Vol. 2 No. 1
Wires Crossed
Green recounts his experience following his concussion diagnosis
B
efore I got one myself, I dismissed concussions as a slight inconvenience for people who have “weak skulls.” In theory this makes some sense, because genetics do play a role in determining how vulnerable someone is to getting a brain injury. I figured that because I had been hit in the head before and never felt any major consequences that I was not at risk. I never worried about it. Until it happened. I remember jumping off the ground, getting ready to head the ball when a sharp pain erupted from the back of my skull. I was told afterward that I’d been hit by the elbow of an opposing player; he’d jumped up behind me and swung his arms in order to gain momentum. I do not remember a lot of what happened. I remember stumbling around with my hand clamped onto the throbbing. I knew something was wrong. I remember a ringing in my ears. I remember the play around me sounding distant, like I was in a dream. I sat down, and the ref blew the whistle for me to walk off the field. I sat down with Lauren, the Athletic Trainer, and we went through a checklist of symptoms. These checklists of symptoms would become a part of my normal routine for months as I began going to appointment after appointment. What stayed the same was how difficult it is to describe my symptoms. Anyway, I must not have performed well on Lauren’s checklist on game day because she sent me to the hospital. By the time my mom had driven me to the hospital my collective symptoms were greatly affecting my ability to function. The world was so blurry that I felt like I was blind. I looked to the billboards during the drive, and the letters were indecipherable. The sun was blinding, and the radio was turned off because the sound was too bothersome. When we got to the hospital we had to wait a while, but when I was attended to they concluded what was fairly obvious: I had suffered a blow that caused some type of traumatic brain injury. They scanned my brain to make sure there was no brain bleed; thankfully there wasn’t. But the CT scanner made me feel claustrophobic. I freaked out and because I wasn’t still, they had to take another scan. I remember the nurse saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll only charge you for one.” They told me I had a moderate concussion and that I would most likely recover in three days to three months. Hearing this I wondered how much today’s doctors really know about the brain. They sent me home, and I took melatonin to help me sleep. I had to get my sleep cycle on track to prompt the healing process, but even with the medication I struggled to stay still at night. Swallowing pain medication became part of my normal routine. For a while I wasn’t allowed to use screens, but from how poor my vision was I didn’t feel the urge. In the early days, faces were so blurry that I found myself identifying people more by the sound of their voice than by their appearance.
Written by Jasper Green Designed by Iya Abdulkarim 4 - Aureus