Traumatic Brain Injuries

Hello Ceiling, Meet Head

Howdy,

So, last night, I knocked myself out.

You can’t take me anywhere, I swear. I was hurrying (more on that in a bit) down into my dungeon office. The stairs are steep, and when I ducked my head below the ceiling, I inadvertently lifted it up too soon.

BANG

I came to about 5 seconds later on the ground, writhing in pain.

Now, part of this is funny. And part of this is par for the course.

First, the funny. Look, I’m not the most graceful of creatures. I tend to move fast and take the bruises as they come.

Again, twenty years in the military will do some strange things to you. You’re always in a hurry. Moving. Plotting. Angling. Fighting. Go.

Here’s something you usually never hear in the military, “Look, take your time. Relax. It’s no big deal.”

Everything is on fire (due to our incompetence), and everything must be done RIGHT NOW.

It’s one of the things I’m slowly (re)learning. Relax. Take your time. It’s not a rush. Be still. If I can get that through my thick skull — and thank G*d for a thick skull—I’ll probably be better off mentally, spiritually, and physically.

Unfortunately, this is my fourth(?) TBI. I’ve been knocked out cold at least three times — all of them in Afghanistan, keeping up with foreign relations with the Taliban. I’m not much for war stories—at least of the kinetic type—but let’s say they were traumatic events.

When you’re young and stupid, you move on without a thought.

“Oh yeah, that RPG blew me up into the wadi, and, bruh, I came to with stars,” I probably exclaimed to my buddy Casey, who undoubtedly told me to stop being such a wimp.

I kept trucking. My balance was probably off—no big deal.

Usually, from what I learned, your brain will heal from TBIs—if you let it heal.

Raise your hand if you think I ever let it heal.

Yeah. Good guess.

Add on top of that a heaping of PTSD, Moral Injury, and other ailments, and the effects of the TBI are exacerbated.

I have depth perception issues (you don’t say, genius?). I get dizzy often. My vision is very sensitive to light. My headaches come and go, but when they come, watch out, baby.

All of this also affects my mood. It makes me even more of a grumpy combat veteran as if I needed another reason (points to the map of Iraq and Afghanistan).

The DoD has really dropped the ball on TBIs. It’s pretty pathetic. They didn’t track them in combat. Nor did they do it throughout my career. It wasn’t until the twilight of my career that I started getting checked out.

Here’s something new: servicemembers with moderate or severe TBIs have a 90% increased risk for brain cancer. Add onto that alcoholism, suicidal tendencies, and other ailments!

Thanks, DoD!

At the TBI Clinic, I did a smorgasbord of tests. I don’t remember all of them in detail (catching a trend?), but I do remember all the faces of the nurses/technicians.

“Yeah, your brain has seen 1500 days in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

I can do various things to combat TBIs. Yoga. Exercise. Memory exercises. Sleep 8 hours. Pain meds.

But slowing the fuck down is the critical component. There’s no rush. There is no need to tackle the world all at once. If I can get that through my thick skull, I can hopefully prevent another TBI.

The lovely Charity is currently sitting up the house to protect me from my own stupidity. Not only toddler-proof but combat veteran-proof! Poor thing.

Yet, it’s also a reminder that the war is not through with me yet. It will never be done with me.

All the 9-11 veteran generation did for this country. The constant deployments. Missing our families. Seeing our friends get killed. Taking lives and losing parts of our souls.

The effects on our bodies are the worst. And it’s not going to get better. It will get worse.

Suck it up? Drive on? No pain, no gain.

Yeah, bruh, I gave at the office.

Until next time. . .