In the span of two weeks, I experienced nearly constant pain, confusion, and frustration. I felt lost and the people I turned to for answers, did not seem to care much or have time to explain anything to me.  Returning to work, I suffered from headaches while I was walking around, talking to people, and answering emails on the computer. As a main part of my role, I continued facilitating one to three hour presentations, where I am teaching and answering questions most of the time. The light from the projector had the intensity of a laser to me.  Thinking creatively, critically, or simply processing new information, was a struggle, and my mind worked slow to respond. After two days of work, the headaches came, and did not leave.  The stabbing and pinching on the top of my skull and between my eyebrows was now a part of my life.

On day four of work, I returned to the clinic to get my stitches removed. The doctor in charge today, as expected, was different than the one I saw five days prior. As soon as she finished taking out the stitches, I expressed my deep concern. “I have been getting headaches every single day, almost constantly. Is that normal?”

“You have a concussion,” she stated matter of factly. Quickly she left and returned with a pamphlet.

Placing the pamphlet in my hand, she continued to speed along in her statements and body movements, “limit your screen time.”

Well I have heard this one before! I am limiting my screen time.

“What does that mean exactly?” I ask with a feeling of helplessness. “I work on a computer. The last doctor said I could work, but limit my screen time.”

“Take breaks every 15 minutes or so,” she responded as if that is normal, would be productive, and it would not affect my job at all.

“Okay. Thank you.” I did not know what else to say or do. I was still a bit flabbergasted. I have a concussion. Okay. What does that mean?

More days rolled by. I took a long weekend to try to rest and kick the headaches, to no avail. My pain tolerance began to diminish and I attempted more and more to find someone to cover for me on the hour to three hour long classes I facilitated. Unfortunately, schedules still did not accommodate this request, and I continued to go in, with my beanie covering half my face, and cracking jokes at myself at the beginning to get any questions out of the way.

The pamphlet I was giving sat on my coffee table. My fingers flipped through it more than once, trying to decipher what it was telling me. Somewhere in here there must be more direction as to what I should and can do. After one more weekend of attempting to sleep and rest, I knew I simply could not take it any longer. I needed to go see someone else. A specialist? I do not know. I need a professional’s attention to answer my questions and explain to me what the hell is going on.  Grabbing the pamphlet one more time, this time I notice a list of doctors. When I came across her name I had no idea how many times over the next two months I was going to be seeing this person, and moreover, how much control her words would have over my life.

“You have to stop working. You cannot work. You have to stop right away. No more,” Dr. Mitchells stated matter of factly, quickly after a few examinations.

“Oh. Oh, wow. None of the other doctors have said anything remotely similar to this. I am not shocked because I want to fight against your diagnosis. It actually makes sense. I have had non-stop headaches. I have been trying to get out of work because it is so difficult and painful, but no doctor has told me I needed to stop. Wow. I am so glad I came here.”

I had a lot weighing on me that I needed to let out. Her words were shocking because it was so sudden and unexpected, but also a huge relief. One week off of work will be nice. Then I can just fully heal and get back to functioning well at work, and snowboarding.

“Come back in two weeks. Until then, no work. No TV. Limit time on your phone. No reading books. No physical activity of any sort. Five minute walks at most. Limit social interaction – talking, thinking etc. No computer at all. If you do use your phone, lower the brightness. No audio books. Limit driving. Do not drive at night.”

Taking all of this in, I realized the list of what I can do was getting shorter and shorter by the moment. Fortunately, I do not watch TV much, but without physical activity, books, movies or socializing, two weeks of no work sounded a bit empty.

“Most important – absolutely no snowboarding. You could die.”

Her words echoed in my skull. I could die? What? That is horrifying. Did she really just say that?

“I could die?” I asked. “Can you explain?”

Dr. Mitchells provided me the details on Second Impact Syndrome. Basically, since my brain is already injured, and is swirling around in fluid, if my brain gets injured again, prior to it fully healing, I could die, instantly. It has happened to numerous athletes before, sometimes due to stubbornness, and other times due to lack of education from a doctor.

Holy shit. This is serious. I already knew that I could have died from the first impact if I was not wearing a helmet. But even now, I am still at risk of dying.

Commence extreme and constant anxiety. Walking down stairs covered in ice, driving in my truck, nearly every single activity outside of laying down or sitting and not moving, I thought I could hit my head again and die instantly.

“Okay. Wow. Neither of the doctors told me not to snowboard. Maybe the second one did. If I had gone out I could have easily died. That is frightening,” I explained, trying to share with her the lack of proper education and communication coming from the clinic.

“Yes, it has been a major problem in the area. Doctors tend to focus on the visible, physical injuries that athletes sustain from collisions. A broken knee is much more obvious to treat. A broken brain, not so much. They focus on the body part that can be repaired with casts, surgery and physical therapy.”

“Wow. That is not good. How can such a serious injury be so ignored? I had no idea.”

Continuing to ponder this for a moment, I shook out of it as to bring myself back and get some questions answered.

“Okay, so what can I do over the next two weeks?”

“Sleep. Drink fluids. No alcohol. Eat healthy. Anything where you are not using your brain and are not staring at a screen or small words.”

“Okay,” I responded hesitantly, completely unsatisfied with the answer. Anything where I am not using my brain. Okay.

After my partner treated me to some post doctor visit Thai food, he drove us back home, into the mountains. I called my manager upon the return, and he gave his full support. Not quite believing him, knowing that there is not a backup for my role, and that my counterparts were swamped with work, I followed with an, “are you sure? I mean I do not have a choice here, but I feel I am leaving you guys hanging in a very tricky spot”

“We will figured it out. I’ve got it covered. You do not worry about a thing. You need to rest and not work. Do not worry about us at all. We have it all taken care of,” he attempted to reassure me.

I believed him. I new he’d figure it out, and no matter what, it is not the end of the world. As people say, “no one will die if you do not show up to work,” in many jobs. However, my own health is at risk if I do show up, so clearly, one is more important than the other.

Thus, my two weeks of concussion recovery finally commenced, after two weeks of working post concussion. Sitting on my grey L-shape couch from Ashley’s Furniture, I contemplated the sentence, “you can do anything where you are not using your brain.”