Crash Course

So, I hit my head last Monday in the usual mid-seizure way, which resulted in a “mild” concussion (“mild” in quotation marks because I wasn’t told that it’s mild but just assume/decided it is to make myself feel better).

I know, I know: it’s like every time I knock my brains around, they miraculously get smarter.

As I drink my morning tea, I reflect on possible collisions—sorry, imaginary people in imaginary trains—and on how I should have been wearing my helmet toque (not pictured).
As I drink my morning tea, I reflect on potential collisions—sorry, imaginary people in imaginary trains—and on how I should have been wearing my helmet-toque (not pictured).

I’ve now had enough concussions that I’ve been able to distinguish distinct patterns in how the post-concussion recovery period goes, at least in my case. Here are some of the more troublesome/interesting characteristics:

  1. Outbursts of irrational anger, but DON’T TELL ME IT’S IRRATIONAL BECAUSE NEVER MIND JUST GET OUT OF MY FACE BEFORE I SAY SOMETHING I’LL REGRET. This is undoubtedly worse for my husband; however, it’s also less-than-ideal for me since feeling like an asshole while being incapable of controlling my asshole-y behaviour isn’t the greatest. Anyway, moving on.
  2. Difficulty concentrating for more than ten minutes at a time, which is approximately not any different from when I’m not recovering from a concussion.
  3. An overwhelming urge to quit my PhD program and become a professional sleeper, which, again, is pretty normal for me (damn you, Topamax).
  4. Self-pity. I’m not proud to admit it, but concussions make me feel incredibly, and very unattractively, sorry for myself, even when I condescendingly attempt to refocus my energy on trying to feel sorry for other people.

I’ll leave it at that: keepin’ it short and sweet since I’m still getting over a concussion and shouldn’t tax myself (that’s code for “I have nothing else to write and want to do other things”).

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