How childhood concussions and a bad fall at 20 years old taught me a lesson about protecting your brain.

Story by Hailee Wickersham

When I was in elementary school, I rode the bus to and from home every afternoon with my younger sister. More often than not, at the end of the day, her jacket had a sticker from the nurse that said ‘I bumped my head today.’ Clumsiness has always been my family’s defining trait. But to mine and everyone else’s surprise, clumsiness wasn’t what led me to my kitchen floor one August afternoon.

I was cooking dinner when I fainted. It happened within a matter of seconds — one moment I was standing near the counter and the next I felt as if a heavy blanket was placed around my shoulders.

My legs locked and I tipped directly backward on my heels. By an unlucky chance, I hit the back of my head on a sturdy ceramic bowl that held our cat’s food. I was unconscious for no more than a minute or two.

Luckily, my partner had been in the kitchen cooking dinner with me. He turned around immediately when he heard the loud “smack” of my body contacting the cold laminate floor. When I woke up, I was disoriented and thought I had gone to sleep, believing it was the next morning.

My immediate response after the fall foreshadowed the disorientation I would feel for the next couple of months. I still feel it to this day.

I instantly knew this fall felt different. I had never hit my head this hard, and, at the time, it hurt like hell. Why did I faint at this moment when I had never fainted before? Were there warning signs from my body I had overlooked? Was there something wrong with me?

My thoughts were churning, but the foggy stupor I woke up in reduced my reaction to babbling tears.

After I calmed down, I tried to chalk it up to dehydration, took some Advil and spent the remainder of the night resting. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t feel like I could think.

In the following days and weeks, I felt as if I had been cast out to sea by my own brain. I found myself getting easily overwhelmed.

Outside, it was brought on by stimuli such as loud noises or bright lights. Inside, however, I was growing increasingly frustrated with myself. I couldn’t remember important conversations that happened moments ago. My limbs felt heavy and I was always on the verge of falling asleep. Wherever I went, I felt as if I was dragging myself behind me.

It wasn’t surprising to find that, according to the Model Systems Knowledge Translation Center, a national center that shares research about traumatic brain injuries, survivors often experience fatigue more quickly and frequently than those without brain injuries.

But when I was awake, my mind was in a million and one different places.

I couldn’t hold on to a thought for long before it was washed away by either distraction or exhaustion. I became afraid of things I’d never thought of before. I feared I would fall again or push the people that were close to me away by bringing attention to how I was struggling.

As my anxiety grew, I led myself on an exhausting wild goose chase for an answer. There were doctor’s appointments, heart rate monitors and brain tests, but everything came up as normal.

I wanted an answer so badly. I wished for someone to tell me it wasn’t illogical or absurd to be feeling the way I did from a simple fall.

In 2016, National Public Radio’s Truven-Health poll estimated that 1 in 4 Americans have experienced a concussion in their life.

Concussions are also commonly referred to as mild traumatic brain injuries. Symptoms can range from an immediate headache to long-term concentration and memory issues or changes in personality.

While there is consistency between cases, the severity of each symptom someone feels can also depend on variables like pre-existing conditions and the nature of their head injury.

In my case, I had two concussions from my childhood and, like many others, I live with depression and anxiety. Heart problems also run in my family. These factors could easily contribute to how I experienced — and continue to experience — my recent concussion.

As a cautious child, I was always responsible about wearing a helmet when I did potentially dangerous activities like riding my bike. I was aware from a young age that any force coming into contact with your head was a big no-go.

In 2017, unintentional falls were the leading cause of traumatic brain injuries and accounted for almost half of all traumatic brain injury-related emergency department visits, according to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention.

Yet, even with all the helmets my mother bought my sister and I, we both experienced concussions in our lives. So what’s an injury-prone person to do?

You just keep living. By being in fear of hitting my head again, I wasted my time and energy worrying about the what-ifs. I’ve accepted that while doctors might never be able to tell me why I fell nearly two years ago, I do know I’ve felt different since that day.

And I’m OK with that.