Life interrupted. That's how I've felt over the past six months. Last November I suffered a serious concussion playing basketball. The referee didn't even call a foul. Where's the justice? The body blow to my head sloshed my brain enough to make it near impossible for me to function on a cognitive level. It was like someone had kicked up all the dirty scum from the bottom of the pond and it sort of hung around for months, clearing up just enough every once in a while for me to think I was getting back to normal.
Man down.
Yes, that's how it was. Locked in the tower of my home for 2 weeks before I could even handle something as basic as a quiet and brief conversation. Phone, TV, my children . . . it was all more than I could handle. Everything made me sick. It was almost three months before I even dared venture back to the office for work. My brain got saturated so fast, that I couldn't handle anything that required serious thought for more than a few minutes at a time.
Don't make me cry.
Okay, I finally get it. Women don't have to have a reason to cry. Cry all you want. I did. The first four months of my recovery were filled with random moments of pure emotion that spilled out my eyes, sometimes for no reason at all. I was starting to wonder if someone had slipped me a heavy dose of estrogen during one of my hospital visits. Thankfully, order seems to have been restored in that department.
Will I ever be normal again?
Who knows. What's normal? I'm working 40 hours a week now and have been for two months, but I'm only in the office 3-4 days a week. I'm trying to bump that up to 4-5 days a week. I still get dizzy every day and nausea seems to be my new best friend. I've been wearing sea band bracelets, but I have no idea if they're really helping. I've also been wearing a Halter monitor for two weeks to figure out why my heart's skipping beats every time my pulse goes up--as in walk-up-a-flight-of-stairs up. My energy/strength levels have only recovered to about 70-80%, sometimes a little less depending on the day. And the brain drains are still happening. Doesn't that sound like fun? It's a weird way to describe it, but that's what it feels like when it happens: like my brain is draining out the back of my head. When that happens, I get sick pretty fast. I was in the ER three times two weeks ago when it first started happening. The whole unknown thing can be kind of scary. All tests revealed nothing. Hey, I guess I'm normal.
It's all in my head.
Yes, that is what I'm coming to believe. I'm pretty sure I've been having some serious anxiety attacks--classic post concussion syndrome stuff.The muddy waters are still settling. I think I'm still cognitively bumping into logs or rocks as I swim through the foggy haze of my brain. The good news is that most of my life activities have returned to a new normal. I'm working. I'm writing. I'm throwing ball with my boys. I even started a major remodeling job on my home. I know, probably not the smartest thing, but there's no going back on that one--not after sawing through two walls and ripping out two door frames.
Dusting off the cobwebs
So alas, here we are again, not that anyone is reading because I've been gone for months. Hey, I know, you can only wait around so long. But I'm back. And I've resumed the re-write of my novel, The Lackawanna Prophecies--Howie and The Prince of Greed. I'm working on chapter 18 with about ten more chapters to go. I was supposed to be done in January. Perhaps I will be--next January. I'm just grateful to be writing. I hope you are too.
