The word “concussion” comes from the Latin language, which means “to shake violently." This form of injury frequently happens to the brains of young athletes. One in five high school students will sustain a concussion. Approximately 33 percent of high school athletes will report two or more in the same year. In 2012, 3,800,000 concussions were reported which is double the 2002 stats. It just so happens that I’ve encountered four of those concussions.
In the summer of 2012, I was pitching in a fastpitch softball game. When I pitched, I wore a face guard and chest guard; however, the top of my head was not protected. I pitched the ball and it was hit straight into the sun, out of my sight. To my pain and surprise it came down on top of my frontal head region. I was conscious, I was standing, and I was stubborn. The inning was finished with me pitching, refusing to leave the mound and showing weakness. By the time I stepped off of the field, I felt oblivious and sick; therefore, my mom insisted a trip to the emergency room. There I was diagnosed with a minor concussion and put to athletic rest for four to seven days.
Second time around was more of a “double-wammy” of unfortunate microscopic brain trauma. On September 29, 2015, I was playing a Wheeling Park fall softball game at John Marshall High School. Playing center field, I was diving left and right for gap balls, causing my neck and head to jolt. On top of that, I rounded first later in the game, going two because of an overthrow. John Marshall’s first baseman tried to throw me out at second base, but she hit me in the head, the ball bounced into left field, and I was on the run to three. At this point my brain had been struck by an impact that tossed it against my skull, and as I ran more, the blood flow to my head could’ve caused dangerous bleeding and swelling of the brain. Like I said before, I was uneducated and stubborn, for I didn’t accept removal from the game. I woke up the next day a different person. I was unfocused, slow, exhausted 24/7, stopped from sports for a while, and school was a challenge. I saw Dr. Derrick Eddy at Wheeling Hospital who sent me to physical therapy. Here I worked on levels for my brain, ranging one to five, to work towards passing a conclusion impact test.
One October day, I went to just support my Wheeling Park volleyball team on the bench. I was makng progress, for I was in stage three of concussion therapy. By the time warm up came for the opposing team, Morgantown, the night wasn’t looking promising for me. I got slammed in the side of the head by a hit from a middle hitter. I didn’t pass out, but I was stunned, seeing spots and slowly making my way to a chair. I went into a heavy daze without really even talking to anybody. I remember constantly staring at the ground, and I started crying when I told Coach Gaudino that I had just been hit again. I informed my dad, whom was working the concession stand, that we had to leave because I was hit. I got home to only stare at a wall for about 15 minutes before my mom rushed me to the emergency room. I wanted to fall asleep immediately, but they wouldn’t let me, worrying I’d become unconscious. I remember being in the CT scan room and doing my absolute best to stay awake. Results showed no serious swelling or bruising, but I was back to square one in my strange emotional and painful state of physical therapy. My mom and dad said they didn’t know who I was anymore. It was an awful feeling being behind in school, feeling like I couldn’t even maintain a conversation, being so unfocused and tired, no sports, constant worry, and there was no laughter. I wasn’t cleared and back to myself until January 7, 2016. I though that was the happiest day of my life.
Moving on, I was working hard in travel softball and volleyball summer camp. I managed to stay relatively injury free during the course of the Wheeling Park Softball season. I was beginning to regain strength and meet up with my good ole, happy self again, but my next setback was right around the corner. On Monday, June 20, 2016, I sustained my fourth concussion. This time I was playing in a summer league volleyball game, struck by a hard hit from St. Clairsville’s outside hitter. I guess my reaction time just wasn’t swift enough because I was hit right about my left eye. Like usual, I refused to exit the court until the last set when I began to get a headache. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I might have another concussion, so I avoided going into see a doctor. My symptoms seemed to be slowing down after about three days; however, when I tried to get back into running and conditioning, my head would just start to feel heavy and burn. After that, it was like I went downhill again; still, not as bad as the last concussion, thankfully. I was attempting to sleep constantly, I wasn’t happy or bubbly or having fun. I knew I had a big decision to make once I finally went to the doctor’s. Would I be able to continue my athletic career? Losing sports is like losing loved one, for me. I’ve played softball for twelve out of the fifteen years of my life, and it was ranked three times more dangerous on than volleyball. That day I decided I’d attempt to play my last softball tournament, in the end of July, hoping to be cleared. After that, I’d go into retirement.
In the end of this ruckus, I still may get to play volleyball. I can’t stand to see myself without an activity every day. Trust me, I’m busy I’ll have tasks to do, but sports are a part of who I am and my team is my second family. It’s the hardest thing to tell my softball family that I’ll no longer be playing with them, but they know I’ll be there to support when time allows it. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, especially when it comes to your health. As much as it may anger or depress to have to break up certain life style I believe something good has to come out of it. For anyone who has been through an injury, killing off a sports career, keep a positive attitude and find a new definition of you after the grief is over. It will get better, but the risk of staying, it’s definitely not worth the sake of your brain.
