My concussion story
I always thought a concussion was something that required a few days of rest in a dark room, then you could resume normal activities. Was I in for a surprise.
My concussion was by far the most challenging experience of my adult life. It’s been one year since the fall that caused it, and I’m still grappling and coming to terms with it. This post is the first in a series about what happened and what I’ve learned. Here’s my concussion story.
I thought it was a regular work day
It was a sunny Seattle morning. I was walking to the bus stop on my way to work, just like any other day. The next moment, I felt my body slamming into the pavement—and with so much force that I skidded uphill. It came out of nowhere. I don’t recall the sensation of falling, just the impact itself followed by relief that I had only hit my chin rather than bashing my whole face into the ground and losing teeth.
I don’t know if I lost consciousness, but when I opened my eyes, I was splayed across the sidewalk. Everything was spinning, and my body was banged up and bleeding from various places. No one was around, and I didn’t know what had happened or what to do. But I had this overwhelming sense that if I stayed there on the ground, I’d wake up in a hospital and that would be the end of my life as I knew it. I struggled to push myself up off the sidewalk and staggered to the bus stop.
When the bus pulled up, it was packed with standing room only. I desperately wanted to ask for a seat but couldn’t figure out what words to use or how to get my mouth to talk. I had lost the ability to speak. I clung to a rail and tried not to bleed on the other passengers.
This stretch of sidewalk may look unassuming, but it’s where my life was turned upside down one year ago. It’s where I fell for an unknown reason and ended up with a traumatic brain injury.
“No, I’m fine”
At work, I felt dazed and on edge. I had a meeting first thing and downplayed my injuries when my coworkers inquired about my scrapes. I didn’t want them to worry about me. It took every ounce of energy and concentration I had to sit upright and look attentive. Then I retreated to my desk, put my head down, and closed my eyes, shaking uncontrollably as I tried to make the room steady itself.
After a few hours, my body recovered from shock and I started to feel better. Even so, one of my coworkers and good friends (compassionately) cornered me and talked me into going to the doctor. She offered to cancel her meetings and go with me, but I declined, not wanting to inconvenience her or for the fall to be a big deal.
I regretted that decision as soon as I stepped outside and tried to order an Uber. Though I had used the app dozens of times, I couldn’t decipher the words and images on the screen. I fumbled with my phone in a total panic because I suddenly could not read. By some miracle, I managed to book my ride.
My primary care physician wasn’t in the office that day, but I was able to get an appointment with a new doctor. As we chatted, I made joke after joke, compulsively deflecting his concern in an uncharacteristic way. I was able to pass my neuro and balance tests (probably due to years of ballet training) and went on my merry way. Back at the office, I told everyone I was fine.
Brain injuries affect your ability to think
This account is what I’ve been able to piece together based on my notes and random memories and what others have told me. I didn’t remember running into my uncle on the bus that morning, or typing complete gibberish in my first meeting, or being diagnosed with a concussion at my doctor’s appointment—all of which I was shocked to discover weeks later.
Because my brain injury affected my decision-making ability and I am stubborn by nature, I continued working and even put in extra hours. I had just been promoted. There were some interesting, fast-moving projects to dig into, and I was eager to prove myself to my new manager. Since I was able to focus for short bursts of time, I reasoned that I couldn’t be that bad—definitely not bad enough to warrant time off. Nevermind that I would then completely unravel after those bursts of competence.
Working with limited brain function is tough
In the days following my concussion, I found myself having significant trouble completing my work. I’m a project manager. It’s my job to orchestrate people, resources, timelines, and deliverables. I’m constantly juggling lots of details and using complex cognitive skills to problem-solve, so my inability to function at a typical level was a problem. For instance, I might know I had a task with a series of five steps, but I couldn’t remember numbers 3 and 4 or what order to do them in. Then I’d remember step 3 but promptly forget 1 and 2.
I created all of these work-arounds to hide my struggles. I kept walking away from my desk and immediately forgetting what I was doing. So I started writing myself little sticky notes: “conference room 258,” “color printer,” “bathroom.” Before meetings, I’d make a detailed check-list of what to cover and draft a script that I could run through. I also spaced out my meetings to give myself time to recover.
Each day my concentration, memory, and cognitive ability deteriorated. I had to start using sticky notes at my desk to help me stay on task. Eventually I had to resort to leaving a finger on the note itself to remind myself of what I was doing.
I knew I wasn’t the same and was having trouble, but my brain couldn’t make the next step that maybe I shouldn’t be working. It took an intervention from three separate loved ones in the same weekend to convince me that I wasn’t actually concealing my troubles and needed help.
Finally, some answers…kind of
Three weeks after the fall, I scheduled an appointment with my regular doctor. I’ve been seeing her for more than 10 years, and she could tell right away that I was not myself. After talking and a series of tests, she referred me to a neurologist and ordered me to stay home until we got the test results.
Her biggest concern was why I fell. I’m young and healthy. She knows I spent decades studying ballet and have exceptional balance and coordination. It just didn’t add up.
Fast-forward through more tests and neurology appointments. My doctors couldn’t determine the cause of the fall—all the tests fortunately came back normal, and they think it was a one-time incident. I was diagnosed with post-concussion syndrome and learned that people like me, with a history of migraines, tend to experience more intense symptoms. My neurologist cautioned that it could take three to six months before I started to feel more like myself and even longer for a full recovery.
Despite what I learned, I tried to keep working. My condition continued to worsen every single day. Finally, six weeks after the fall, I had to take a leave of absence. I felt guilty for leaving my coworkers to pick up the slack. I also had to stop driving, cooking, exercising, and watching TV. Even reading was a struggle. I felt like a total failure for not being stronger and healing faster.
Needless to say, in a single moment, the fall turned my life upside down quite literally and figuratively. The months that followed were the toughest ones I’ve ever experienced. In my next post, I’ll attempt to articulate how.
A BIG thank-you to my sister Mara for being with me every step of my concussion journey, including drafting this post! I appreciate your feedback and help to ensure its accuracy.