What I'm not going to talk about

Yet

How Nick broke his leg. Or to be more accurate how Bear broke Nick’s leg. How we got home from Vermont. His surgery (went well) and his hospital stay. Everything that’s happened since and is still happening.

Those are stories that will be told, but I’m not ready to write about them yet. So planting a seed for the future. The good news is that he’s coming home today. So things will start to get better.

Instead, since this is my blog, after all, I want to cover some physical health/mental health things.

The mental health effects of the head injury. I reference these from time to time but wanted to give them their due.

It’s taken me some time to inventory what’s actually happened to me in the two years since the injury and what those impacts have been. A lot of the early writings were about the physical - the pain, the light/sound difficulties, the balance. And all the treatments. All well-meant, all ineffective.

But now that I’ve had lots of time to live with a TBI I know what the impacts are on my mental health. And there are a few. None of them affects cognition; I’m no less smart than I was before. My brain works at the same speed it always did, though I do have to focus on one thing at a time. Which turns out not to be at all a bad thing. That part of my brain is fully intact, which is a giant relief.

What’s changed -

• anxiety

• mood

• emotions

Anxiety

I didn’t always have an anxiety disorder; that was one of the wages of the unraveling of my first marriage. But it’s been more or less under control (with exceptions) for a long time. The head injury made it worse. I feel more anxiety - not full-on panic attacks but that icky flurrying feeling you get inside - the one that makes you unsure and unstable. And that happens much more of the time. A close friend said that one thing she’s noticed is how much more easily and quickly I’m triggered. And it’s true. Things that happen remind me of other things from deep in my past, and it’s like having PTSD. Often. I feel it at a low level much of the time, and the level rises with circumstances and situations. And of course increased anxiety makes sleeping much more difficult, which triggers more anxiety and makes sleeping harder - it’s like a merry-go-round in Hell.

Mood

The injury has made it harder to maintain my normal calm, level mood. It’s still my default, but it’s not as consistent. It was always easy for me to stay calm and level, even with all the things I’ve been through (and beloved readers you know some of those things. Not all, but enough. But know that I’ve lived with enough volatility in my life to have honed the skills of the peacemaker and the problemsolver.) The neuro suggested a mood stabilizer but I’m chary. Yes, obviously the weight gain, but I also don’t want to feel flattened. I’m still thinking about whether to start the med she suggested (effexor) and whether I really want to see a psychiatrist. I don’t. That doesn’t mean I won’t come around or won’t do it. But I really don’t want to.

Emotions

My emotions are just much closer to the surface than I’m used to. They’re usually buried deep, deep, deep within. (And you’ll remember that I’ve been called an ice princess.) Not now. I cry at the drop of a hat. I’m distracted and twitchy. I get sad in ways I never have. I feel dread, which I rarely did. All of this is made worse by the sleeping problems, which in turn makes all the problems worse.

Man, I don’t think people have any idea of what a traumatic brain injury does to you, how many systems it impacts, how much it changes your life, how profound the changes can be.

I still have a lot of work to do.

Quick shoulder update - famous ortho was supposed to call 3 days ago. Didn’t. Seeing the new guy Tuesday. Was supposed to be today but I accidentally cancelled the appointment. That was only one of the mistakes I’ve made recently, which I chalk up to this realization: there are things that a person with a head injury shouldn’t do alone. Period. I need help with stuff. Nick will be helping me as he can and as he’s healing.

The shoulder isn’t better. And isn’t getting better.

I think there’s a weird coolness factor with this. Stay with me. Famous ortho is a rotator cuff specialist, and that apparently is all she looked at. Rotator cuff tears are somewhat cool - they’re often athletic injuries.

You know what’s not cool? Bursitis. Sounds old, like rheumatism. Reminds me of the line in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” - the first rheumatism, the second rheumatism.

Yes, nothing sexy about bursitis, and the fact that it shares all the same symptoms of a rotator cuff doesn’t make it cool, it just makes it a wannabe.

Hoping new ortho finds bursitis to be interesting and treatable. We’ll see.

So more stories to come, and I hope more of them will be uplifting and less of a buzzkill. I hate a buzzkill. In fact there are people in this building who I barely know but try to avoid seeing in the elevators because all they are are buzzkills. I get into the elevator in a good mood and just a few floors later I’m bummed out.

I’ll try not to bum you out, beloved readers. Right now I’m about to be the primary caregiver for my husband, healing from a broken leg (no weight on it for 10 weeks), the never-ending headpain, the so-far untreated shoulder pain. While taking care of everything else and managing a young, strong, bull-headed 80-pound puppy. And oh yes all that mental health stuff.

Wish me luck - I’m gonna need it. I’m leaning in to my warrior qualities to get through this. And I will. Thanks for indulging me and letting me share how I really feel.