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.