Part three of a three-part series on multiple concussions. Read part two on Andrea and Laurie Cochrane here and part one on Prince George teen Brodie Needham here.
It's been almost a year since Tammy Adam last worked after a stray throw clocked her mid-run to home base.
"The lump from the back of my head was the same size as a baseball," said Adam of the May 2014 game in a recreation league. She was knocked out mid-run, fell forward and hit her face on a fence, creating a cut that needed three stitches.
"I thought I'd be (back) playing baseball in two days," said Adam, who was used to living a busy, active life as a coach, mother and social worker.
Very soon, it became clear she was in no shape to do much of anything, let alone work.
"I spent almost three months in my bedroom with blacked-out curtains and no light or noise. (I could handle) very little stimulation," said Adam, on her efforts to limit the searing headaches.
It was the 44-year-old's third concussion, but the previous two had been years before.
"Light and noise is intensified," said Adam, who works with the Ministry of Children and Family Development. "I couldn't even be outside. I had to have dark glasses on. I had the ringing in my ears, it was just incredible."
Her sleeping pattern changed, she couldn't focus, the pain was extreme. But it's the little things that really trip her up, like meaning to write a $100 cheque only to get a call to say she filled it out for $1.
Adam has tried acupuncture, yoga and massage therapy to lighten the symptoms and over time they have improved, but she is still worn out by small tasks.
Part of her role as a social worker involves assessing foster parents, reviewing files and asking the critical questions, something she no longer feels capable doing.
"With my job I've got to be able to follow a procedure," said Adam, but she had a hard time even filling out her claim for long-term disability, even with the help of friends.
"When I'm talking sometimes I can't find the words or I'll jumble the words and I'll get lost in conversations. That was really frustrating. I considerable myself to be a fairly highly tuned individual."
Now Adam is in an insurance appeals process where she must prove she's injured in order access long-term disability.
"They want to see something empirical that they can measure," said Adam, who should get an answer in May. "They really don't care about the symptoms."
But it's those symptoms that are the injury, Adam argues.
Getting support
Since August, Adam has leaned on the Brain Injury Group for support.
The Prince George-based society offers community rehabilitation and services to more than 300 survivors of brain injury every year.
"We're helping people move forward. We're helping people rebuild their lives," said Alison Hagreen, the group's executive director.
Many of their clients suffer from multiple concussions, Hagreen said.
"They're exponential because your brain is already compromised. If you can imagine all the little tiny wires in there, and some of them are broken and so the next time you whack that, those broken ones are already there, so now the symptoms are going to be way bigger."
Hagreen said more doctors are aware of the potential long-term impacts of concussions.
"We get referrals now from doctors on a regular basis. Twenty years ago that didn't happen, ever."
Adam's husband Shane Gauthier said it's been tough watching her struggle.
"What I (saw) happen was an A plus, plus personality, supermom, full tilt. She was the one that organized our entire house, kids events, everything. It's been a dramatic change."
But Gauthier, like Adam, is encouraged by her progress with the Brain Injured Group, which also meets with couples to talk through the stress it adds to relationships.
"I've seen the biggest leaps forward since she started here," he said.
Finally, Adam accepted that she couldn't be the person she was before the accident.
"For me, resting is not really something I'm good at and so I kept trying to fight it," said Adam. Not used to sitting still, she instead looked for solutions as a way to get better.
"I think that may have probably set me back a bit, if I had... been less stubborn, maybe," she said trailing off. "Who knows?"
In reality, rest is the answer for many experiencing such extreme symptoms. Most people with concussions recover within a matter of weeks, but about 10 per cent will have persistent symptoms.
"Getting a diagnosis of post concussion syndrome is fairly rare unless you're a high level athlete," said Hagreen, noting that it's rare MRI or CAT scans will show any structural damage in the brain.
"It's all about symptomatology."
A new identity
The weekly support group has helped Adam accept her new reality, especially as she hears from other people who have similar experiences.
One woman spoke of being a parent while trying to manage recovery.
"I just started bawling too because when you're kids are demanding, you can't just say 'I'm topped out here. I'll talk to you next week,'" said Adam, who has two kids. "It's really tough."
Another person used a handful of spoons as an analogy for living with a brain injury, one Adam has adopted.
"You got eight spoons. One of the spoons is for when you get up. Another spoon is for when you have a shower," said Adam, rattling off menial tasks. "I thought getting up was a given. I didn't think that lost a spoon, let alone making the kids lunch, getting them off to school then coming home and getting ready. I've already dropped four spoons."
Even so, it's difficult to explain to people what it's like.
"They just think you should be better by now. Believe me if I could be better, I would be, but I'm not.
"I may never be better back to the way I was."
Hagreen said part of recovery is letting go of who you were.
"Can you imagine? It's your brain that tells you who you are and now the way you always were is different. Getting used to that whole new way, that's huge," she said.
"A lot of survivors will say, 'It's not about getting to be who you were before the injury, it's about figuring who you are now and how I can make that me the best I can be.'"
A brain injury is forever, Hagreen said.
"It doesn't get cured, it gets better."
