Life's Hard...Wear A Helmet

It's the only brain you have

OK…so we’re back. More or less. For the past week, I’ve been dealing with the after-effects of a concussion, which has been decidedly unpleasant. It might not have been so bad if this had been my first. But unfortunately, I have a history of head injuries dating back four decades to my days as a goalkeeper on my college soccer team. It turns out that once you’ve had a few traumatic brain injuries (TBIs), it requires progressively less impact to suffer subsequent ones.

My first seven (that I recall; there may have been more) occurred over six months while playing for an amateur team in St. Paul and my college team during my final season. It was back when you “got your bell rung.” The usual script went like this: I’d dive for a loose ball, take someone’s knee in the back of my head, and wake up on the sideline with a headache. Then I’d be back at it the next day as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Yeah, I was 21 and bulletproof…or so I believed. I knew nothing of concussions or TBIs. Neither did the school’s training or medical staff. I would’ve been treated much differently if my injuries had happened today. I certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to put myself in a position where I would’ve suffered seven concussions in six months. And those are the ones I can recall; there may have been a couple more. I honestly can’t remember. At this point, it hardly matters.

I’ve dealt with depression, ADD, and migraines as an adult. I’ve always wondered if those are discrete issues or if they’re connected to my TBIs. There’s no way to know, but I believe those issues were always there, and the TBIs have acted as force multipliers. They took those challenges and made them that much worse. That’s my non-medical opinion from being the one living in my head.

Saturday night, I suffered a hard fall, landing on my shoulder on concrete. I didn’t hit my head, and once I took inventory and realized everything was intact, I was more embarrassed than anything, but there must have been some whiplash involved in the impact. On the way home, I noticed that freeway lights and the headlamps of oncoming cars' were much brighter than usual. Light sensitivity is one of the symptoms of a concussion. In retrospect, I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I didn’t realize what was happening.

I woke up Sunday morning with a dull headache but otherwise felt OK. My left shoulder was a bit sore, but that was what I landed on, so I figured that made sense and quickly forgot about it and went about my day.

Monday morning, I awakened to nausea, dizziness, and a dull throbbing in the front of my head. Then I remembered that Erin had suffered a hard fall earlier this year and suffered a concussion. Her symptoms didn’t become apparent until 36 hours after her fall. I did the math, and realized it was about 36 hours past my own fall.

It was a challenge for me to put it all together, because I wasn’t my usual incandescently brilliant self. In fact, I was feeling as if my IQ was hovering somewhere in the high double digits. Loud sounds like two metal blow clanging together sounded like a bomb detonating. Computer screens glowed with the ferocity of a nuclear blast. And my attention span, never stellar under the best of circumstances, resembled that of a toddler. I couldn’t process anything I read, and anything I tried to write might as well have been in Cyrillic, of which I know just enough to be dangerous.

It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to deal with a TBI. I think my last one was after a minor auto accident in Houston in 2004. The problem is that each one takes a bit longer to recover from, and it scares me. I don’t feel anything like myself. I’ve not experienced bouts of paranoia, murderous rage, or anything along those lines. But there are enough anecdotal tales out there to frighten me.

There are many stories of former NFL players who’ve suffered repeated TBIs and have gone on to lose their minds.

Mike Webster. Dave Duerson. Junior Seau. Jim Tyrer, a former All-Pro tackle for the Kansas City Chiefs, shot his wife and himself in 1980. It’s a long list, and the NFL is finally beginning to understand the toll TBIs are taking on some players.

A new term, Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), has been introduced into our modern lexicon. CTE is a horrible condition currently only diagnosable post-mortem. However, as defined by the Concussion Legacy Foundation, CTE does have symptoms, and current scientific understanding is constantly improving.

According to the Boston University CTE Center, Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) is a degenerative brain disease found in athletes, military veterans, and others with a history of repetitive brain trauma. Most of what we have learned about CTE has come from the research of Dr. Ann McKee, director of the VA-BU-CLF Brain Bank. In CTE, a protein called tau misfolds and malfunctions, causes other proteins to misfold, and sets off a chain reaction where this malfunctioning tau slowly spreads throughout the brain, killing brain cells. CTE has been seen in people as young as 17, but symptoms do not generally begin appearing until years after the onset of head impacts.

Of course, this isn’t to say that I have CTE or that I’m concerned about CTE. Even if that was the case, there’s nothing that I can do about it now. Once brain cells die, there’s no getting them back. I always joke that if I’m this smart now, think what I’d be like without all the TBIs.

I try to make light of my TBIs because I don’t know what the future holds, and I can’t undo whatever damage has already been done. I avoid contact sports now, which in my early 60s is sensible under any circumstance. But, as I experienced last weekend, accidents can occur no matter how careful you are. Shit happens, and all I can do is play the hand I’m dealt.

So, every spring, when I get an email from my college’s soccer coach asking me to play in the Alumni soccer game, I politely decline for two reasons. First, no one wants to see a 60+-year-old goalkeeper trying to recapture his misspent youth. Second, I’m trying hard to preserve what brain cells I have left. It seems like the smart move.

For now, I’m going to take care of myself and try to get rid of this damned headache. It’s been a week now and the headache, dizziness, lack of mental clarity are still hanging around. Of course, some might say the lack of mental clarity is my normal state, so perhaps things aren’t as bad as I think.

So, it looks as if my Ph.D. dissertation on post-Hegelian sexual mores and dessert recipes will have to wait a few more days. No great loss.