My realization of the poor healthcare system we West Virginians experience on a daily basis started six years ago, when I suffered a traumatic brain injury in gym class. It was nothing major and, I know what you're thinking, but Micaela, you suffered a TRAUMATIC brain injury. Trust me, if I hadn't had to educate and advocate for myself, I would be thinking the same thing. But honestly, all I suffered from was a basic concussion with a brief moment of passing out afterwards. My mom immediately took me to the local ER just to be safe and, after a CT scan and examination, I was diagnosed with a concussion. I was discharged and told to go back to my daily school routine but, stay out of sports for a week. Exactly a week later, when my life should've returned to normal, is when my life changed forever.
I was in science class, the last class of the day, when BAM!, it literally hit me. My head pounded the desk in front of me and I was out like a light. My teacher thought I had fallen asleep but, that wasn't like me at all. I was a straight A student who stayed engaged in class. She told my classmate beside me to nudge me awake, but I was unresponsive. After my teacher and principal attempted to wake me, fear began to spread throughout the classroom. The school bell rang and all the kids went home, while I was still down for the count. Eventually, I came out of my state of unconsciousness but, I had no memory of who I was, who my family was, or where I was. At this point, my mom had made it to the school and she took me back to the ER, where my family was told I was doing this all for attention and there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. About five hours into my hospital visit, I gradually regained my memory, which just seemed to fuel the doctors even more. I was questioned and pushed to confess by several doctors, which just caused me to become upset. Finally, my mom said enough was enough and took me to the next local ER, where I was admitted for observation.
The next morning, after resting up from my rough night, a neurologist informed me that with a concussion, I should've been advised to stay out of school for at least two weeks. You see, an injured brain should be treated just like a broken bone in the body. Obviously, when you break your foot, you put it in a cast and don't walk on it for a few weeks to let it heal and, in that sense, the brain needed rest to heal. I left the hospital that day with orders to stay out of school for a couple weeks and the diagnosis of post concussion syndrome or, PCS.
After resting for the couple weeks suggested, I returned to school, hoping life would return to normal. But, unfortunately, the glimpse of the normal life I still had fell through the cracks of our poor healthcare system. Seizure after seizure, and appointment after appointment left me feeling crazy. Imagine being told you're faking something for six years. My self-confidence and, confidence in our healthcare in general, plummeted downhill.
I'll spare you the middle details but, six years later, after constant battles and self-advocating for myself, I finally got my diagnosis three months ago. Within these past three months of appointments and tests at an outside hospital I finally had a name for what I've been suffering from. I have non-epileptic seizures caused by stress and anxiety. Yes, they're real and there's no way in the world I would ever fake something like this. I'm in the process of recovering from this illness and hope to regain some sense of normalcy soon.
I can't help but wonder what life might've been like if I would've gotten my diagnosis earlier. Would I still be suffering? Would I even be the same person?
My advice to anyone who is suffering from symptoms with an unknown cause: do not give up! Push until you get a coherent diagnosis with valid treatment options and support. I wouldn't wish these past six years on my worst enemy. No one deserves to feel unheard and ignored by those who should be helping us.
