On November 13, 2011, I went to cheer practice like it was any other Sunday. We were practicing stunting in our field house. My stunt group got our flyer up to a full extension, which is when two bases each hold one of the flyer’s feet at their chest level with a back spot holding her ankles. From this position, we raise the flyer above our head and hold her with arms fully extended. (I am a back spot, and my job is to ensure the safety of the flyer and stabilize her ankles.) All we had to do was dismount her. This is where things went wrong for me. I remember us counting, and I remember going through the motions like we would to pop her up and my preparing to catch her. The next thing I remember was her entire body landing on the front of my head, everything starting to turn black, feeling like I was falling backwards, closing my eyes and a sharp pain radiating the back of my head, matching the pain in the front.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up to a picture of the Eiffel tower that I know is hung in my bedroom at home. I lost about a 12-15 hour time span of my life. To this day, I still remember nothing. The only information I have is what I can get from other people. My friend called my parents, who had just left from dropping off my uniform, and had them come back and get me. My mom tells me that I was acting normally. I was speaking normally, making jokes and playing with her new iPhone. She says that I was complaining that my head was killing me, that I was nauseous, tired and my teeth hurt.
The next morning when I came downstairs and my first words were “Mommy, how did I get home?” she knew something was wrong and that I needed to see my primary care doctor. They checked my symptoms and ordered a CATscan to make sure there wasn’t any bleeding. When it came back negative, I was diagnosed with a severe concussion. Since it was about a week until Thanksgiving break, I was advised not to return to college until after break. I was told I could take ibuprofen for pain and to rest and relax often.
When I went back, I was a walking zombie. I could barely do anything but sleep. I would go to class and be unable to take notes because I couldn’t follow along. I couldn’t keep up with conversations, couldn’t read, couldn’t look at my computer or my phone without my head radiating with pain. I couldn’t be around light or loud noises. By the fourth day back, I knew I couldn’t be at school. I had to incomplete my classes, with the intention of finishing them over break, and I packed up my belongings and headed back home. Since I was still having such severe symptoms, my primary care doctor set me up with my first neurologist. I told him about all the pain I was having, my problems doing work, my inability to feel rested even though I would sleep over 10 hours a day and nap whenever I could. I was immediately put on Doxepin, a depression drug used to treat migraines to take at night. At a check-up 3 weeks in on the medication, the neurologist informed me that I had gained 12 pounds, a horrible side effect of the medication, which according to him could have been avoided. I had worked for 2 years to lose almost 50 at this time, so hearing that led into a fit of tears in my dad’s arms in the doctor’s office. The neurologist was quite rude about my being upset, had some words about me being heavy to begin with, (which I won’t even get into), and set me on a diet of which I couldn’t eat anything white because I would retain fat, salt and water, to help deter this weight gain side effect of the medication. I left there feeling like a whale but sucked it up because I honestly just wanted my head to get better. For a while the Doxepin helped take away a majority of the pain, but I always felt like my brain was in a bubble or a cloud. I finished my work and returned to school at the end of winter break. I had registered for 5 classes for the spring semester—what is considered overloading at my college—and didn’t drop any. I kept telling myself that I was feeling better, that I wasn’t a quitter and that I could do this.
By mid-February, my medication was no longer working. I was going days with migraines so bad I could barely get out bed, I wasn’t sleeping well when I slept, and my brain still felt like it was in a bubble. I was switched to Topiramate, the generic form of Topimax, an anti-seizure medication that is used to treat migraines. The medication, once again, only helped with the pain, but I was unable to do my work. The semester was hard, to say the least. I barely felt rested, I was an emotional wreck and I was constantly sick. I felt like I was running my body into the ground. Things took a turn for the worse around mid-April when I went days barely being able to see, mainly far away. I wear either contacts or glasses because I am nearsighted and while wearing both I couldn’t see. My vision was dark in my peripherals and blurry with sparkles everywhere else. I could still see pretty well up close, so I called my neurologist, who took me off my medication and ordered me to immediately see an optometrist, because the medication could have damaged my eyes. My mom came and got me, and we went to see my eye doctor pronto. She said stress may have retriggered my concussion, and with my high stress level I was getting constant ocular migraines, a condition characterized by visual disturbances with or without a headache. It may produce a variety of visual symptoms, including flashes of light, zig-zag or jagged lines and an enlarging blind spot. I stayed home Friday through Sunday, rested and returned to school Monday, back on the Topimax. Being away from my work and not thinking about everything I needed to get done dropped my stress level and helped get rid of the ocular migraine. I finished out the semester unhappy with my grades, but sucking it up again because I thought I was getting better and could make it up.
In May, I changed neurologists. I didn’t feel that my old one was listening to what was wrong, and we just didn’t mesh. The new one added amitryptalyne, an antidepressant used to treat migraines, to the mixture to help me sleep. I wanted my brain to heal, so instead of getting an internship or a job like I would have over the summer, I just relaxed at home with family and friends. I tried to read more and catch up on the life I felt was speeding by me. It was hard to see all of my friends and my boyfriend at the time having summers of opportunity that I wanted. I felt like many of them were getting frustrated with me having bad days when we had plans. I didn’t do many activities that summer because I feared how my head would react. I just wanted myself to get better, and I thought the best way to do that was to be as introverted as I could. The beginning of August, my new doctor lowered my Topiramate dosage because I seemed to be doing better, and I was complaining of my mood shifting. By mood shift, I mean I turned into such a witch with a different letter that my family didn’t want to speak to me for two weeks. I was horribly grouchy. I didn’t initiate conversations. Whenever someone said something I didn’t like, I would snap, and the worst part was I wouldn’t realize I did it until later, and by then I didn’t care. Looking back, I think I was just frustrated that I wasn’t back to who I was and kept wondering, “Why did this happen to me?”
My school worked with my medical condition and allowed me to take three classes instead of four. I was still considered a full-time student, and because I took five in the spring, it would even out in the long run. The lower dosage in medication became a nightmare four to five weeks in. I was getting out-of-control migraines and was lucky if I could leave my dorm room, let alone do my work. My neurologist office informed me that my doctor, the one I switched to in May, had gone on maternity leave, and that the other doctor in the office was taking over her patients. I left that doctor upwards of eight messages before I got a phone call back. His conclusion was to increase the medication. The following week, the migraine I got lasted for four days, and I thought my brain was actually going to explode: I couldn’t be around any light or noise. Normal conversation was too loud for me. My mom came and got me and took me to the emergency room at Children’s Hospital, where they gave me an IV of reglan, fluids, motrin and benadryl (a migraine cocktail). It finally got the migraine to go away. I remember hugging the nurse, I was so thankful. I ended up in emergency rooms a total of five times last semester with migraines that would not subside. I couldn’t tell you how many classes I missed because of migraines, how many classes I couldn’t follow the entire lecture, or how many classes I went wearing my Jackie-O’s to avoid the paparazzi…I mean fluorescent lighting. My last emergency room trip was the weekend before finals week. It was so bad the migraine cocktail didn’t work, and they had to pump IV steroids in me to get it to subside, as well as send me home on a weeks worth of Prednisone, a steroid which prevents the release of substances in the body that causes inflammation. I had to incomplete last semester’s classes, of which I am finishing now.
I saw a different neurologist–this would be my third–this time at Children’s right before Christmas. He upped the Amitryptaline to help the fact that I still wasn’t sleeping, but that was it. Over winter break my head was okay. I still got migraines, still couldn’t sleep, and still felt like my brain was in a bubble. In January, I saw a sports concussion specialist who tallied the symptoms I had and said I was still at a severe concussion level, 15 months later. I knew I was at a bad level, but I didn’t realize its extent. He was going to suggest taking a semester off from school but he knew that I wouldn’t go for it and that it couldn’t guarantee I would get better. He suggested I again take three classes, limit workouts, manage my stress as much as I could through time management etc., and understand that I need to give my brain time and I couldn’t rush it.
This semester, I am again taking three classes. My school has been amazing with working with me and my medical needs. I recently saw another neurologist—yes, I am now up to four—who is changing my medication completely. He understands me when I tell him my brain feels like it’s in a bubble. He wants me to try to limit my stress, go back to my regular workout routine and call him whenever have a question or problem. Although there have been some hiccups this semester, bad reactions to medication increases, a few migraines and an allergic reaction, I hope to finish out the semester strong with no trips to the emergency room. I still have trouble following lectures and keeping up with reading, but I am trying my best, and that’s all I can do. I may have to take a class over the summer to guarantee I’ll have the appropriate amount of credits, but I WILL be graduating in 2014 with a double major in International Relations and Russian studies.
What I went through and what I am going through took a toll on my relationships. Whenever you experience something traumatic, it shows you who your friends really are. There are those who will stick by you no matter what is going on, try to understand your situation and try to help you through it the best they can. On the other hand, there are those who will be skeptical: They will think you are being over-dramatic and could honestly care less what is going on with you. My best friends are all amazing. I owe them all for the constant hugs, chocolate, crying sessions and occasional trips to the ER with me. My family has been my rock, and without them and their constant jokes, I really think I would have let this get the better of me. I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mom, who deals directly with my constant ranting phone calls when the littlest thing doesn’t go right.
Every time I retell this story, I cry. I know that I went through this, and I continue to go through this, for a reason, and it can only make me stronger. There are those people with concussions that bounce right back within six months or a year. I unfortunately, like many others, was not one of them. I hope people will realize how serious concussions are. This situation has taught me to just let go, because I have always been a perfectionist. I’ve had to learn to adjust and deal with what I can. I can’t do everything at once. Time management is key, and planners have become my life. Everything happens for a reason—what this reason is I have yet to find out, but when I know I’m hoping the past year and a half of my life makes sense. If you are wondering if I quit cheering, I did not. I am the co-captain of my cheerleading team this year and will be my senior year as well. We did not stunt this year because I wanted to make sure it was safe. We had the proper regulations, mats and training before we did so. The team started from scratch this year, and they all understood my reservations. I owe them a lot for being patient, and I can’t wait to see what my last year with this team holds!