It began with a bump. That’s all. A small little whack to the back of my head.
April 9th, 2012 started out as a normal Tuesday at Stephens College. I attended my two classes, and, in the evening, reported to the student-run theatre, The Warehouse, to work backstage for the current show, which was in tech. When the night began, everything was running smoothly. I was standing in the wings, waiting to assist with a costume change, and I stepped backward to move out of someone’s way. One step too far. I felt my head hit something, what it was, I’m still not sure. But I just shook it off. I didn’t feel faint, or pass out. As the night went on, I became more and more weak. I was convinced I was fine, so I wouldn’t let anyone take me to the hospital. I am extremely stubborn. And in hindsight, pretty darn stupid.
It wasn’t till three days later, when I could barely get out of bed, that I finally went to a doctor. She immediately sent me to the hospital, where it was declared that I did, indeed, have a “minor” concussion. Their best advice? “Lie down for a couple of days.” That went well. I don’t blame any of the doctors or the hospital for my prolonged condition, it just makes me wish that everyone was more educated on the subject.
After two weeks, I was feeling much better. So I carried on with my life as planned. Little did I know that this was only the very beginning of a life-altering journey. That a bomb was about to go off. Inside of my head.
See you soon,