On February 14th as I returned home after work, I slipped on black ice and fell. Hard. I lay there doing an inventory and realized I was in tact, more or less, and thought to myself that I should have accepted that invitation to extend my vacation in Florida for a few days. Yes, I should have.
I had a concussion. Being the product of a mother who's only question when we got hurt as children was "Are you gonna live?" I was sure I would be fine. A little shaken up, yes. A little nausea, sure. A headache, well that is only to be expected.
4 days later I got yelled at by my chiropractor and at least a half dozen friends to "stop being macho" and SLOW DOWN. I was appropriately scared that if I didn't I would surely do further damage to the only brain I have. It was as if I was given permission to feel the effects of the fall, and the head injury. Much bigger headache. Foggy brain. Trouble concentrating. Physical exercise made it all worse. So 2 weeks off. What? Ok, I can do that.
I proceeded to figure out the date when I could start workouts again and was sure that I could make up for lost time. After all, 2 weeks is not an eternity, right?
Not so fast. 2 weeks had gone by and I was excited to get to the gym and sweat. A little...since I am easing back in. First workout did not go well. Now I am really worried. Finally I will make an appointment with the neurologist. Only he cannot see me for 2 more weeks. I will take it easy until then. Continue working but no exercise.
Fast forward...waiting to see the neurologist I am getting anxious it is something more serious. Otherwise, I would be fine by now, right? Apparently not. According to the doc, some people heal in a couple weeks, others it takes a few months. So, work if you can. Continue to limit activity. Maybe some light walking.
It has now been 5+ weeks of no workouts. Talk about a detour.
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