I’m sitting outside a Farmer Boys downtown, waiting to sign into a zoom meeting. I’m here, and not home on my couch where the loud noises are cats and not trucks, because it happens to be across the street from the office where I will have hopefully my last nueropysch appointment.
It’s been a long process, starting with realizing what all was going on with me wasn’t just from “getting older” (yes you can laugh) or being “out of shape” (having been in effect a professional athlete, the shift to desk job cam with an existential crisis). Then was the long process of trying to get an appointment, and worrying and time and money. As it turns out, UCR treats us quite well, and the second was much less of a concern than I expected.
It took almost two years to get sorted what tests I might need (a lot of them) and get the appointments– in the proper order. Blood tests, psych referrals, neurology, MRI, nueropsych, and I’ll have some more blood tests next month.
I’ve had a horse fall on me thirteen times. The first time left me on a cane for a few months, the last knocked me out cold. Miraculously– or really, thanks to wearing helmets– I do not have degenerative brain disease. I have the tail end of a healing TBI, that over the last few years has been exasperated by what looks like low grade anemia (will find out for sure next month), the utterly predictable stress of graduate school (truly, as graduate studies go, I have been lucky), my own history, blood pressure irregularities, and my unwillingness to confront the damage I had done to myself.
Wear a helmet, see a doctor, take your meds, eat something, and don’t forget to take a break. Be kind to yourself.