knowing what I know now, I think it was because of my first accident that happened way back before I was even school age. Back then I fell off a couch onto a heating register, head first, full weight. It's actually a wonder I didn't injure my neck given where I hit. I then followed that up years later when another fall, this time in a clawfoot cast iron tub. In that case I came directly down on my chin, causing a whiplash effect . These were both before bike accident's without helmet's (80's kid) and years of football would add to my trauma. 

The reason I mention the initial accident as a child is because of something my mother would say years later to my step-father while I was getting scolded for crying. She told him that when I was little, I never cried and my tears as I got older were just making up for that. Now, some of that of course is just a mother trying to protect her child. But, it's also not out of the realm of possibility and dare I say, even likely, that I had a change in emotional function following that first injury. I literally landed full weight, on my head, on top of a heating register at somewhere between 3-4 years old. The scar from the stitches is still visible when I shave my head and it's actually a common trait that emotional responses and personality traits change post brain injury (comedian Sam Kinison is an example).

And that brings us to today. Emotional crying has nearly always been a thing but after my accident in 2016 it's escalated. As I mentioned in the beginning, even watching a movie with a triumphant ending can elicit tears. Sad endings now seem to be a given. The Avengers: Endgame is an example of that. When Ironman sacrifices himself (spoiler alter though if you haven't seen it yet, no sympathy), yep, tears. Right there in public in the theater. No choice. Tried to hold them back but to no avail. Hell, watching Miracle the last time, when they beat the Russians and Kirk Russel as Herb Brooks was in disbelief at doing something so momentous, tears. Not necessarily crying but I was misty.

This has all come to the forefront this week as we set up for Christmas because a year ago at this time we found out that our Shepard, Kane, was dying of cancer (he crossed the rainbow bridge January 9th of 2020). Placing his ornament on the tree and hanging his stocking brought out, you guessed it, tears. Now it's not unusual of course to cry over the loss of a beloved pet, but for me, I feel like my emotional response to him passing and still today was overly strong. I question it enough that I'm actually wondering if I have what's referred to as Pseudobulbar affect, a disorder that causes laughing and/or crying uncontrollably or at questionable times. It's certainly something I plan to ask about at my next neuro appointment.

So, why do I write this? I write it because it's embarrassing if I'm being honest and it always has been. I'm a big dude. I'm a beard wearing, weight lifting, gun shooting, deer hunting, woodcutting, car fixing red blooded male. While definitions of the sexes have and continue to change, my definition of masculinity includes such things. 

It does not, however, include crying at the movies. 

And I know I'm damn sure not alone on that one. Knowing this, I could also see how such a scenario could have not just a drastic effect on someone, but potentially a fatal one. 

So I share. 

I share my embarrassment. Because by doing so it:

1. Removes the possibility it can be used against me. It's hard to weaponize an admitted embarrassment. 
2. Because someone else out there may be fighting a similar battle and by saying it out loud and admitting it, it'll perhaps allow them to do the same. 

It's embarrassing, it also just is. The only way to control it is to avoid. 

🠊Avoid going to the movies. 

🠊Avoid watching a tv show or movie with your family because you don't want to explain why you're crying. 

🠊Avoid not just bad feelings, but good ones as well because you're scared of embarrassing yourself in front of others. 

Avoiding life for fear of of presenting an uncontrollable act is no way to live. I've done it and frankly, it's exhausting. If you're reading this and you deal with it, you understand. If you're reading this and don't deal with it but do have issues that present physically beyond your control, you get it too. 

It sucks but let me tell you, even just writing this is cathartic. Knowing that someone may read it and feel better about themselves, feels great. Acknowledging that my issue is not just mine but others out there will understand provides acceptance.

And revealing such a personal trait to the world that can either be accepted or potentially used against me is empowering because it's beyond my control how this is received by others. 

I can only control how I handle myself. 

And that makes me happy. Maybe even happy enough to cry.  

 

TBI Journey

 If nothing else, TBI is certainly a journey. Many use the comparison of a roller coaster because of how many ups and downs are inherent but I don't think that's quite accurate. With a roller coaster the ups and downs are quick and intense. While that can apply, TBI and it's associated recovery is not quick. Intense at times, yes. But rarely quick. For most the only thing quick was whatever lead to the injury itself. Whether sports injury, accident, stroke, burst aneurysm; we're never prepared for when it comes and then, it's just part of our life. 

Just. Like. That.

So what would I compare TBI to if not a roller coaster? Parenting comes to mind. It also has moments of intensity. Sometimes that intensity is good, sometimes not so much. It has many ebbs and flows and like TBI recovery, is for life. There is no real end until the real end comes. It's a constant learning and applying process with changes and education often coming after mistakes have already been made. Books, studies, and opinions are often read and applied in a variety of ways and every so often the shit will hit the fan. Yes, parenting and TBI have much in common.

Learning, adapting, emotional breakdowns, wondering how to correct and fix, these are daily feelings of each. They also escalate at times depending on the day and situation. There is also no area in life that isn't impacted by each. Work, rest, financial habits, down time, nutrition habits, all affected. 

But there's also the good. Yes, there can be and often is good, that comes with receiving a traumatic brain injury as weird as that may sound. 

Many people report becoming more connected to life. They understand it's value much more and tend to take it less for granted. 

An increase in empathy is often mentioned as well. Not just for other's who had a similar injury, but for anyone who's had trials and tribulations. Being injured, especially if it's invisible gives some insight into the behaviors of others we may not have paid attention to, or experienced, prior. 

The ability and desire to help others. Many in the TBI community use their experiences and the researched they'd done to aid their own recovery with others. And that pushes research and knowledge of the subject further. The reality is TBI is likely to always be a problem because we now understand just how sensitive our brains are to outside influences and with knowledge of how our brains work still in it's infancy, the more data and the more experiences available for study, the better not just for individuals but for humanity as a whole going forward. 

Whether it's parenting, TBI, or frankly, life, the journey is where our focus is best served. There will be struggle day to day, week to week, even year to year at times but by focusing on the journey, by journaling our experiences, by trying and failing, we can continue to grow and improve. 

Just like we teach out children to do.  

 

Light

I made an incredible realization yesterday; for the first time since my injury, I'm actually feeling like my pre-2106 self in many ways.  Honestly, it's amazing and makes me incredibly happy, though I'm also admittedly apprehensive.  The best way to explain it is that it's like my favorite team just took the lead in the championship game but there's still time enough for the opposing team to make a winning play.  Happy to be ahead but still aware that the game is far from over.

Though there's anxiety that comes with such a scenario, when you feel like you've been playing from behind for a considerable amount of time, it's still a good place to be honestly. And while I cannot get the time back that's been lost, it's not to say that there's been no value in this journey because there absolutely is, has been, and will continue to be so.

Part of this process taking so long has been experimentation.  Part has admittedly been my fault for trying to continually behave as though nothing happened.  Part has been out of my control.  Add each and you have the past four years of my life and thus, the life of my family as well.  In that time I've gone through three jobs, three what I'll call relapses for lack of a better term, countless medical appointments, hours of research, numerous days when I didn't feel like myself and couldn't think straight and a couple accidents related to my health issues.  Many memories have been lost and information learned but not retained.  Increased anxiety, depression, and physical symptoms like trouble speaking and and even walking at times.

But I've also had the opportunity to meet some great people, speak at the Maine Brain Injury Conference, find avenues for helping others, and otherwise get involved with the brain injury community at large, albeit in small ways currently.

It's been a roller coaster for sure.  And one that's certainly affected my family.  During the time I've attempted sometimes successfully, many times not so much, to continue being my old self.  I've been Shawna's caregiver, Caden's coach, tried to answer the call when someone needs help.  To be a husband and father and a son and friend.  Normal life activities while attempting to heal but ones that have been a mixed bag of some success and many failures. 

I've also worked to maintain the pursuit of dreams and goals.  To learn and adapt.  To continue pursuing forward, many times as though nothing has changed.  Separate none of these are generally a problem.  Combined, combined is where I've run into trouble.

I have a post mostly written that builds off today that I'll be dropping next week detailing many of the changes I've made but those changes really come down to having the ability to incorporate them into life due to the COVID shutdown of the past 8 weeks.  Because it was mandatory to be home, I've used that time to work on rest, sleep, and probably just as important, develop and implement routines.  Routines I needed but didn't want to admit too (notice a theme there..)  Not all work and even those that do often need adjustments, but they've certainly had a positive impact.

As I said, I'll be getting more into detail regarding those topics next weeks.  For today, it's simply nice to take a deep breath (yes I know, interesting phrase to use during this time in history).  I feel lighter.  I'm studying fairly difficult subjects with some success.  I'm busy consistently but not getting completely worn down to the point of losing myself. I have more medical appointments but feel as though I'm going into them with much more data now that can be used in combination with the Dr's to create proper treatment plans.  (I think a discussion on being involved with ones' own care might be in order come to think of it).

But best yet, I feel able to be involved with my family again.  I'm not constantly aggravated or flustered by noise and questions that require me to think when mentally exhausted.  I'm not feeling consistent neural fatigue and fear that my brain will shut down all the time.  I'm able to spend more time with Caden and incorporate some of the experiences and teaching of lessons I'd had planned over the years.  For now, instead of my brain being the limiting factor, it's time.  And time, or at least how we choose to use, can generally be manipulated to fit our wants and needs unlike a misfiring brain. 

It feels like there is light not just at the end of the tunnel, but in the tunnel itself.

I can work with that. 

Morning Anger: Seeking the Route Cause

This morning a situation presented in our house that caused anger.  And like a virus, my anger quickly distributed itself among the rest of the family.  Thankfully my wife is just as big a hard headed pain in the ass as I can can be, which played a large part in it's eventual resolution, but between the time my anger spiked and that resolution I was able to arrive at a place where investigating the true source of my emotions became possible.  And that's important, because like many physical injuries, it's often not what's presented that's the actual cause, but simply a symptom of an underlying issue.

I'm not going to get into what the situation was today because it's not pertinent, but my subsequent reaction is because it's a situation that happens to all of us.  How often has a situation or scenario caused a surprise emotional response and you're left dumbfounded as to why that, of all things, caused such a reaction?  I'm willing to bet more than you even remember.  In the after, did you investigate the why?  And if you found the why, did you address it?  Did you communicate it with the person or persons who upset you?  Did you stand in the mirror and search for you own role in the situation?

Because nothing is easy about it.  From confronting your own feelings to communicating them to others, the whole things sucks.  And it needs to.  It needs to be uncomfortable.  Because the comfort we seek is often the reason that we feel so shitty.  The avoidance of conflict, even with those we love, seems more comfortable than the 5 minutes of discomfort we'll feel having a difficult conversation.  But what we don't know, forget, or choose to ignore, is the comfort that's on the backside of this discomfort.  As a coach/personal trainer, I see this play out all the time from a physical standpoint.  People don't want to come to the gym but they force themselves to and by the time they're done, they're happy they showed up.  It's the same thing when confronting our emotional well being.  We must show up, even when we don't want to, and put in the work.

Quite frankly, I've been a bit of a mess lately.  I've been pushing extremely hard to get many tasks accomplished before the snow arrives plus continuing with my half-marathon training.  Throw in the upcoming holidays, life events, and day to day tasks and my TBI affected brain is screaming for relief.  And while I've been working to give it sleep, hydration, and better nutrition, I've been ignoring many of its requests for respite.  And that's largely what led into today.  My brain has been giving me signs that I need to communicate my needs better but instead of listening I've simply ignored and continue to pushed foreword.

To my own detriment and to the detriment of solidly being able to communicate with my loved ones.

But while my injury may get some of the credit, it doesn't get all of it.  Because I'm not the only person who does this.  And similar situations would arise before my accident so clearly this is something I've needed to work on for sometime.  As I get older, more experienced, and gain more understanding and insight I hope my ability to confront such things before they get to a point like they did this morning will improve, but that won't happen unless I demand it of myself.  Unless I get more comfortable being uncomfortable.  Unless I continue to work on taking my own advice and the advice of those around me.

Because that's how this this works.  In order to find the causes of our anger and other discontentment, we must both seek the toughest truths and then confront them.  And we must remember that we're generally not alone unless we choose to be.  For me, that's difficult.  I do a lot of things alone.  From working to learning to attempting to diagnose difficult issues within my life, I've spent years approaching such situations myself.  Sure I'll take some input here and there but I've spent more time seeking to solve problems than was necessary if I'm being honest, because asking for assistance was something I didn't even wish to entertain.

There is more information than ever before available on the internet when we choose to seek it instead of looking as ass pics on Instagram and video game feeds on Twitch.  There are people like me writing about life situations and there are those with much higher education publishing information at unimaginable rates that can help us be better.  Be physically more healthy.  Be better in our careers and with our families. To be better emotionally and spiritually.  But reading and watching such things often isn't as fun or comfortable as watching the ball game or scrolling our feeds, so we don't.  And that's unfortunate.

Because we can find the causes.  And we can be better.

For our communities.  For our families.



And for ourselves. 

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..       









 

The Dark Side of TBI

If you’re offended by language and real talk, this post is not going to be for you. Because sometimes, when what’s in your head is itching to come out, it’s best to simply remove the filter and let it say whatever it wishes by using your fingers as nothing more than a conduit.

Brain injuries can be a son of a bitch.  Not just because of the menial inconveniences they illicit, but because they're forever attempting to manipulate your thoughts and actions. The brain understands you even when you don’t understand yourself and it’ll slowly work on your weaknesses by creating doubts, fears, emotions, actions, depression, and leaving you with nothing but the fallout and consequences to deal with later. Of course, this isn’t guaranteed to happen but from the stories of others, I’ve been able to gather that my experiences are not abnormal….and they can be fucking frightening.

Killing myself has been a topic of conversation within my head numerous times.  And it's always striking when I'm feeling my lowest or when I'm mentally fatigued because it's a bitch like that.  I finally revealed this to my wife a few weeks ago, while deeply intoxicated off a shit load of Irish whiskey. For clarity, I’ve never come close to even taking a single step toward any actions that would take me down that road.  But it has given my insight into the minds of those who have and those who may be considering it.  I'm thankful that I have and have had the resources available to inform me of this possibility before it ever happened.  When added to my long time interest in psychology, I am no doubt fortunate in many respects.  I can’t even begin to imagine how others felt in previous years before we began to gain some understanding into the long term effects of brain trauma. It’s the main reason why I no longer watch football, especially the NFL. What many of those former players had to suffer through because of what was hidden is fucking haunting to anyone who’s experiencing the side effects of TBI. Not only did they have to suffer through the effects of the injuries, but to then be repeatedly told that nothing was actually wrong and “it was in their head”, (the irony of that statement is not lost on me) ect; what a gross indignity to experience simply so millionaires could become billionaires.

And not only did the NFL players suffer because the research was stymied, but so did other players from college down to high school and pee wees. Military veterans couldn’t have received proper care even if the VA wasn’t a shit show, and treatment for those in car and other accidents was never as good as it could have been for over 20 years because the research that could have enhanced treatment procedures was never performed. If it seems like I’m a little jaded, it’s because I am.

The fact is, I was always going to end up here. Even if the initial information had been revealed back in the late 80’s and early 90’s, there’s a good chance it would not have advanced enough to be of much use to me. Add in the fact a tree literally landed on top of me, getting a fucked up human processor was probably always in the cards. That’s OK, I can deal with it. It sucks sometimes, but I’m making due; pretty much. If nothing else, because self-awareness is something I’m continuously working on, I believe I have a fantastic opportunity to use my situation to help others. And that’s what’s promoted me to write this. People need to know that they’re not alone.

As I mentioned earlier, the thought of ending it all, i.e, committing suicide, is one that seems to always be fighting to make itself known. It’s not always there, but especially when I’m feeling down, it’s voice will speak a little louder and I’ll have to mentally drop kick it back into its hole. Sadness is a big one.  Long term frustration can be as well.  As can be the presentation of new symptoms that also align with other disorders and diseases. When they’re fatal ones, having such news revealed on on top of an already fragile emotional state can be completely over fucking whelming let me tell ya. Your broken brain will head off in every God damn direction imaginable and trying to slow it down is near damn impossible. 

And why shouldn’t it? Now that scientists and medical professionals are studying the short and long term affects of brain injuries, daily, words like Alzheimer, dementia, Parkinson's, ALS, Lewy Body, and of course, CTE, are being associated. When you’re 35, already nervous at best and scared at worst because you have blank spots in your memory, forget things, have trouble retaining new information, and have to work through anxiety issues every now and again, being constantly presented with the possibility that your future holds no memory of your life, well, telling the world it can fuck off simply seems appropriate.

I don’t have solutions. Hell, at the moment I don’t have any theories to speak of. I’m in the same boat as other people in that I’m simply looking for a path that will work for me. I’m sleeping more than I’d prefer. On top of the symptoms mentioned above, I’m currently battling fatigue, dysphagia, aphasia, headaches, sensitivity to sight and sound, some other speech issues, memory lapses, and perhaps most frustrating of all, a complete lack of ability to concentrate when my fatigue hits a certain stage. Many days I come home from work, eat and head immediately to bed for a nap that lasts anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour and 20 minutes. When I wake, I’m about half of who I was in the morning and only for a few hours, and then it’s back to bed for a good nights recharge (hopefully).

In the mornings I’m good for anywhere from 5 to 7 hours before there is a noticeable decline in my cognition.  After that I can still do activities but generally they need to be tasks I've done before and work off muscle memory, if you will.  I can work outside on the tractor, clean the house, cook dinner, ect but studying becomes extremely difficult to impossible, discussing complex ideas is a no-go, and even holding some conversations can be an exercise in futility.  Clearly this does not just impact me but my entire family as well because we have to work around such issues as well as it limits my ability to have the kinds of interactions I'd prefer.  I have not had an opportunity recently to test if it’s the same if I get a couple days of rest because I’ve not had an opportunity to get a couple days worth of rest. Admittedly I have some theories I’d like to try so I can begin finding more concrete solutions but in general, life doesn’t give a fuck about my theories so like most others, I push on and try to figure things out when I can.

I strive to make the majority of my posts positive but sometimes things suck and need to be called like they are.  At times I don’t have an ability to put on a face for the world and it simply get's what I have. It seems to be happening more and more lately and I honestly don’t know whether it’s good or bad. TBI and post concussion are real thing but also still in their infancy with regard to medical understanding, treatment, and public knowledge and acceptance. Whether I’ll actually have any impact through my experiences is difficult, if not impossible to say. But...but, I certainly hope this isn’t all for naught.

And while this seems like I’m bitching, and I guess I sort of am, it’s also honest. As is the fact that there are people in this world a hell of a lot worse off than I am.  Still, it doesn’t change that this shit gets to you. It wears you down when certain situations happen and you understand your reactions, behaviors, and memories are not the same as they once were. I don’t know what made me write this tonight. Perhaps it was just time. I feel like while I’ve been fighting back against this TBI/PCS issue, I’ve also been letting in lead the way in most respects. I’ve been reactionary to what it’s thrown at me and I'm finally attempting to take the necessary steps to take back some control. To try and not be so completely exhausted at the end of the day I can barely hold a conversation or attempt to learn something new. To try and take this bitch by the horns so I can truly find ways to adapt and overcome the obstacles.

 Or perhaps I needed to write this because while my intent was to let others know they’re not alone, I need to know I’m not alone too.




If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please reach out to someone who'll listen.  Whether it's a friend, family member, professional, or group.  Linked are some resources who can help.

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/help-yourself/veterans/

Concussion Recovery Part 2: Stepping Back

The day after hitting publish on the first Concussion recovery post, I had a couple thoughts. First and foremost, the writing was shit and clearly a step back from where I'd been months before.  Secondly, I didn't fucking care because the point wasn't to write my masterpiece, it was simply to write something, almost anything, and hit publish.  Getting a win in this facet of life was important, perhaps vitally important if I were ever to continue.  When I initially expressed my thoughts regarding the (lack of) quality the misses thought I was preparing to delete and began protesting until I informed her otherwise.  Clearly she also recognized that while it wasn't my best work, simply publishing was where the value lied.  The third thought was that I'm going to have to revert back a bit in this discussion because I left out far too many details that are inherent to explaining what's happened.  Frankly, much of it was nothing more than a jumbled mess that seemed to leave more questions than answers.  I could, of course, delete and re-write the entire draft but to do so would remove what I believe to be an important step on this road to recovery and some clear evidence for readers fighting similar issues that they're not alone.  Recovering from TBI is a long, pain in the ass road that will be filled with victory and set-backs and we must acknowledge, learn from, and accept our failures as well as our successes on the road back.

When I left you last, I'd mentioned experiencing a relapse.  I'll discuss that shortly but first let me step back a bit farther and explain a few things.  First, I don't really remember the months immediately following the tree accident and the relapse is much more clear so it's easier for me to discuss.  Sometimes memories come back from that time frame but it seems to be the exception not the norm.  As an example:  My cousin was married post accident during the summer of 2016.  I actually attempted to drive us to the wedding (this was before Shawna was able to get her license back after getting her seizures under control) but only made it about a mile up the road before deciding I was not well enough to complete the trip.  A few months later, upon noticing their rings I asked them when they'd run off and gotten married.  That day was when I began to truly understand the severity of my trauma.

For grade school and collegiate athletes,
trainers are the first line in concussion
diagnosis and recovery.

This was not my first head trauma.  I'd gotten hurt a couple times as a young child and later would play football in both high school and college prior to the many recent advancements regarding concussions and protocols.  I had missing pieces of games and practices during those years.  Headaches, nausea, and who knows what other symptoms.  I also dealt with years of depression but I can't say for certain how much of a role head injuries played in that honestly.  If today's rules were available, I'd probably have been pulled from contact sports.  This is in NO WAY an effort to cast any sort of dispersion on coaches or training staff because honestly, they were operating under incomplete information in good faith.  Basically, they didn't know what they didn't know and it appears that certain highly visible organizations may have been hiding knowledge in an effort to protect brand and bottom line.  Unfortunate but certainly not surprising to anyone with a ounce of understanding regarding human behavior.  Thankfully today their lies and deceit have been uncovered and the next generation it proceeding forward with much more knowledge.  We all owe a debt of gratitude to those who pursued and to those who lost their lives in an effort to bring this information into the public domain.  If it hadn't been for their sacrifices who knows how many more lives would have been effected not because of actual trauma but because of undisclosed information.

But I digress.  My relapse happened sometime around the middle of June 2017.  Up until that point I'd been on what I'd thought was a decent road to recovery.  I'd begun a new position doing overnight security at a school for youth, was coaching as an assistant for the local high school baseball team, writing a blog post per week, attending to all Shawna and Caden's needs and appointments, knocking out home projects while hitting the gym consistently.  I was pretty happy with the way things were progressing.  And then I began to notice some issues.  In retrospect, while they seemed to come on all at once, that wasn't actually the case.  Even though the job was only two overnights per week, it fucked my sleep pattern for the other 5 as well.  On top of that, all the other endeavors I'd taken on now became hindrances to rest and my symptoms intensified quickly ; the biggest being anxiety, specifically the inability to calm down in a timely manner once it set in.  But while anxiety was probably the most noticeable, others such as lack of concentration, slurred speech, increases in emotions, and inability to process information productively also returned.  It was almost like being back at square one, minus the memory loss.  And because I was acutely aware of what was happening, it only served to increase my anxiety.  To know, or perhaps it was just to feel, as though you're not who you are, is a sickening, troublesome feeling that's hard to explain to those who've not  felt it personally.

Because of those who spoke out and sacrificed much, including their own lives,
more information, studies, and protocols are available to aid concussion avoidance
and rehabilitation.

Eventually, after meeting with my OT (Occupational Therapist), talking with the Misses, and doing some research, it was decided that I could no longer work that job.  Between the inherent stress that sometimes arises with such a position and working overnights, it was simply not an option. Anyone who's worked graveyard shifts knows that overnight positions can be extremely taxing on everything from the body and brain to relationships and life goals.  I finally had to admit that I don't have the ability to function and my brain apparently cannot handle the type of stress such positions cause and require.  I would have to formulate a new plan in regards to employment.  It was also during that time a quagmire began regarding a different team that I was an assistant coach of which only exacerbated the situation.  Instead of taking the break I desperately needed I elected to step up into a more pronounced position for the summer than I'd have preferred and unfortunately due to the length of time that was required to sort the situation out, I was over the top exhausted and had fallen nearly back to where I'd begun my PCS journey a year prior.  The addition of a new job would seal the deal and my high school coaching career would come to an end.  While PCS was certainly not the only reasoning behind my decision to resign my positions, it played an undeniable role.  My circumstances had changed and with it, my attitude and expectation were required to as well.

It's not always about stopping, sometimes we must simply choose a different road.

   

Concussion Recovery: Part 1

I've had a considerable amount of this post written for some time; months in-fact.  But what I've found is that traumatic brain injuries/concussions don't work on our timetable, they progress at their own speed.  In-fact, the more one fights against it and attempts to push through the longer the symptoms linger.  These are just a couple of the many lessons I've learned in what's now approaching a year and a half since my accident and injury.  Another is that in order to write this properly, it has to be raw.  Perhaps that was one of the issues prior.  Back when I began I was a school coach and as such, tended to scale back my language and how I wrote things.  I no longer have that concern thanks in part to some of the side effects that have come along with my now and finally diagnosed,
"Moderate Post-Concussion Syndrome"  I put that in quotes because that was what the neurologist diagnosed me with and clearly for this post, it's important to insure that it's given its proper reference.   

The helmet I was wearing sitting atop pieces of the tree involved.

If you're a sports fan it's next to impossible not to know about the advances and acknowledgements surrounding concussions.  It's been all over the internet and stations like ESPN and Fox Sports due to the high amount of professional football players who've been diagnosed postmortem with CTE (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy) as well as the controversy surrounding medical implications that were not acknowledged/possibly covered up.  This has now transitioned to a vast discussion not only about what concussions are, but also how to prevent, diagnose, and treat. As a former coach, I paid attention because I wanted those whom I worked with to be healthy and to limit the chances for injury to the highest degree possible.  For me, understanding concussions is as important as understanding how the goal line defense compares to a 5-2 or 4-4 in short yardage situations.  (If you're not a football fan, I apologize if my analogy doesn't make much sense). Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, beginning last summer I became much more an expert on the subject than I ever could have foreseen.

The rest of the tree.  This was the base so no directly involved
but when the issues no doubt began on my end.

On July 20th of last year I made my way behind the house to do some wood cutting and land clearing. I had my chainsaw, some wedges, and on that particular day, a forestry helmet.  I knew walking in it would be necessary for a dead cherry tree to come down because it was both in the way and presented a clear safety hazard.  I checked the immediate area in search of another tree I could fell in that direction, allowing me to take it down while lessening the danger but unfortunately none were present.  I directed Caden where to safely stand and instructed him to wait for my signal before moving in for cleanup. Helmet on, I looked over the tree, decided where I wanted it to fall and began cutting.  It was pretty well surrounded by other trees so I made the decision to have it fall in a way that it would graze the limbs on a nearby pine and slide down. Unfortunately, dead trees don't always do what you expect and on this day, it made a valiant effort to live up to the "widowmaker" moniker. Rather than hitting the pine branches and sliding off, it hit the branches and came straight back at me. Whether I felled it exactly where I wanted I have no idea but it's safe to assume, not exactly.  (Caden would later tell me it was going exactly where I'd planned but hit another branch that I apparently didn't see) I cannot remember seeing where it hit but I do remember seeing it coming back at me.  I waited as long as possible before moving in what I thought was to be the safe direction but I was again wrong.  My guess is it again hit something else that changed it's direction but I don't know for sure.

 I remember turning enough so when it hit me it was on the back left side of my head and knew immediately I'd been dinged pretty hard but I've been hit in the head hard a lot so the idea of being genuinely hurt didn't enter my initial thoughts.  Funny enough, after a moment or two and letting Caden know I was OK, I picked up my saw again to get back to work when it become apparent I should have Shawna (a former Army medic) check me out.  I walked back to the house, entered, and since she was sleeping, I was forced to wake her (which I actually remember feeling badly about.  HA!)  Startled because I don't generally ask for medical help (there are other stories there), she was awake instantly and running me through some basic concussion testing.  Most were OK but not great and I honestly thought that I'd probably panicked her for nothing when my speech began to slur.  That continued to get worse until we made the decision that seeking medical advice was a good idea.  We made a call and got a ride from family so the Dr could do basically nothing except charge me a fee. Limited cognitive testing, no MRI/cat scan, no advice except to rest. Looking back, I'm pretty pissed by the medical treatment I (didn't) received because I made decisions based on their reactions and advice.  This is not to say that I would have listened to everything but I should have had those options much earlier than I did.  And yes, I should have listened to my wife but when you're in the state I was, you put a certain amount of trust into the hands of your doctors and frankly, I'll never fucking do it again.

From here, some (many according to Shawna) details are fuzzy.  I thought I'd be up and on my feet in a day or two but that turned definitely wasn't the case.  I tried to go outside and work a few days later but that only magnified my symptoms.  I tried and did work as an assistant football coach at the local high school, but I definitely wasn't myself.  I would not come to realize how bad I was until I was sent to see an Occupational Therapist who helped me understand the shape was actually in by running a battery of simple tests that left me feeling fucked up not just following the appointment, for for a day or two after .   However, even then, I honestly didn't take the whole thing nearly as serious as I should have.  I continued to do things against her, my wife's, and pretty much everyone around me's recommendations because I thought for sure I could simply out-tough my injury.

Eventually, a couple months later, I finally began to feel like myself.  I got to watched the Cubs finally win the World Series (I'm a Red Sox fan first, Cubs fan because of so many years of shared and understood misery)  made it through the holidays, enjoyed watching the Pats pull of their epic Super Bowl comeback for the ages, was writing weekly blog posts while working on and beginning to lose some weight, and was even an assistant coach for the local high school baseball team in the spring.  It was also during that time that I found a new job and began working an overnight security gig at a local specialized school.  Everything seemed to be back to normal and going well...Right up until it began not to  And that's when the fucking relapse happened.