My life feels like a race. But, it doesn’t feel like the kind of race that I’m used to being in.
Everything about it seems heightened, urgent, and rushed. I’m in a race to regain the old me. I’m in a race to spend as much time with my family as I possibly can. I’m in a race to educate others about concussions, so that they don’t have to experience what so many of us have experienced as a result.
I’m haunted by the prospect that while intense physical therapy seems to be bringing my visual and vestibular symptoms to a livable (not normal; just, livable) state, that there is still something happening inside my head that is degenerative in nature. I’m a prisoner to my own thoughts, and they are constant. I have always been very analytical in nature and highly sensitive to noticing nuances; differences in every aspect of my experience, whether in terms of subtle sounds that my car was making, a change in weather, or the shift in a person’s body language. That feature has always been my internal alarm mechanism, and it has never done me wrong when it came to illuminating issues. But now, I find that I use it to discern changes in my cognition, and to take notes of it. I can’t help but to itemize those things and extend them out to their logical conclusion in a mental equation.
Our intellect is our lowest common denominator. It’s all that we have. The prospect of it slowly going away is frightening. Each instance of cognitive fog: forgetting words, not knowing why you’re in a certain place, seeing friends in public and not recognizing their face until just after it’s clear to them that something is amiss is terrifying. Seeing the look on my Wife’s face when she sees me struggling to remember something that I wanted to tell her is crushing. And, I think that it all adds up to something. Or, at least, that’s my gut instinct.
For a person whose gut has always served them well, this is a scary road to walk on.
Fall sports are just starting up again. Already, my inbox is on fire from people who’ve just been diagnosed with a concussion or the parents of kids with one. And, as a result, I guess that I have gotten what I’ve asked for: an opportunity to warn others about the pitfalls of not taking concussion seriously as well as not understanding how to deal with the aftermath. Understanding those things while I was racking up concussions could have made an incredible difference for me and I can’t even to begin to tell you about what the regret of putting yourself and your family in a situation like this is like. If you are reading this, I am dedicated, however, to you never finding out what it’s like.
I don’t know where this goes. But, I hope people will listen.
The Knockout Project