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The flash of a camera. Ambient noise in a public lobby. The rattle, hum and motion of a faculty elevator.
These everyday sights and sounds, imperceptible background buzz to most of us, can trigger a range of issues to those suffering chronic post-concussion symptoms.
In the name of greater awareness and funding to promote better and faster treatment for a growing problem, four courageous, accomplished women came forward to share their personal stories of dealing with chronic symptoms related to injuries suffered five to eight years ago. Each continues to confront multiple complications, including nausea, dizziness, headaches and noise and light sensitivities.
We spoke in a board room darkened by drawn blinds inside the University of Ottawa Brain and Mind Research Institute at Roger Guindon Hall. First we navigated the lobby noise and an elevator ride — one of the concussion survivors donned large headphones in defence.
There will be a price to be paid later for all this effort, getting to The Ottawa Hospital campus, giving interviews, posing for photos, practising prepared speeches to be read prior to a concussion march next Saturday. They all carefully avoided cognitive work the previous day, to reserve strength and energy for our meeting.
This is called “pacing”, a trick concussion survivors know well.
Meet four members of the Concussion Injury Group, a band of advocates so determined they risk taxing their personal health, short-term, for the end game of better care for others.
Three of the four lost top career positions due to sudden, and freak brain injury. A fourth had her career path altered but is about to graduate, thanks to home-schooling and the online courses of Carleton University.
Jane Clark, 55, was a leading patent litigation lawyer. She kept company with scientists from around the globe, held senior management positions, did volunteer work in the community and sang in the office band. Five years ago, her life was forever altered by a simple slip on ice.
“I lived life large,” Clark says. “Now it’s very much about living small.”
Friday, Clark leaned heavily on the arm of her grown son, Alex, as she left the building.
Natalia Rybczynski, 46, holds a PhD in biological anthropology and anatomy from Duke University. She was a researcher at the Museum of Nature and a professor at Carleton University. Her passion was leading paleontology expeditions to the High Arctic. Along the trail she blazed, Natalia discovered new fossil mammals and was featured in scientific journals, including the journal Nature. In 2015 she was named one of Canada’s top explorers.
By then, her career had been halted following a brain injury in 2011 while cross-country skiing, struck by someone off-line, speeding down an icy track.
Today, Rybczynski stays with her retired parents in Blackburn Hamlet weekdays to avoid overtaxing herself while home alone. She does some volunteer work for the museum, and returns to her husband on weekends, when he can be around for support.
“It’s challenging to explain to friends what has changed,” Rybczynski says. “We’re here today, we have the energy to support this great cause because we have such amazing support. There’s a lot of people who don’t have that.
“We’re all aware how far you can fall through the cracks.”
Meg Milne, 58, loved teaching English at Canterbury High School. She also coached sports teams. While an active sport participant, she had suffered four concussions. The fifth one was otherworldly. On Dec. 29, 2012, while experiencing a vivid nightmare, Milne bolted from bed, sleepwalking, and lunged at what she thought was a bedroom intruder. She slammed headfirst into a dresser.
Today, Milne walks with a cane and speaks with an occasional impairment though it can’t diminish her powerful articulation. She cherishes life’s precious little achievements, shared in the comfort of fellow sufferers who “get it.”
“Those are your Stanley Cups — when you can go to the grocery store with your list of five items, find all five, and get them all without a brain freeze,” Milne says. “And you pay and get out the door. That’s a victory.”
Frances Casey, 24, is the youngest of the group. She was just 16, a promising soccer player, when a devastating collision sent her to hospital. She was knocked unconscious and diagnosed with micro-bleeding in the brain.
Eight years later, Casey’s monumental victory is an upcoming university graduation, thanks in no small part to her mother’s home-schooling. Casey later switched programs from neuroscience at the University of Ottawa for Carleton’s online psychology option, which allowed her to study at her own pace, going to school only to write exams.
“It was hard not to graduate with friends,” says Casey, wearing strips of tape on her glasses (binasal occlusion) to help with her reading. “I was an A student, a provincial athlete. I hated naps. I was type A — go, go, go!
“I had my sights set on medical school or teachers college, and all of that was gone. I lost all my friends because I was in bed all the time. I was injured before Sidney Crosby (2011), so there was way less awareness about concussion.”
Though now dependent on daily naps, Casey has improved over the past year, is able to drive a car for short trips, and has reconnected with friends. To her astonishment, her boyfriend, now her fiancé, stayed with her through eight difficult years. They’d started dating in Grade 9.
“It’s crazy impressive,” Casey says of her boyfriend’s support. He’s now in medical school. “I don’t think I could have done it.”
Their circumstances vary, but these CIG members share a common goal: To make things easier for tomorrow’s concussion victim. All four experienced barriers in getting treatment, including prolonged wait times for a specialist and unhelpful medical opinions.
One doctor told Rybczynski: “This kind of thing can be life-changing. Good luck.” And gave no referral.
This renowned field explorer relies on medications to help with sleep, headaches, concentration and to control heart rate and blood pressure. Mild exercise can trigger symptoms.
Clark returned to her fast-paced law office four weeks after her injury, assuming that had been time enough to heal. It was a huge mistake, prompting a setback. She wonders now about the “lost opportunity” of her first year of foundering for help and direction. Where does one go with a concussion? A family doctor may or may not be apprised of protocol and techniques. Getting into the Rehabilitation Centre can take a year or more. Clark’s first true diagnosis came 15 months after her accident.
“I wonder if the outcome would have been different if I’d had an earlier start,” she says.
Milne dreams of centralized, co-ordinated concussion care, including care for families who bear the burden.
“Concussion hurts regular people,” Milne says. “It doesn’t just hurt athletes. What it does to athletes, of course, is devastating. But it can hurt anyone, of any age. Your lives really change in a flash.
“I do meet a lot of people who are losing hope. They don’t know where to start to get help,” Milne says. “We often end up having to turn to each other, as lay people, for information. On where to go for treatment. What treatment works, what doesn’t. How to pay for it, because we aren’t covered by OHIP.”
Milne has relied on a host of therapists, for speech, balance, vision and mood issues. Mindfulness is critical for dealing with the dark periods that often come with chronic symptoms.
Dr. Shawn Marshall is medical director for the acquired brain injury rehabilitation clinic at the Ottawa Hospital Rehabilitation Centre. He estimates that among patients who develop chronic symptoms, about 50 per cent have mood and depression issues.
Dr. Shawn Marshall
Marshall believes in targeting specific concussion-related symptoms, especially what he considers the key three:
Sleep. Headache. Mood.
A lack of restorative sleep can promote headache, which in turn affects sleep and mood. It’s a vicious circle.
Rybczynski, not an emotional person prior to her injury, will sometimes break out in tears for no reason, but has come to associate it with fatigue.
Clark says that while she doesn’t suffer dark moods, she gets irritable and outspoken when tired.
“It’s like there is no filter,” she says.
An occupational therapist suggested developing a safe word to use as a reminder against making unfiltered expressions around family. They chose: “rainbow.” Who could remain irritated at the thought of nature’s colourful gift?
“It’s funny because they don’t even have to say it now,” she says. “You know it’s coming out.
Marshall views mood swings as a “complication” of the concussion, something to be addressed through awareness, mindfulness-based cognitive therapy, psychological intervention and possibly, medication.
“We all wish there was a let’s get-better-after-concussion cure or pill,” Marshall says. “There isn’t.”
Wayne Scanlan writes a regular column on fitness, health and wellness.
wscanlan@postmedia.com
查看原文...
These everyday sights and sounds, imperceptible background buzz to most of us, can trigger a range of issues to those suffering chronic post-concussion symptoms.
In the name of greater awareness and funding to promote better and faster treatment for a growing problem, four courageous, accomplished women came forward to share their personal stories of dealing with chronic symptoms related to injuries suffered five to eight years ago. Each continues to confront multiple complications, including nausea, dizziness, headaches and noise and light sensitivities.
We spoke in a board room darkened by drawn blinds inside the University of Ottawa Brain and Mind Research Institute at Roger Guindon Hall. First we navigated the lobby noise and an elevator ride — one of the concussion survivors donned large headphones in defence.
There will be a price to be paid later for all this effort, getting to The Ottawa Hospital campus, giving interviews, posing for photos, practising prepared speeches to be read prior to a concussion march next Saturday. They all carefully avoided cognitive work the previous day, to reserve strength and energy for our meeting.
This is called “pacing”, a trick concussion survivors know well.
Meet four members of the Concussion Injury Group, a band of advocates so determined they risk taxing their personal health, short-term, for the end game of better care for others.
Three of the four lost top career positions due to sudden, and freak brain injury. A fourth had her career path altered but is about to graduate, thanks to home-schooling and the online courses of Carleton University.
Jane Clark, 55, was a leading patent litigation lawyer. She kept company with scientists from around the globe, held senior management positions, did volunteer work in the community and sang in the office band. Five years ago, her life was forever altered by a simple slip on ice.
“I lived life large,” Clark says. “Now it’s very much about living small.”
Friday, Clark leaned heavily on the arm of her grown son, Alex, as she left the building.
Natalia Rybczynski, 46, holds a PhD in biological anthropology and anatomy from Duke University. She was a researcher at the Museum of Nature and a professor at Carleton University. Her passion was leading paleontology expeditions to the High Arctic. Along the trail she blazed, Natalia discovered new fossil mammals and was featured in scientific journals, including the journal Nature. In 2015 she was named one of Canada’s top explorers.
By then, her career had been halted following a brain injury in 2011 while cross-country skiing, struck by someone off-line, speeding down an icy track.
Today, Rybczynski stays with her retired parents in Blackburn Hamlet weekdays to avoid overtaxing herself while home alone. She does some volunteer work for the museum, and returns to her husband on weekends, when he can be around for support.
“It’s challenging to explain to friends what has changed,” Rybczynski says. “We’re here today, we have the energy to support this great cause because we have such amazing support. There’s a lot of people who don’t have that.
“We’re all aware how far you can fall through the cracks.”
Meg Milne, 58, loved teaching English at Canterbury High School. She also coached sports teams. While an active sport participant, she had suffered four concussions. The fifth one was otherworldly. On Dec. 29, 2012, while experiencing a vivid nightmare, Milne bolted from bed, sleepwalking, and lunged at what she thought was a bedroom intruder. She slammed headfirst into a dresser.
Today, Milne walks with a cane and speaks with an occasional impairment though it can’t diminish her powerful articulation. She cherishes life’s precious little achievements, shared in the comfort of fellow sufferers who “get it.”
“Those are your Stanley Cups — when you can go to the grocery store with your list of five items, find all five, and get them all without a brain freeze,” Milne says. “And you pay and get out the door. That’s a victory.”
Frances Casey, 24, is the youngest of the group. She was just 16, a promising soccer player, when a devastating collision sent her to hospital. She was knocked unconscious and diagnosed with micro-bleeding in the brain.
Eight years later, Casey’s monumental victory is an upcoming university graduation, thanks in no small part to her mother’s home-schooling. Casey later switched programs from neuroscience at the University of Ottawa for Carleton’s online psychology option, which allowed her to study at her own pace, going to school only to write exams.
“It was hard not to graduate with friends,” says Casey, wearing strips of tape on her glasses (binasal occlusion) to help with her reading. “I was an A student, a provincial athlete. I hated naps. I was type A — go, go, go!
“I had my sights set on medical school or teachers college, and all of that was gone. I lost all my friends because I was in bed all the time. I was injured before Sidney Crosby (2011), so there was way less awareness about concussion.”
Though now dependent on daily naps, Casey has improved over the past year, is able to drive a car for short trips, and has reconnected with friends. To her astonishment, her boyfriend, now her fiancé, stayed with her through eight difficult years. They’d started dating in Grade 9.
“It’s crazy impressive,” Casey says of her boyfriend’s support. He’s now in medical school. “I don’t think I could have done it.”
Their circumstances vary, but these CIG members share a common goal: To make things easier for tomorrow’s concussion victim. All four experienced barriers in getting treatment, including prolonged wait times for a specialist and unhelpful medical opinions.
One doctor told Rybczynski: “This kind of thing can be life-changing. Good luck.” And gave no referral.
This renowned field explorer relies on medications to help with sleep, headaches, concentration and to control heart rate and blood pressure. Mild exercise can trigger symptoms.
Clark returned to her fast-paced law office four weeks after her injury, assuming that had been time enough to heal. It was a huge mistake, prompting a setback. She wonders now about the “lost opportunity” of her first year of foundering for help and direction. Where does one go with a concussion? A family doctor may or may not be apprised of protocol and techniques. Getting into the Rehabilitation Centre can take a year or more. Clark’s first true diagnosis came 15 months after her accident.
“I wonder if the outcome would have been different if I’d had an earlier start,” she says.
Milne dreams of centralized, co-ordinated concussion care, including care for families who bear the burden.
“Concussion hurts regular people,” Milne says. “It doesn’t just hurt athletes. What it does to athletes, of course, is devastating. But it can hurt anyone, of any age. Your lives really change in a flash.
“I do meet a lot of people who are losing hope. They don’t know where to start to get help,” Milne says. “We often end up having to turn to each other, as lay people, for information. On where to go for treatment. What treatment works, what doesn’t. How to pay for it, because we aren’t covered by OHIP.”
Milne has relied on a host of therapists, for speech, balance, vision and mood issues. Mindfulness is critical for dealing with the dark periods that often come with chronic symptoms.
Dr. Shawn Marshall is medical director for the acquired brain injury rehabilitation clinic at the Ottawa Hospital Rehabilitation Centre. He estimates that among patients who develop chronic symptoms, about 50 per cent have mood and depression issues.
Dr. Shawn Marshall
Marshall believes in targeting specific concussion-related symptoms, especially what he considers the key three:
Sleep. Headache. Mood.
A lack of restorative sleep can promote headache, which in turn affects sleep and mood. It’s a vicious circle.
Rybczynski, not an emotional person prior to her injury, will sometimes break out in tears for no reason, but has come to associate it with fatigue.
Clark says that while she doesn’t suffer dark moods, she gets irritable and outspoken when tired.
“It’s like there is no filter,” she says.
An occupational therapist suggested developing a safe word to use as a reminder against making unfiltered expressions around family. They chose: “rainbow.” Who could remain irritated at the thought of nature’s colourful gift?
“It’s funny because they don’t even have to say it now,” she says. “You know it’s coming out.
Marshall views mood swings as a “complication” of the concussion, something to be addressed through awareness, mindfulness-based cognitive therapy, psychological intervention and possibly, medication.
“We all wish there was a let’s get-better-after-concussion cure or pill,” Marshall says. “There isn’t.”
Wayne Scanlan writes a regular column on fitness, health and wellness.
wscanlan@postmedia.com
查看原文...
