Tag Archives: confusion

Southcoast MA HS Senior Soccer Player Describes Her Experiences With Concussion

By Lindsey Santos

santosOn October 26th, 2010, I received my first concussion. During a competitive soccer game against one of our conference teams, I was jumping up for a header, pulled down, and then deliberately kicked in back of the head twice, blocking the third kick with my hand. I stood back up on my feet and knew something was wrong. I tried to “shake it off” as any other athlete is taught to do, but when I started throwing up, I jogged myself off the field. When I told my parents I had a headache later on when we arrived back home, they took me into the emergency room to get checked out. During that visit I was diagnosed with a concussion. Already knowing somewhat about concussions, I figured it would be a “normal” two weeks of headaches. Little did I know that two weeks would turn into three months.

I had headaches every day, and I constantly felt tired and confused. My goals had to be set aside to take care of my health. Not being able to go to school caused me to fall behind my peers in the classroom and on the field. After having my concussion for about four weeks, my doctor recommended I go to see a Sports Medicine Specialist at Boston Children’s Hospital. There, I took my first Impact Test. Even though I did well on it, my symptoms clearly showed that I still had a concussion. I followed up every month with him basically just asking questions about how I felt and keeping track of the symptoms. Finally being cleared back to sports in January of 2011, I returned to play basketball for my high school.

After only being cleared fully for a week and half, I received my second concussion. Someone set a pick on me and just completely elbowed me in the process. I immediately knew that I had a concussion because when I got up, I was dizzy and my vision was blurred. But, I stayed in the game because I didn’t want to accept the fact that it had happened. My coach took me out of the game because I was clearly “not right”. The trainer checked me out and held me from going back into the game. Waking up the next morning with a severe headache forced another trip back up to Boston Children’s Hospital.

It was just the same routine as last time- as if I was never cleared. This time the specialist advised that I come up with some sort of agreement with my teachers for help in the subjects that I wasn’t doing well in. My school principal developed a 504 plan that provided me with accommodations to get extra time to take tests and hand in projects. Some of my teachers weren’t aware of my condition though and some major assignments were counted against me. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my life as if a carpet was ripped out from under me. I started to write and draw to help me through my PCS (Post Concussive Syndrome) recovery. During all of this I was also losing my friends. When they would be out having fun, I was stuck at home with a headache crying myself to sleep. They would get mad when I told them I was going to stay home because I didn’t feel well. They started to believe I was faking this concussion to get away with things, like quarterlies, homework, and get-togethers.

After another three months had passed, I was cleared for contact sports again. I was feeling good and healthy, even with two concussions under my belt. Though things felt altered, I was learning to cope and accept it. I could not let my two concussions defeat me any longer. I had to face these obstacles head on and regain control of the things that mattered most in my life. Even though I am still dealing with headaches three years later and break down every once in awhile, I strive to make a difference. I introduced the Impact Test to my school and even though the athletes hate taking them, I know it can make a difference for the better. I also help other students in school who have a concussion. I guide them, and I’m most importantly a friend to them. I don’t want anyone to go through what I did. Going through these challenges has certainly had a large impact on my life. They have prepared me for other bumps in the road that I will face as I live the rest of my life.

The Fog

By Jay Fraga

oldschool

Jay, 1982

The fog rolls in without notice. Some days, you wake up and it is there. On others, you are lulled into a false sense of security; you forget that it lurks, waiting to cover you in its confusion, emptiness, and uncertainty.

Yesterday was good. Today, I woke up and the fog was there. Simple tasks became monumental ones. Normal thought process became labored. This weekend, I called my wife on her cell phone when I heard her car start up in the driveway and start to pull out. I was upset and asked her why she didn’t say goodbye to any of us. She said, “Jay, I just gave you a kiss a minute and a half ago and said, “See you later”.” Hearing that and not being able to remember even a sliver of the experience sucked every ounce of air out of the room.

You try to take experiences like that and shove them far away someplace. You try to marginalize them and tell yourself that they don’t matter; that they’ll pass. But, they are scary. They make you wonder. Where you once felt strong and unbeatable, those experiences make you feel weak. I will turn 41 in three months and I’m not quite sure what is happening to me.

Ray Bradbury, “The Foghorn”:

“One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, “We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.”