84
MLBLUE
FALL2016
Acceptance was the key that unlockedmy
journey to healing but it didn’t come tome
overnight. It was a slow process that took
years. At first I thought acceptance meant
giving up, that accepting my injury—and the
fact my life would have serious limitations—
meant that I was accepting defeat. But over
time, I learned that accepting my injury just
meant being realistic. Accepting my new
limitations allowedme to start the second
stage of my healing: adapting. The time I
spent in darkness gave me the chance to
think about the steps I would take when I was
healthy. I didn’t give up on my dreams and
goals, I tweaked them. Like loading a slingshot
and slowly pulling it back, I was preparing to
launch.
A brain injury is the result of damage to nerve
tissue and is most commonly caused by an
impact or deceleration of the brain. The science
is new and the long-term effects are still mostly
unknown. Unlike joints or organs, scopes are
not an option for the brain and CT scans and
other tests are not always a reliable way to
determine the extent of the injury.
Inmy case, my eyes were unable to focus, track
or dilate which caused severe dizziness, nausea
and light sensitivity. My autonomic nervous
system (responsible for internal organs) ran
haywire resulting in noise sensitivity, increased
heart rate, digestion issues, restlessness,
anxiety, depression, memory and concentration
problems. And the inflammation in my brain
caused chronic pain, extreme fatigue, and
headaches.
My parents and friends became my health
advocates. I saw physiotherapists, chiropractors
andmassage therapists. I visited vestibular
therapists, neurologists and brain injury
specialists. After years of seeking help, I found
combinations of treatments allowedme to get
my life back. During two weeks at a chiropractic
neurology centre in Atlanta, Georgia,
doctors used simple eyemovement exercises
and complicatedmachines to re-routemy
neurological functions around the damaged part
of my brain. They restrictedmy diet and tweaked
my already whole food–based, vegetarian diet
with a focus on increasing iron absorption and
limiting inflammation-causing foods.
I experienced huge improvements, like being
able to concentrate and hold a conversation.
I didn’t need sunglasses indoors. My nausea
decreased significantly but I still had
debilitating headaches, a type of pain that
is difficult to describe. After a month of
low-intensity laser-light therapy treatment in
Toronto that focused on reducing inflammation,
I was able to start light activity such as short
runs and bike rides. I re-introduced paddling,
then whitewater.
When I lost my ability to be active, I lost a
large part of my identity. I definedmyself
through sports and I felt lost without them.
So I sought new, gentle ways to challenge my
body andmind. I ate with my left hand and
did Sudoku. I visualized running rivers, surfing
waves and biking trails. First forwards, then
backwards. I practicedmeditation and gentle
yoga at home. Meditation has been a big part
of in my journey towards health as well as
forgiveness, which it is an ongoing battle.
There would be nomore aerial tricks and or
big boofs, but slalom kayaking became an
outlet for my competitive drive and satisfied
my whitewater addiction. As I recovered,
slalomwas what I was working toward. A
new goal. Some doctors toldme to give up
whitewater—that the risks were too high. But
the professionals I trusted toldme that I could
get back in whitewater but I needed to take
care of my head.
Some of my family and friends are concerned
that I’ve returned to whitewater and sports. I
nowmust take many precautions and have to
think twice about everything I do but it’s been
my choice to adapt rather than give up.
My social life has changed forever but my close
friends understand why I can’t go tomovies,
the bar, eat pizza or drink wine. With earplugs
in every coat pocket, a travel pillow for daily
naps, and the confidence to tell people when
I’m not feeling well, I have adapted to life as
a mid-twenty-year-old recovering from a brain
injury. I no longer throw back beers with my
raft guide buddies but, on a good day, I can
drop a cube of ice, a squirt of lemon and a
splash of tequila into a tumbler and enjoy the
mini buzz. Sometimes it flares up a severe
headache. Sometimes I have to lie down.
Sometimes I can have a second drink.
I’m not sure how honest my love of tequila
is. Same with slalom kayaking. They are both
growing on me, and I’m grateful to have
found a way back to sport and socializing. It’s
possible my appreciation for both comes from
the fact that they are the next best thing.
Now I’m in my slalom boat. The nausea starts
to dissipate and I let go of the rocks. As I focus
on gates, strokes andmoves, the throbbing
in my head dulls. It will come back. But right
now, the pure joy of putting a paddle in the
water makes me feel whole. I feel like myself.
Paddling allows me to put the pain behind
me for the moment. I’ll continue tomake
adjustments and adaptations to life as my brain
keeps healing. I’m happy to have found slalom
and tequila. I paddle out into the whitewater
and smile, this time for real.
Carmen is in the process of creating an online
resource
) for athletes and
young people with head injuries. And Parachute
has just released the Concussion Ed app
)
Thesesymptomsaremy
constant companion. But
I’m inakayakagain. I am
determined.
Healing fromaTBI isnot
likehealing fromabroken
arm. There isnoprotocol of
recovery.
