Flashback Friday: All the Damn Concussions

I have so many photos of this clown, it is ridiculous.

While I was waiting for my husband to come home last night, I got a phone call from him. With the rain we have been having, he took the opportunity to ride his dirt bike as much as possible. He called and told me he would be home on time, except his friend had gotten a concussion while riding last night. This is nothing new in motocross (or horses, for that matter) so I sighed and asked if he was ok so far and if they would be taking him to the hospital. Which got me reminiscing of all the times I had to take him to the hospital. Motorcycles, man, I tell ya.

I hated this gear. It was so ugly, but free.

This is better.

Every year that Blake raced, I had to take him to the hospital at least once. That was eight different occasions. One back injury, broken wrist, shoulder, and five concussions. Yep. Five. That is also not including the other concussion he got while playing rugby. Once he concussed himself twice in three months, he knew he had to give up the racing. It was a very extremely sad moment, it was wordless, but I saw it in his face. But we kind of want to keep him around, and every time he hit his head, things would get a little more difficult for him. It made him a bit dyslexic, so I am especially proud of him for graduating with a computer science degree.

The section where he had his first concussion.

Flowers at the track.

The first concussion he got was while I was telling someone else about my concussion on Booger. He was riding around, playing with some kids (he always helped the younger ones that looked up to him get better on the track) and messed up a double on the track. He got up right away, walked his bike over to us and looked really confused. The kids started to ask him questions, and he couldn't answer them. We went back to his truck, where the others helped me load up his bike and change him back to regular clothes. As this was happening, he started to get more confused. He would point to his right knee, but he would say left. And then he would be puzzled, because he knew it was the right knee, but he could only say left.

Sometimes the lighting was great.

I loved this brown gear. Don't know why. Racing in Washougal.

We got him in the truck and I started to drive him home. During the drive, everything kept getting worse. He was now mostly speaking jibberish. I knew he was asking me questions by the way he phrased and sounded out the nonsense, and I couldn't answer them. When we got to his house, I hurried in to tell his mom that he needed to go to the hospital (keep in mind I was 16 and he was 15 years old). On the way to the hospital, he tried to escape out of the van, vomited several times and got extremely angry and then sad. Some words were coming back. I told him I loved him and he turned and screamed at me that he didn't care. Three minutes later, he started to cry and grabbed my hand and said he was so sorry. It was so surreal.

Playing on the sand hill.

More racing in Washougal. Looks fun, right?

We got to the hospital and they brought him back immediately. At this point, his answer to every question was "November 22nd". He was quite uncooperative with everything and yelled at all of the doctors and nurses. They wanted him to pee in a container to check for blood and the male nurse asked if he needed help. He yelled "NO I'M NOT GAY" and the man laughed a bit as we apologized for Blake's behavior. After lots of testing, they finally let him sleep. I half think this is because he was so belligerent and wanted a break. He had to answer some questions to go home and one of them was "what major holiday is it this month?" and his answer was "my birthday." They then asked him what other major holiday, and he said "Thanksgiving". He was free to go home.

There was a 120ft jump in Washougal. It scared me.

He says he is afraid of heights. I don't buy it.

We got back in the van, and he was still angry and impatient. He plopped his head onto my lap and I tried not to move a muscle because nobody wanted to wake the beast. We got him home and settled on the couch. I slept on the floor next to him and woke him up every couple of hours to check on him. At some point in the night, he woke me up because he was situating himself on the floor with me. He was soft and kind and quiet and caring. It creeped me the hell out. It was like his mind rewound itself in his sleep and he was back to normal.

Oh look, a picture of me at the track. I was always there.

So, I had to do this whole ordeal four more times. Except all of the other times, I would take him straight to the hospital and his mom would meet me there. We would sit, embarrassed, as Blake became angry and loud and uncooperative every single time. The part I find interesting is comparing my two concussions to his. Mine were both horse related (Booger tripped and bucked at the same time while galloping through a pasture and somersaulted with me on him, and Vegas reared and fell on top of me. Both times without helmets. I am so dumb.) but I reacted in a different way. I didn't get angry. I was emotional and confused, almost goofy, but no anger.

It was a great place for photos though.

Blake always seemed to recover quite quickly from his concussions. It took me much longer. With the Vegas fall, it took me months for the head pain to go away and the weird falling feeling. I did not go to the hospital either of those times. I certainly should have, but I didn't. With the Vegas fall, I did go in to seem my doctor 5 days after. My head and leg killed me. I tried to work, but all I did was stare down at the counter. It was like I was under water and everything was in slow motion. Also, Vegas had crushed the muscles in my leg, so they were trying to recover as well. The doctor told me NO WORK for at least a week, but I still went to class. Let me tell you, organic chemistry sucks anyways, but it is especially hard after a concussion.

Washougal can get a little wet.

Yearling Vegas says she would never do such a thing...

Concussions are scary, and I do not like them. I am always worried about the lasting effects of all of the concussions that Blake has had, and I worry about him getting more, as he still rides. I worry about my friends' heads. Our other motocross friend who had his first concussion earlier this year was repeating himself every 30 seconds for hours until he snapped out of it. What are your guy's experiences with concussions?

A gopro shot of him now. Still being dangerous.