I'm not a cyclist, but had the misfortune to suffer from a congenital defect called an arteriovenous malformation. Mine was what my neurosurgeon described as a "bleeder." My choices were to treat "conservatively" by doing nothing, treat agressively with surgery, or treat with radiation. In the case of radiation, I would have to wait 2 to 3 years to discover if the treatment worked. During those couple of years, my chances of hemoraghing again were substantially increased. (I also suffered from a seizure disorder to to the irritating nature of blood on neural connections). I chose surgery. I know it was the correct choice for me. It was the most logical choice if I didn't want to take the chance of dying before age 30.
My recovery was long, physically instead of the relearning that Bernie went through. I first made the mistake at returning to my commision salary job only 6 weeks after surgery during the holiday season. After that, I was out for a month and a half and returned at reduced hours. I am quite sure that I had some of the same problems that Bernie endured. Mine still persist because they weren't obvious to my physicians. My ability to remember names, books that I have read, selective memory of my past. Sometimes memories will return to me temporarily but when I try to retreive the information later, it is lost again. It has been 13 years since my surgery and I doubt that I will ever fully recover. My symptoms seem normal to anyone but me. (Anyone can forget what they went into a room for, or a name - I never did before).
Starting From Scratch
How a long, incremental recovery from a 'minor' head injury had a major impact on my life.
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I awoke not knowing where I was. I felt tired but perked up after seeing familiar faces around me. My eyes turned to a nurse who had started to speak.
"You're in Mass. General Hospital, Mr. Freytag. You were in an accident. Do you recognize these people?"
Funny thing, I didn't really hear her say I was in an accident. I was more interested in the second half of the statement. Of course I knew these people. They were my family and friends. Why would she ask such an obvious question?
I found out that I had been in a bike accident and suffered a head injury. I had fallen, fracturing my skull and knocking me unconscious. I don't recall how I fell, and the one person who found me didn't see it either. I also suffered a seizure and fairly extensive bleeding. My biggest mistake? I wasn't wearing a helmet.
At the time, I didn't see a reason to wear a helmet. People will say that's just stupid, and they're absolutely right. But I was 31 years old and felt like I was bulletproof. I just never thought I would get hurt. Unfortunately, I had just found out the hard way how wrong I was.
I was in Boston and training for a marathon at the time. I would ride my bike to work or around the Charles River as part of my cross-training. The day of my accident, my roommate knew something was wrong because my dog was not taken care of and my bike was gone for an unusually long period of time. He called my parents, who, in turn, called the police. I didn't have ID on me, so I was declared missing for about a day and a half. It wasn't until later the next day that they found out where I was—in the hospital. The terrible thoughts that entered everyone's minds, especially my parents', must have been horrendous. I simply can't imagine what they felt, and don't want to try.
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