missed connection--Keep Writing number 150
One hundred and fifty. It seems like a celebratory number but I haven’t felt much like celebrating.
Three and a half months ago I got bumped in the head and it seemed like nothing until it felt like everything. I am slowly healing, no longer having daily headaches, my brain feels less foggy but the is residual damage. Not in my brain but in the ways I communicate.
I’ve been impatient. Possibly a side effect of the concussion but definitely the frustration of being unable to convey what I’m thinking, losing my words, and not having a way to describe what is happening inside my head. I say headache like I needed an aspirin but what I mean is there was constant pressure inside my head. If more than one person was speaking to me, or if there was too much noise or if I wasn’t sure what was happening or if I was tired or if someone was moving in my peripheral vision or if I was concentrating too long then things would get fuzzy, their meaning would be lost to me, the pressure in my head would increase. I would be tired, too tired to try again until I rested.
Twice a week I went to physical therapy for my injured neck and my PT would note my symptoms. He was patient, listed everything I said, checked in often. He listened. Every two or three weeks I checked in with a doctor who kept telling me that it should clear up soon and I realized how little the PT’s notes mattered. I talked to my doctor for a few minutes every two weeks and he said I should be fine. I didn’t feel fine. The more frustrated I got, the harder it became to communicate. I started keeping track of my daily symptoms because my doctor believed they should be resolved and I started to doubt what I was experiencing. As I struggled to feel heard by my doctor, a male friend assured me that doctors listen to their patients, ignoring the piles of written experiences of women, queer, young, trans, non-binary, black, native, latinx, people who have their experiences diminished or ignored. I think about chronically ill friends who struggle to convey their symptoms and to be taken seriously. I think of friends and kids I know who struggle to communicate because their way of thinking and processing doesn’t make sense to the people they are talking to or are unable to form words for what they need to say. I think of all the ways communication can be difficult.
In the early weeks, I did some research about what might help me heal. I bought logic puzzle booklets and a card game called Set—cards with shapes and colors that can be grouped in a number of ways. I appreciated the replacement of words with pictures, the complexity that came out of a simple premise.
This month’s Keep Writing card was inspired by this card game words being replaced by photos, and the struggle to communicate. It’s been a hard year. Be patient with others but keep trying.
ps as of 10/28 I’ve had a few days with very mild to no headache. I started driving a little. I feel clearer, more patient, and exceedingly grateful for the people who offered care. I still have more tests and check ups and Im not back to work regularly yet but it finally feels like I’m not going to feel like this forever. Im hesitant to say Im all better because anyone healing from anything will remind you that healing isn’t linear, but at least Im feeling more hopeful about things.
resources:
Tender Points: by amy berkowitz: a beautiful book about chronic illness, trauma, medical sexism
Caroline Paquita is a visual artist who has been dealing with post-concussive syndrome for 5 years and makes videos about her experience.
