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