Concussions in sport: I stopped playing after sustaining head knocks
The doctor said the blows brought on a form of epilepsy. What advice do I now give my sport-mad kids?
Iwas 63 not out and batting beautifully, flaying Weston Creek fifths all over Rivett Oval. Cut shots, pull shots, mighty heaves down town. I was 16 years old and surely on the way to a hundred. And then they brought on the Angel. He was quite a bit quicker than his pals.
The Angel (known so for his surname) bowled a half-tracker that I shaped to hook. There followed a meaty “thock” not of leather on willow but rather Kookaburra six-stitcher connecting flush with right temporal bone. And, helmet-free, down onto the synthetic wicket I went.
I got up pretty quickly, though, dazed more than injured – a bit of a sore head, but I knew what was going on. I thought I could have kept on batting but umpires and captains advised I retire hurt, so off I toddled. I pulled off my gloves, sat on a bench and heard the chirp of bird song that began playing in my head. I sang along with it while metallic spit filled my mouth. And that was my last memory until I woke in hospital the next day.
I’d had a seizure. Went all blue and purple, thrashed about. My poor old team-mates were in all sorts. They bundled me into a V8 Commodore and sped up Hindmarsh Drive to hospital, pouring water on me, cradling my neck, doing their best as good people do.
Twenty years later, another one. I was punched by a drunk, hard, on the top of the head. More stunned than concussed, I was able to walk home, where I sat on the couch and had a seizure watching TV. I awoke up surrounded by police and ambos, concerned flatmates. And it was up to hospital again.
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