4 ms·

There seems to be a lot of comments about the dangers and how many people will not play nor let their friends and family play football again. I thought I should

There seems to be a lot of comments about the dangers and how many people will not play nor let their friends and family play football again. I thought I should chime in. I have had 3 major concussions in my lifetime where I blacked-out for some period of time, maybe, not counting the other ones where I did not lose consciousness or notice the hits as badly. I still love those contact sports but have quit them too. I'll detail some of the issues that I had with concussions and what it felt like to have them (names and places have been changed to protect the guilty/innocent). I only played rugby in college and wrestled in HS, so my experiences with concussions are not football related. However, I think you should read this article first before going on into the wall of text below as that writer is much better than I am: http://www.gq.com/story/the-concussion-diaries-high-school-football-cte http://www.gq.com/story/the-concussion-diaries-high-school-f... So, I guess that’s what happened to me too. Zac’s issues with body image, his sleeping problems, the drug addictions and the dependency. These are the reasons that I don’t ever mess with stuff. Because I know that I will end up like Zac, and that’ll just make it all so much worse. It all fits for me. Yeah, the good little scientist in me says that there can be a million and one reasons why that is all crap, genetics, development, those little flies to be batted about in your mind, annoying you. That self-doubt of a mosquito. But yeah, it all fits. Occams razor and all that jazz.

Balgair 9y ago
One was in high school when a wrestling-mate punched me in the back of the head with his elbow while I was down. We were doing drills in the Mulituse room, the one next to the band rooms, on the mats. I was wearing an ungodly amount of clothes to cut weight. It was near the end of practice. I was sprawled out on the mat and my partner's job was to not let me up and make a 1 point escape. I just sat there until I could see a move out, as he was a much better wrestler than I was. He tried everything including putting his finger up my butt, a favorite move of his that I had expected I would have to endure, to get me to move at all so he could get a move to make. Near the end of the drill session, and I didn’t anticipate this, he just got on top of me and slammed his elbow into the back of my head, as he was so frustrated, and just said ‘Fuck you /u/Balgair!’. Thing is about these concussions, you remember weird things, and not all of it. I usually remembered the first few seconds to minutes afterwards, but then blanks fill it all out, like a floater in your eye, but in your mind. Not static, just, Nothing, and not even emotions too, just calmness at the nothingness. I hope that is what death is like, that it is calm too. So I remembered the first few seconds after the hit. I now know that it was a concussion, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact the only sensation I remember is a chill shiver all the way from my crown of my head down into my lower back, taking about 3 seconds to complete. I don’t remember if I could hear or see or talk in those seconds. Just that shiver of warmth and chill all at once. Then I remember that we were doing spawrl drills, all of us boys in all those sweat pants and sweaters. I remember in that sodium orange arc-lamp lighting of the room, "John" yelling at us to do thing, as he was the student-leader that day. I remember trying to do the drills, and then not being able to. I remember that John was yelling at us all and then yelling at me to do it. And I remember the shame that I felt when John made us do more because I wasn’t doing them up to John's standards. I think we had to do another 1/3rd more. Then it all just goes blank. I think I have written about this before, but memory is hard. I’ll tell it again though, as another witnessing is probably good too as I don’t think that all the stories will match up 100%. The other time was actually with John too. I think we both got concussions real bad that day. John is a goofy foot. So, when we were doing pipe drills, he was falling the other way from most of the people next to him, like me. A pipe drill is when the other guy has your leg between his legs and has his arms wrapped around your thigh. Then that guys tries to take you down to the mat and pin you. So, typically, you use leverage and then try to swing the guy you are holding onto down. You go to the same side usually, as the foot you are holding, so if you hold the right leg, you then will swing the guy towards that side, so he falls on his back to the right side. Now, John being a lefty, had the opposite led being held, and that meant that he fell to the left and not the right like everyone else. That meant he fell into me. Specifically on this particular drill, his head fell into my head. I only remember the sound that it made, like a pulse of lightening. Just a really low, loud, crack. Maybe like a sheet of metal being thrown into a flat-bed. Then it’s just vignettes, or gifs, loops in my memory that I, to this day, just space out inside of. The chronology is shaky now, again, just different, files?, in my mind that are near that time period. You can put them in whatever order you want. I remember having my head in my hand, face down, I don’t know if I was sitting or standing, I was the one that was screaming, but I wasn’t telling myself to scream. I was listening to my voice scream, I wasn’t in control of myself, maybe my amygdala was, who knows. I don’t remember any sights or feelings outside of my hands and face and my hearing. Just numb otherwise. I remember sitting in the littler back room, I was back on the wall and legs bent upwards. I remember my fingers tingling really bad, like if you let them fall asleep on you for a hour. I remember spots in my vision, all purple and yellow, blue and brown, like a tye-dye shirt. Again, I felt like I was not me, like I was just watching a movie in theater of my eyes and my hands were these gloves of tingle sensations over whomever was remembering these things. I remember telling Coach about all this, like I wasn’t me, and he said ‘Get over it.’ It was so mean, so hateful, but I was numb and not talking, someone else was being talked to and doing the talking. I remember, really vaguely, the other coaches whispering, but I had no sight then. I knew they were talking about me and John, but I’ll never know what they said. I remember telling Coach I wanted to go to the nurse, who was literally the next door down from us, again, no vision in this memory. I remember Coach relenting and sounding exasperated, and I remember tasting vomit but not knowing if it was me or what had happened or why I tasted vomit, I remember finding it interesting that I tasted vomit and nothing more than interest. I remember the trainer, she was a smaller Asian woman, in a blue windbreaker and a white shirt, her black hair pulled back into a pony-tail. She was very tired of talking to me, like we had been talking for a while. She was looking up at Coach, so that means I must have been seated, though I don’t remember feeling like I was. There were noises of people playing and thumping basketballs in the other rooms. I remember she said to Coach ‘he has to go to a hospital’ and that Coach was angry about that, not concerned or worried, but just angry that I had to leave and that I got to skip out on practice, like that I should be punished for this whole affair, not that I should be going to a hospital and be treated like a baby. I remember pulling up to the hospital, in the darkness, the lights were shining up onto the hospital from lights in the ground, giving it a strange glow. I do not remember who drove me there or anything about the hospital at all in any way. I remember going out, some days later, to a Mexican place near Orinda. All I remember was walking into that place with Mom and Dad, but not my siblings. I remember telling myself that I was not going to eat anything so that I could cut weight. I remember a really big sombrero on the wall outside the place. I remember telling Mom years later that I don’t even remember that week or much of that month. I lost 25lbs in water weight later that week in order to make weight for a tournament. I failed at that, but that is yet another story.
- Balgair 9y ago
  The last one that I remember is the one in rugby at college. We were doing takedown drills and I was to tackle one of the guys and he was trying to break through and score a try. I came at him and wrapped him up, and I think that he then used his elbow to try and drive me away. This time, again, he hit me on the crown of my head. There was that familiar shiver of warmth and chill that went down my spine for ~3 seconds. It was raining that day, lightly, and the field was totally mud. I got up after a bit from the blow. I was ready and in line with the guys to go at it again. Bob, the volunteer coach for the club, was trying to give directions on another iteration of the drill. He asked if there were any questions. I was still out of breath from the drills, and I asked him a question. But I didn’t have anything to say, all I knew was that I had to ask a question. I think a word salad came out of my mouth, that it was filled with stones or something. Bob looked at me like I was pulling his leg, like indignation at such a stunt. I again tried to say something, repeat myself through the huffs. Then I remember just falling down into the sloshy grey-brown mud , my arms at my sides, and just vomiting over and over and over just dry heaving in the middle of everyone and ruining the drill. I remember later, maybe 5 minutes?, one of the older and faster guys sitting me down in the try-zone and asking me who the president was (Bush). I still couldn’t talk right. I was shivering, but I wasn’t cold. They tried to cheer me up, saying it wasn’t that bad of a hit, that it only counts as a concussion if you get knocked out. It made someone feel better, but that person was again not me, I was just watching impassively, as someone else in my head marionetted me about. I remember that I talked to my room-mate's neurosurgeon father on the phone. He said not to fall asleep for a day, or I would die. I was really tired though and slept anyways. I still miss those sports, incredibly so. I miss the hitting, the drills, the camaraderie. I miss the parties and the fraternity of other men. No where else in life have I had those kinds of close friendships, that brotherhood really. The price is these kinds of concussions and injuries. But, if you are looking at it from the outside, I want to tell you that I walked away because I found the price too high. Other 'brothers' of mine, guys whose back I had, they did not walk away and they are doing alright, in our own ways. Still, I want to say that though the price of those sports and that friendship was these types of injuries, it was still a very hard decision for me. If I could have a magic pill that would take even one concussion away from me, give me one more chance, I'd be back on those fields and on those mats in a heartbeat. It's not that easy to explain, but at least one person on HN really would trade a concussion for one more blow of the whistle.

Balgair 9y ago

One was in high school when a wrestling-mate punched me in the back of the head with his elbow while I was down. We were doing drills in the Mulituse room, the one next to the band rooms, on the mats. I was wearing an ungodly amount of clothes to cut weight. It was near the end of practice. I was sprawled out on the mat and my partner's job was to not let me up and make a 1 point escape. I just sat there until I could see a move out, as he was a much better wrestler than I was. He tried everything including putting his finger up my butt, a favorite move of his that I had expected I would have to endure, to get me to move at all so he could get a move to make. Near the end of the drill session, and I didn’t anticipate this, he just got on top of me and slammed his elbow into the back of my head, as he was so frustrated, and just said ‘Fuck you /u/Balgair!’. Thing is about these concussions, you remember weird things, and not all of it. I usually remembered the first few seconds to minutes afterwards, but then blanks fill it all out, like a floater in your eye, but in your mind. Not static, just, Nothing, and not even emotions too, just calmness at the nothingness. I hope that is what death is like, that it is calm too. So I remembered the first few seconds after the hit. I now know that it was a concussion, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact the only sensation I remember is a chill shiver all the way from my crown of my head down into my lower back, taking about 3 seconds to complete. I don’t remember if I could hear or see or talk in those seconds. Just that shiver of warmth and chill all at once. Then I remember that we were doing spawrl drills, all of us boys in all those sweat pants and sweaters. I remember in that sodium orange arc-lamp lighting of the room, "John" yelling at us to do thing, as he was the student-leader that day. I remember trying to do the drills, and then not being able to. I remember that John was yelling at us all and then yelling at me to do it. And I remember the shame that I felt when John made us do more because I wasn’t doing them up to John's standards. I think we had to do another 1/3rd more. Then it all just goes blank. I think I have written about this before, but memory is hard. I’ll tell it again though, as another witnessing is probably good too as I don’t think that all the stories will match up 100%. The other time was actually with John too. I think we both got concussions real bad that day. John is a goofy foot. So, when we were doing pipe drills, he was falling the other way from most of the people next to him, like me. A pipe drill is when the other guy has your leg between his legs and has his arms wrapped around your thigh. Then that guys tries to take you down to the mat and pin you. So, typically, you use leverage and then try to swing the guy you are holding onto down. You go to the same side usually, as the foot you are holding, so if you hold the right leg, you then will swing the guy towards that side, so he falls on his back to the right side. Now, John being a lefty, had the opposite led being held, and that meant that he fell to the left and not the right like everyone else. That meant he fell into me. Specifically on this particular drill, his head fell into my head. I only remember the sound that it made, like a pulse of lightening. Just a really low, loud, crack. Maybe like a sheet of metal being thrown into a flat-bed. Then it’s just vignettes, or gifs, loops in my memory that I, to this day, just space out inside of. The chronology is shaky now, again, just different, files?, in my mind that are near that time period. You can put them in whatever order you want. I remember having my head in my hand, face down, I don’t know if I was sitting or standing, I was the one that was screaming, but I wasn’t telling myself to scream. I was listening to my voice scream, I wasn’t in control of myself, maybe my amygdala was, who knows. I don’t remember any sights or feelings outside of my hands and face and my hearing. Just numb otherwise. I remember sitting in the littler back room, I was back on the wall and legs bent upwards. I remember my fingers tingling really bad, like if you let them fall asleep on you for a hour. I remember spots in my vision, all purple and yellow, blue and brown, like a tye-dye shirt. Again, I felt like I was not me, like I was just watching a movie in theater of my eyes and my hands were these gloves of tingle sensations over whomever was remembering these things. I remember telling Coach about all this, like I wasn’t me, and he said ‘Get over it.’ It was so mean, so hateful, but I was numb and not talking, someone else was being talked to and doing the talking. I remember, really vaguely, the other coaches whispering, but I had no sight then. I knew they were talking about me and John, but I’ll never know what they said. I remember telling Coach I wanted to go to the nurse, who was literally the next door down from us, again, no vision in this memory. I remember Coach relenting and sounding exasperated, and I remember tasting vomit but not knowing if it was me or what had happened or why I tasted vomit, I remember finding it interesting that I tasted vomit and nothing more than interest. I remember the trainer, she was a smaller Asian woman, in a blue windbreaker and a white shirt, her black hair pulled back into a pony-tail. She was very tired of talking to me, like we had been talking for a while. She was looking up at Coach, so that means I must have been seated, though I don’t remember feeling like I was. There were noises of people playing and thumping basketballs in the other rooms. I remember she said to Coach ‘he has to go to a hospital’ and that Coach was angry about that, not concerned or worried, but just angry that I had to leave and that I got to skip out on practice, like that I should be punished for this whole affair, not that I should be going to a hospital and be treated like a baby. I remember pulling up to the hospital, in the darkness, the lights were shining up onto the hospital from lights in the ground, giving it a strange glow. I do not remember who drove me there or anything about the hospital at all in any way. I remember going out, some days later, to a Mexican place near Orinda. All I remember was walking into that place with Mom and Dad, but not my siblings. I remember telling myself that I was not going to eat anything so that I could cut weight. I remember a really big sombrero on the wall outside the place. I remember telling Mom years later that I don’t even remember that week or much of that month. I lost 25lbs in water weight later that week in order to make weight for a tournament. I failed at that, but that is yet another story.

Balgair 9y ago
The last one that I remember is the one in rugby at college. We were doing takedown drills and I was to tackle one of the guys and he was trying to break through and score a try. I came at him and wrapped him up, and I think that he then used his elbow to try and drive me away. This time, again, he hit me on the crown of my head. There was that familiar shiver of warmth and chill that went down my spine for ~3 seconds. It was raining that day, lightly, and the field was totally mud. I got up after a bit from the blow. I was ready and in line with the guys to go at it again. Bob, the volunteer coach for the club, was trying to give directions on another iteration of the drill. He asked if there were any questions. I was still out of breath from the drills, and I asked him a question. But I didn’t have anything to say, all I knew was that I had to ask a question. I think a word salad came out of my mouth, that it was filled with stones or something. Bob looked at me like I was pulling his leg, like indignation at such a stunt. I again tried to say something, repeat myself through the huffs. Then I remember just falling down into the sloshy grey-brown mud , my arms at my sides, and just vomiting over and over and over just dry heaving in the middle of everyone and ruining the drill. I remember later, maybe 5 minutes?, one of the older and faster guys sitting me down in the try-zone and asking me who the president was (Bush). I still couldn’t talk right. I was shivering, but I wasn’t cold. They tried to cheer me up, saying it wasn’t that bad of a hit, that it only counts as a concussion if you get knocked out. It made someone feel better, but that person was again not me, I was just watching impassively, as someone else in my head marionetted me about. I remember that I talked to my room-mate's neurosurgeon father on the phone. He said not to fall asleep for a day, or I would die. I was really tired though and slept anyways. I still miss those sports, incredibly so. I miss the hitting, the drills, the camaraderie. I miss the parties and the fraternity of other men. No where else in life have I had those kinds of close friendships, that brotherhood really. The price is these kinds of concussions and injuries. But, if you are looking at it from the outside, I want to tell you that I walked away because I found the price too high. Other 'brothers' of mine, guys whose back I had, they did not walk away and they are doing alright, in our own ways. Still, I want to say that though the price of those sports and that friendship was these types of injuries, it was still a very hard decision for me. If I could have a magic pill that would take even one concussion away from me, give me one more chance, I'd be back on those fields and on those mats in a heartbeat. It's not that easy to explain, but at least one person on HN really would trade a concussion for one more blow of the whistle.