1 - Origin Story

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When I tell people I have a brain injury, or that I have had a number of concussions (I think the count is up to 4 or 5…depending on how you count them), I often get asked how it happened.  Now, I can’t speak for the whole brain injury community, but for me, this question is kind of a social faux-pas.  It reminds me of the first episode of Orange is the New Black.  The protagonist enters her first jail cell for the first time.  She is awkwardly trying to greet her cell mates.  She gets asked what she did to get put in prison.  She replied "Aren't you not supposed to ask that question?  I read that you're not supposed to ask that"… Well, the brain injury can be likened to prison.  It isolates me.  It keeps me from the outside world.  It keeps me confined to only a few rooms.  I can’t really watch TV and I can’t do anything or go anywhere I please at anytime.  I am only allowed limited visits or phone calls with people from the outside world, and eventually, the visits dwindle.  People get lost in the system.  Rehab services could use some work.  Mood and morale decreases and all you want is to GET OUT.  And when you do get out, you may feel like you no longer belong in the world you once did.  You may feel judged.

And judged is something I do feel.  None of my concussions happened doing anything heroic.  I was not a victim to any unjust circumstances.  All of my concussions were follies of my day-to-day clumsiness; my lack of paying exquisite attention; my inability to slow down.  I feel like this elicits a less compassionate response from people.  When we hear that a person is injured because of an activity they chose to do, it’s my opinion that we’re more likely to think “well, they shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place,” instead of “it doesn’t matter how it happened, they don’t deserve this.”

Indeed, my first concussion in 2011 happened while rock climbing.  At that point in my life, I had been climbing for about 12 years.  There is inherent risk in any sport, and this is very true for rock climbing.  Most injuries in rock climbing though are overuse injuries on joints, tendons and muscles from repeating the same intense movements over and over again.  Less frequent, though more severe, are injuries from big falls.  I got my first concussion…standing up into a rock… UGH.  SO EMBARRASSING.  It honestly could have happened anywhere.  It seems standing up into things is how a number of average every day head injuries happen.  I mean, take a look at your kitchen or bathroom right now…how many cupboards are left open and how often?  What about your car - is it a hatchback?  Do you wait for that hatch, or even the trunk lid to be securely and fully open before loading in your groceries?  When you drop something on the floor under a counter, desk or hand dryer in a public bathroom, do you pay attention and look where you’re moving when you stand back up?  Because those are typical everyday behaviours and are also head injuries that do happen. Yet, when I told people in 2011 that my injury happened during rock climbing, a lot of people thought it made sense.  And when I returned to rock climbing after my one-year recovery, a few people judged that decision saying things like “I don’t know why you’d return to that. It’s so dangerous.”  I always felt I had to defend my sport, my passion and myself.  Because here is a fact: rock climbing is actually a low risk head injury sport, especially when compared to soccer, hockey, and rugby.  I personally feel safer recreationally rock climbing than I do cycling or skating.

Since then, I have hit my head on the low door frame of the storage space in my then basement apartment, prolonging my concussion recovery in 2011 from one week to one year.  I have slipped on ice in the spring and felt the whiplash as my head hit the pavement.  I have also swam into the wall of an indoor pool…I misjudged the distance, lol.  But what about my most recent concussion?  It happened in 2015 and was even more embarrassing than the above.  I don’t mind sharing, if you don’t mind listening with compassion.  I know everyone loves a good origin story, so here is my most recent, written in an almost fairy tale format, discovering the dangers of laundry…

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There once was a 30-something year old woman named Krystal.  Krystal had a 30-something year old dog (30-something in dog years, that is) named Bob.

Krystal and Bob liked to be social and active.  Krystal liked meeting new people, taking dance and acting classes, crafting and having potlucks with friends.  Bob liked greeting all dogs and owners at the dog park, taking dog sport classes and eating just about anything he could get his jowls over.

Krystal arranged puppy playdates for Bob and brought Bob with her wherever she could.  Bob had flown to Krystal’s home town of Winnipeg twice to visit family.  Bob had also visited Montreal, and gone camping, hiking and climbing with Krystal in Quebec, New York State and New Hampshire.

Krystal saw herself as a typical 30-something of her generation.  She was a professional, passionate about her job, though she worked more than full time hours to her detriment. She questioned what she wanted to do with her life.  She was single, feeling old while most of her other friends were achieving the typical milestones of adulthood.  She sometimes struggled to feel truly connected in all her relationships.  She didn’t know what happiness truly was to her.

Bob was content to sniff butts (dog or human), listen to commands for treats, play at the park, lick some faces (dog or human) and snuggle on the couch after a good meal and a good poop.

Through all the good times, Krystal and Bob had also been through some rough times.  Heartbreak, illness, loneliness, worthiness…typical 30-something stuff, Krystal thought.  Bob supported Krystal the best he could through these times.

After a cold winter in 2015, the dawn of spring shone some light and Krystal and Bob felt energized.  Krystal cut back on work.  Krystal and Bob spent more time outside exploring.  There were many fun potlucks with friends…

Until one Saturday, late after a long day, Krystal was rushing (in typical 30-something “fomo” fashion) to get some chores done.  While doing laundry, transferring loads from the bottom washer to the top dryer of the stacked units, she hit her head standing up into the not-all-the-way-open dryer door.  She knew it, in that moment, having four years previous spent one full year lost and battling to recover, that this was another concussion.

This is the beginning of the story: Super Heroes Krystal and Bob vs the Post Concussion Brain Battle.

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Stay tuned to this blog for more 😊

Cheers to brain health,

💜 Krystal