concussions

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Kaylee Dufresne, a second-year Panthers forward from Orleans, Ont., sustained a concussion in the team’s last game and will be out this weekend.

Panthers seeking key points tonight at home, Sunday on road
http://www.theguardian.pe.ca/sports/hoc ... ad-164883/

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Sunday, the Big Green played with three forward lines to Maine’s four. Doing so on back-to-back days takes its toll, said Marsh, noting the careers of senior Brooke Ahbe and sophomore Sara Lopez-Wheeler have ended because of injury and that sophomore Rose Falzone is likely sidelined for another month.

“This team does everything we ask but it has to try so hard,” Marsh said. “Some of our players are just exhausted.”

A Work In Progress: Dartmouth Women’s Hockey Struggles in Loss to Maine
http://www.vnews.com/Dartmouth-vs-Maine ... y-13490970

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Sam
"I hit my head Friday during hockey and it’s only gotten worse so my mother called doctors and there pretty sure I have a concussion and I have an appointment Thursday but they don’t want me going to school I have so much work already to make up ugh no hockey either."
https://mobile.twitter.com/mm_crew_edit ... 9795084288

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Chloe Karr
"We played UWW all the time when I played women’s hockey. I have at least 1 concussion with their name on it."
https://mobile.twitter.com/bonjourmiett ... 8965662720

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Why hockey's concussion problem won't be solved by better helmets

Shake an egg hard enough and the yolk will scramble despite the shell remaining intact.

...It’s widely believed that rotational acceleration, where the head turns instead of moving front to back, is particularly dangerous. Going back to the jello comparison, Bayly says if you slap the mold on the top, the shock will ripple to the bottom, and bounce back, the jello no worse for wear. But consider what would happen if you were to pick up the plate the mold was on, and twist it like it’s a steering wheel and you’re about to miss your right turn. You’d have quite a mess on your hands. If engineers could figure out a way to stabilize the neck to prevent the violent swings of the head that scramble brains within the skull, says Ghajar, maybe we could prevent concussions.

...W.H. Earles, writing in the Journal of the American Medical Association, said that, “Every case of recent head injury, however trivial it may appear, should, we believe, be treated with the greatest consideration, lest damage to hidden and important structures escape our attention, thus leaving a foundation for future trouble which too often is irreparable.”

Earles wrote that in 1903.

Everything we know about concussions is wrong
https://qz.com/1136683/everything-we-kn ... #pq=Ahy7ue

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Youth Hockey Players’ Brains Show Concussion Effects Even After Returning to Play
Published on November 22, 2017
http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-image-y ... ge17729141
Teen hockey players may be cleared to return to the ice too soon after experiencing a concussion, researchers suggest, in a study published recently in Neurology.

MRI scans of teen hockey players who experienced a concussion revealed to the research team that changes to the brain resulting from a concussion persist for at least 3 months—long after other symptoms (such as thinking and memory) resolve and the players are cleared to return to the game.

Current clinical tests used to judge an athlete’s recovery could be improved, says senior researcher Ravi Menon, in a media release from HealthDay.

“Clearly those tests are not very sensitive. Basically, the standard concussion guidelines would indicate it’s OK to go back to play, but the MRI changes show the brain is still damaged and still trying to compensate,” adds Menon, a professor and chair of functional and molecular imaging with the University of Western Ontario’s Schulich School of Medicine and Dentistry.

In the study, researchers investigated involved 17 Canadian boys, aged 11 to 14, who sustained a concussion while playing in Bantam hockey leagues.

Each player underwent standard thinking, memory and balance testing following his concussion. The boys also had MRI brain scans—most had one right after the concussion and another 3 months later.

All the players’ scores on thinking and memory tests returned to normal before the 3-month mark, ranging from 10 to 46 days.

But the 3-month MRIs showed they still had signs of widespread damage to their white matter. The white matter serves as the wiring that allows different regions of the brain to communicate, Menon notes, the release continues.

The researchers also found other areas of the brain trying to create new connections, apparently in an attempt to re-establish communication impeded by the white matter damage, Menon explains.

The results call for better clinical tests that reveal whether the damaged white matter has fully re-established communications.

In the meantime, parents should consider keeping their kid out of play a little longer following a concussion, Menon suggests. There’s some concern that brain damage can stack up in a youngster who receives additional knocks to the head while recovering from concussion.

“Probably the more pragmatic approach is to not rush a kid who is 12 years old back into a game the minute their clinical score is normalized,” Menon states. “There’s no multimillion-dollar athletic contract on the line at this point. Give them a chance to rest and recover, and then ease them back in.”

[Source: HealthDay]

http://www.ptproductsonline.com/2017/11 ... ning-play/

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Ebba Strandberg Injury

She just wanted to be spared the debilitating headaches that left her lying on the floor of her dorm room at the University of Maine. That was how she was the most comfortable position.

“I just wanted to live a normal life again. That was all that mattered. Hockey was the last thing on my mind,” said Strandberg, a sophomore defenseman from Kalmar, Sweden.

Strandberg was suffering from a condition known as a “sagging brain.”

She had sustained a lower back injury during her freshman season and returned to Sweden last December to have surgery. She had played in nine games and had three assists.

During the surgery, the sac around her spinal cord was perforated, which caused fluid to leak into the surrounding tissue.

Three months later, the loss of pressure in the sac caused by the leak resulted in terrible headaches that left her unable to even go to class.

“She was in a lot of pain,” said sophomore defenseman Brittany Colton, who was Strandberg’s roommate. “I knew it was really bad but I don’t think that, in the moment, I really, truly realized how bad it was.”

“We tried to lighten the mood to take her mind off it,” added Colton.

“It was really scary,” said sophomore defenseman Brittany Kucera, a close friend of Strandberg. “She was in pain for almost six months. She couldn’t get out of her bed. Her whole morale was down. It was hard to see (her like that). We did as much as we could to help her with that.”

Strandberg flew back to Sweden but had to lie down in the airplane to be able to withstand the pain.

She went right to the hospital and the problem was eventually diagnosed, resulting in another surgery to close the hole.

The surgery, which took place on May 27, lasted eight hours.

“It was real tough on me,” said Strandberg. “I was super sore afterward. And they gave me a lot of drugs which affected how I felt.”

The headaches finally went away and she began thinking about resuming her hockey career at UMaine.

“Once I started to feel good, I realized I could play again. I set up a plan with my coach and trainer. I hadn’t been able to work out for four or five months,” said Strandberg. “I wanted to come back and play hockey with my friends. That’s all I wanted.”

Because she had missed so much class time, she had to take summer classes to maintain her eligibility.

She said she really appreciated the support she received from her teammates and the coaching staff during her ordeal. She also praised Cristina Kerluke, the assistant director of academic support. who outlined a plan that enabled Strandberg to fulfill her academic requirements after she regained her health.

Reichenbach called her return amazing and said her health, not her hockey career, was everyone’s primary concern.

“We just wanted her to be able to have a normal life again,” said Reichenbach.

‘I will definitely not take things for granted’: UMaine hockey defenseman playing again after spinal cord injury
Read more: https://bangordailynews.com/2017/12/04/ ... rd-injury/

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Stillwater's Maya Yokanovich

Maya Yokanovich
It was a disappointing loss against a highly regarded team, but there were some positives for a young Stillwater team. In addition to Knox, Ava Yokanovich was the only other senior on the ice for Stillwater. Senior Lauren Gella did not play due to illness and Maya Yokanovich is sidelined because of a concussion.

Knox makes 41 saves, but Ponies fall to fifth-ranked Forest Lake
Read more: https://www.hometownsource.com/stillwat ... 0ba5e.html

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Two-thirds of children with concussions not receiving medical follow-ups

In a study that looked at data over a 10-year period, York University researchers, in collaboration with Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO) and the Institute for Clinical Evaluative Sciences (ICES), found that more than two-thirds of youth and children with an acute concussion do not seek medical follow-up or clearance as recommended by current international concussion guidelines.

Two-thirds of children with concussions not receiving medical follow-ups
Read more: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2 ... 114957.htm

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Hockey Concussions and the Physics of Motion

So, when two players collide, where does all of that kinetic energy go?

First, let's look at two billiard balls, with the exact same mass, shape and rigid structure. When two balls collide on the table, we can ignore the mass variable and just look at velocity. If the ball in motion hits another ball that is stationary, then the ball at rest will receive more kinetic energy from the moving ball so that the total energy is conserved. This will send the stationary ball rolling across the table while the first ball almost comes to a stop as it has transferred almost all of its stored energy.

Unfortunately, when human bodies collide, they don't just bounce off of each other. This "inelastic" collision results in the transfer of kinetic energy being absorbed by bones, tissues and organs.

The player with the least stored energy will suffer the most damage from the hit, especially if that player has less "body cushion" to absorb the impact.

Bigger Hockey Players Causing More Concussions
Read more: https://www.livescience.com/3039-bigger ... sions.html


To calculate your own real world energy loss scenario, visit the Exploratorium's Science of Hockey Calculator
Try this: http://www.exploratorium.edu/hockey/checking2.html

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What the opioid epidemic looks like on the screen of a brain scan

I interpret electroencephelogram tests. And what I’m seeing is deeply disturbing.

Watching the opioid epidemic on the placid yellow of a computer screen has filled me with despair. (istockphoto)

By Sandra Block December 1
Sandra Block is a novelist and a practicing neurologist in Buffalo, New York.
I recently received the sad news that a colleague of mine had lost his daughter. Reading the obituary, I found out the cause. It was not shrouded in code, like “died suddenly” or “unexpectedly.” Her parents spelled it right out: She was a victim of her addiction to opioids.

Her funeral was jarring, full of young people, friends in their 20s. They were not joking over fond memories or talking about a good long life; they were in shock. At the front of the receiving line, I met her father, my colleague. What could I say? I hugged him. I told him it was brave to put the truth in the newspaper, not to hide it as some shameful fact. And he nodded, his eyes desperate. “I wanted to be honest. Because, you know, we didn’t know how to help her. No one could. We tried everything. Nothing worked.”

As I walked out of the funeral home into a bright, sunny afternoon, it struck me that she could have been a case I was reading, yet another electroencephalogram (EEG) that I would sigh over and write my report on. As a neurologist, I interpret these readouts every day — diagnostic tests that measure the electricity of the brain. And for the past few years, I’ve been watching the results change as the opioid epidemic has taken its toll.

What the EKG is to the heart, the EEG is to the brain. Scalp electrodes translate neurological activity into waves, cerebral squiggles that show how well our brain machines are working. Rhythms in alpha, beta and delta reflect our states of mind: awake, asleep, seizing, sick or dead. A decade ago, neurologists like me would study these sketches on paper; now, as with everything, we read them on a computer. From the comfort of my office, I read studies from multiple hospitals, often miles away from the patients, and interpret the results to assist in diagnosis.

There is a certain beauty in the electricity of the brain. While awake, a waxing and waning sinusoidal rhythm predominates from the back of the brain. During sleep, faster beta rhythms called spindles appear, as well as larger complexes over the center of the brain called vertex waves. In a seizure, the brain produces an electrical storm, sharp waves or spikes that can spread to the whole cortex. The sick brain tends to slow down. The anoxic brain, gone too long without oxygen, looks different. The EEG may show a “burst-suppression” pattern — where brain cells fire in fruitless overactivity, then fade again — or only flat lines. This is the intra-cerebral silence of brain death.

Seeing this is part of the job, and neurologists’ medical training instills in us a certain emotional detachment so we can look at unfortunate, but routine, results: an elderly man with the right side of his EEG slowed from a stroke, or a woman with dementia who is brain-dead after a heart attack. We are electrical beings, after all, and eventually, we run out. Still, we’re also human, with brains wired for empathy, and sometimes I can’t help but feel the sadness radiating through the flat lines of these EEGs. The hardest ones are the unexpected cases: A toddler with a flat rhythm after two hours in a pool. A teenager with a low voltage slowing after hanging from a light fixture in her bedroom. Luckily, these cases are rare.

But lately, thanks to America’s opioid crisis, the tragedies are coming at a faster pace. In New York state, where I practice, overdose deaths involving opioids ticked up from 1,604 per 100,000 people in 2013 to 2,185 in 2015. In 2010, the rate was less than half that. The young make up a significant portion of those affected: In 2010, New York lost 858 people per 100,000 between 18 and 44 to opioid-related overdoses; by 2015, the number had risen to 1,291. In the past five years or so, I have begun to see more burst-suppression patterns and flat waves not just in the elderly but in 24-year-olds. In 19-year-olds. In 15-year-olds. I’m seeing brain death in people who haven’t lived their lives yet, whose brains haven’t even fully developed, brains that are literally killing themselves for drugs.

Neurologically speaking, opioids are crafty. They turn the brain’s own electricity against it, rewiring connections in an endless feedback loop for more drugs. They trick the brain into a death trap, as users chase the chemical bliss from the drugs with more drugs. Acute opioid usage (that is, the high itself) translates into slowing on the EEG.Usually, such an effect is transient, carefully monitored by an anesthesiologist during surgery, for instance. But when the patient becomes the anesthesiologist, the cycle can become lethal.

Opioids suppress pain, but they can also suppress breathing. If an overdose is caught in time, Narcan can reverse the effects, taking the toxin out of the system and awakening the patient. Otherwise, the opioids overwhelm the brain’s respiratory center, causing cardiac arrest. Reviving a patient may restart the heart, but if the brain has been starved of oxygen, the brain machine no longer works. This is the opioid epidemic as seen through the screen of an EEG.

How can we ever stop this, when life is painful and these drugs literally kill pain?

I’m a neurologist, not an addiction doctor. I don’t pretend to have the training to treat these patients. I am just examining the brain damage after the fact, watching the waves slow down and go flat on the placid yellow of a computer screen. But even from miles away, I realize that those electrodes are attached to a scalp, to a head, to a person someone loved. A person like my colleague’s daughter.

Someday, we will have an answer. Someone smarter than I am will come up with a way to short-circuit the brain back to its native and wondrous electrical state, so it won’t crave the drugs that will kill it. I await that day, when I won’t pull up so many young birthdays in my readings, watching waves that do not dance, witnessing only the flat lines of profound and final electro-cerebral silence.

Twitter: @block_sandra

https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/ ... story.html

[goldy313]

Ugh..... she sites a figure of under 1% as statistical evidence.

Credibility is out the window, this an opinion piece citing one detrimental outcome out of thousands. Chance . I hate crap like this becausem scientificly it throws science out.....i would bet alcohol alone triplestnis number.

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"You go in, you lie to the doctors, you tell them what you need to say to get back out there, you’re the only one that knows what’s going on upstairs in your head, it’s not something a doctor can see. They put you through the protocol and you focus to make sure you pass every protocol you can. All of us, not just me, we’re all hockey players; we have that nature of wanting to play, wanting to be there for the team. We don’t want to miss games and we push ourselves so hard to make sure we’re not missing games. I would come in and try to act normal just to get by and I’d go home and keep everything to myself. You tell everyone you’re feeling fine, but deep down you know there’s something wrong with you." A. Shaw -

...So how do we help? What is the next step?

For starters, we talk about it. Simply acknowledging players as actual human beings, with actual human emotions is a key component to all of this. There is nothing wrong with feeling scared to let down your teammates, your unit or even fans.

There is, however, something wrong with hiding those fears until they collectively eat away at you and potentially lead to depression, risk prevalent behavior or ultimately suicidal behavior.

Many have said it before, and likely more eloquently than I can, but as a society and as sports fans we need to learn to separate being tough from being self-destructive. Playing through pain is tough, it’s gritty and it’s a part of why I love hockey.

Playing through devastating head injuries, hiding concussions or emotional distress from teammates is not tough. It takes more courage to admit feelings of anxiety or fear, and we all need to work to make it easier for those suffering to do so.

...In the end, sometimes the best thing for the team, is to simply do what is best for yourself. It’s critical to remember that hockey players, for all their talent and drive, are still just human beings, human beings who suffer anxiety and depression like anyone else.

Asking for help is a sign of courage, and it’s crucial that we as fans start applauding those that have the strength to do so.

And hey, if you’re reading this, don’t be afraid to reach out to those friends you haven’t heard from in a while. It may mean more than you think.


Eating Their Own: On The Hidden Risks Within Hockey’s Warrior Culture
Is hockey’s culture of toughness worth the hidden costs?
Read more: https://www.stanleycupofchowder.com/201 ... sd-tbi-cte

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Sub-concussive blows can cause brain injury

“If the development of long term problems is due to multiple sub-concussive hits to the brain then the concussion recognition protocols are useless. I would argue people who come off with concussion are protected from long-term problems. People with no symptoms are those who may be in trouble.”

Sub-concussive blows can cause brain injury, says Trinity research
Damage was suffered despite every player examined being free of concussion symptom
Read more: https://www.irishtimes.com/sport/rugby/ ... -1.3245891

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Post-Concussion Syndrome

Speedskater Brittany Bowe
For those of you new to my journey to the 2018 Olympics, I should start by explaining that I suffered a concussion last season that led me to the decision to end my race season early and focus on my health. A number of challenges arose after my injury. After showing signs of vestibular dysfunction for a prolonged period, I was diagnosed with Post-Concussion Syndrome – not uncommon after sustaining a head injury. Another issue, which isn’t as common, is called “POTS.”

I was diagnosed with POTS back in October 2016 after having fainted on more than one occasion, and little did I know this relatively unknown diagnosis would become a daunting part of my everyday life. POTS stands for postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, and essentially means the body does not control blood pressure or heart rate as it should after you stand up. This can make you feel dizzy, lightheaded and lead to fainting.

Speedskater Brittany Bowe After Concussion: “I Wasn’t Sure Returning To Sport Would Even Be An Option”
Read more: https://www.teamusa.org/News/2017/Octob ... -An-Option

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Sarah Renberg

Sarah Renberg is an 18 year old ice hockey player from the Washington DC area. Sarah has been battling post-concussion syndrome since 2014 after sustaining multiple concussions while playing for the Washington Pride Junior Women's Hockey Club.

Concussion #1 occurred on Jan. 31, 2014. Sarah was hit hard from behind and went headfirst into the boards. She was slow to get up but finished the game and played another before taking another awkward hit that alerted one of her fellow teammates to encourage to sit out. This injury required close to 6 months of rehab for vision and vestibular problems before she was ready to play at an elite level again.

Concussion #2 came only 97 days after becoming symptom free after the first head injury. This time, Sarah took a hit from an opponent that caused her to hit her head on the ice in a whip-lash effect. This second concussion caused Sarah's occipital nerve to become inflamed and she also injured the ligaments in her neck. In addition, she developed postural orthostatic trachycardia syndrome along with the more common vision and vestibular struggles. She has been in intensive rehab since December 2014 and has traveled extensively seeking various treatments. During our conversation we discuss the treatment options that have been most effective during her recovery. We also talk about helpful suggestions for student athletes who need to complete academic requirements.

65 : Redefining "Tough" One Goal At A Time w/ The Headway Foundation's Sarah Renberg
Read more and Listen to the podcast at: http://www.headsntales.org/podcast/65


In each weekly Heads 'N Tales podcast, Kevin Saum brings you an inspiring athlete story of perseverance or expert knowledge in the field of sports health and safety. Just like flipping a coin, you can't control what happens to you in sports or in life, but you can always control how you respond. This is Kevin's response after suffering a traumatic brain injury in a high school football game.

Head ’N Tales: Talking Sports Injury Rehab, Prevention, Perseverance & Concussions
Website also includes podcasts with Molly Tissenbaum and Paige Decker.

99 : When Post-Concussion Syndrome is On a Breakaway w/ Former Harvard Hockey Goalie, Molly Tissenbaum
Read more and Listen to the podcast at: http://www.headsntales.org/podcast/99

19 : Paige Decker, "When the Wind Blows Hard and the Sky is Black - Ducks Fly Together"
Read more and Listen to the podcast at: http://www.headsntales.org/podcast/19

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Head impact data

Time to collect head impact data in hockey?

"Athletes at lower levels experienced a greater percentage of their high magnitude impacts in practice.”

Head Impact Exposure in Youth Football: Comparing Age- and Weight-Based Levels of Play
Read more: http://online.liebertpub.com/doi/full/1 ... .2016.4812

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New pediatric brain injuries study

Children who sustained traumatic brain injuries may experience psychological effects like anxiety, phobias and depression more than a decade later, researchers say.

“The study suggests that brain injury is in some way related to longer-term anxiety symptoms, while previously it was thought that brain injury only leads to short-term effects,” said lead author Michelle Albicini in an email.

The anxiety may have many causes, including actual brain damage or the experience of living in an anxious family environment after the injury, said Albicini, a researcher at Monash University School of Psychological Sciences in Melbourne, Australia.

Albicini’s team reports in the Journal of Head Trauma Rehabilitation that children with moderately severe brain injuries and females in general were at the greatest risk for long-term psychological effects compared with boys and children who had milder brain injuries.

Childhood brain injury tied to adult anxiety, depression
Read more: http://www.reuters.com/article/us-healt ... SKBN18Y2S5

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Claudia Black

Over the course of my hockey career, I have received a total of 4 concussions that all occurred during hockey games. My style of play growing up has always been pretty gritty, even though I’m not the biggest kid on the ice. I have never been afraid to go hard into the corners and battle against anyone. There is technically no body checking in women’s hockey, however, there is still a fair amount of body contact that occurs. Unfortunately, this “tough mentality” I have did not work out the best for me.

My most recent concussion is by far the worst one I have received out of all of them. On November 29th, 2015, I had an away game against Whitby; I was in mid-season with the Toronto Aeros at the time. You couldn’t have asked for a better game, we were up 7-0 towards the end of the second period against a good team, and dominated pretty much the whole game. The puck came around the boards and a girl on the opposing team threw a dirty elbow to my head which knocked me on the ground. After this happened I knew something wasn’t right. Once I got back to the bench, I felt very confused, dizzy, nauseous and I had a bad headache. Failing to listen to my body and these signs, I decided that I was fine to go back out for another shift. Fortunately, when I went back out I did not get hit or anything. Once I went back to the locker room I knew something was very wrong and did not play the third period. After the game I was not able to drive home, I was extremely dizzy and nauseous, even to the point where I vomited. I ended up spending the night at a teammate’s house and noticed that my symptoms were gradually getting worse throughout the night.

With the concussions I received before, my recovery did not last longer than about 3 months so I expected this concussion to last roughly the same. It was not the case at all. I was told to stay off my phone, bright screens of any sort, isolate myself in a dark room with minimal noise, as well as get plenty of rest; the typical things you are told to do right after you receive a concussion. Looking back on my previous concussions, I can honestly say I could have done a better job following the protocol directly after a concussion, but since I was able to recover so quickly from those previous concussions, I did not take this concussion as serious as I should have. I got my rest and isolated myself from bright lights and noise but I underestimated how not following the protocol would affect me. It seemed as if once I got this concussion, my life completely went downhill.

...My advice to anyone who is experiencing concussion symptoms is that you need to trust your body, be honest with yourself and what you’re feeling. If you do not follow the protocol or the recommendations that have been suggested, you are only going to hurt yourself long term.

This is Claudia, here is her Story.
Read more: https://birthmarked.blog/2017/09/12/thi ... her-story/

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Darcy Henderson

When Mackenzie asked me to write a piece for this blog my first reaction was that I was so proud of her, as I truly believe this is something of importance. My second reaction, however, was that in some sense I didn’t feel worthy to write a piece for this, that my concussion stories seemed privileged in comparison to what her and my other teammates have suffered through.

I have had 5 diagnosed concussions; which when I tell people their face always tells me that 5 is a decent number.

...For me, concussions were made to be a normal thing — a verified risk — in the hockey environment I grew up in. Concussions were just a waiting game for everyone. Now that I am taking neuroscience courses at University and being exposed to different environments, am I aware of this warped sense of thinking. There should be nothing normal about this injury. The game isn’t going to change but our treatments and diagnosis’s can continue to improve. We can take all the steps from our end to help prevent such injuries.

...An injury to the brain is serious, as we are nothing without our brains. I think most people will agree with that, however, it is easy to be blinded by other forces and not let that statement feel relevant to us. We often like to put ourselves as the exception, feeling that nothing will get to that point or happen to us. The truth is we don’t know. We don’t know when the next career ending hit will take place or what symptoms may effect us 30 years from now. A concussion is an injury to our most vital organ and no game will ever have the power to be more important than that.

This is Darcy, here is her Story.
Read more: https://birthmarked.blog/2017/09/09/thi ... -is-story/

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KENDRA FISHER
GOALIE / CANADA WOMEN'S NATIONAL HOCKEY TEAM
Sometimes around the holidays, I think about the times my father had to drug me just to get me home for Christmas.

This is embarrassing to admit, but that was our arrangement. With my mind the way it was, it was the only way to get me into the car.

You see, when I was 20 years old the thought of leaving my apartment in Toronto to drive three hours to my family’s house in Kincardine, Ontario, was terrifying to me. So terrifying that thinking about it would cause my heart to race. The room would start spinning and my arms would go numb. It was hard to breathe. Anytime I had a panic attack it felt like I was dying. It was like my body was screaming, Leaving is not safe!

So every Christmas for three years, my father would drive to my place when I was “ready” to leave. I would swallow an antinausea drug called Gravol, which would make me drowsy. When I got so drowsy that I was about to pass out, Dad would lead me outside to the back of his van, where he’d already removed the seats and put down a mattress with a set of blankets. I’d go to sleep and wake up in Kincardine, where I’d open presents with my family and otherwise stay cooped up in my old bedroom for a few days watching movies.

I had to find some way to distract myself from the chaotic thoughts in my brain.

The fear.

The sadness.

The constant hopelessness.

I was exhausted. And yet many nights I was too anxious to sleep. I felt pathetic.

Some people who don’t understand my story like to make assumptions about how I became this way — how I lost my Olympic dreams and nearly everything else I used to live for.

They’d say things like, Well, you were a goalie playing at an elite level — with all the stress and the pressure. That must be it.

Sure, I was one of the best goalies in Canada. By this time, I had won multiple national championships with Team Ontario and the Toronto Aeros. I’d been selected for the talent pool for the national team. I had scholarships to several different universities in both the U.S. and Canada. There were a lot of people who expected me to put on that Team Canada jersey and bring home an Olympic gold medal. I was one of them.

So there was a lot of pressure. And I just cracked, right?

But something was off — and had been off for a long time.



When I was four years old there was a part of me that was a carefree, strong, outgoing little girl who was completely immersed in sports. I wanted to try every sport I could find: baseball, basketball, soccer, you name it.

Then one day after figure skating practice, I was sitting in the bleachers watching my older brother play hockey and, with all of my four-year-old wisdom, said:

“When I grow up to be a boy, I want to be a hockey player!”

And so I did—become a hockey player, I mean.

When I started playing, I quickly became a goalie. I discovered that the goaltender spends the most time on the ice. (Who doesn’t want to play more?) I was tall for my age and I could cover the crease when I lay across the ice. I wanted to be my team’s hero. I Iiked pressure. I still like it.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that strong, outgoing little girl when it came to bedtime.

Throughout my childhood my parents had this routine for my brother and I. My mother and father would stand in the hallway between my bedroom and my brother’s and say a prayer.

“Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.”

If I should die…

I was scared that if I died in my sleep, or if my parents died in theirs, then we wouldn’t know we loved each other.

Just tell me you love me, I would think every night.

Tell me you’ll see me in the morning.

I’d prod my parents to say the words I needed to hear.

“So you’ll wake me up before school?”

They’d say yes. And then they’d give me a hug and I could finally rest.

My fear of death was obsessive, and as I got older, it grew into something much worse.

In high school, my days were full of sports and I loved it. I had all the seasons covered. I was on the baseball team, the tennis team and, of course, the hockey team. While most teenagers were hanging out or going to parties, I was either at a game or a practice. People knew me as a confident athlete. I didn’t have the guts to tell them what was really happening in my body.

But I’ll tell you.

Picture your worst fear — let’s say it’s bees. There’s one crawling on your arm and you’re starting to sweat, praying it won’t sting you.

And you know that feeling of when you lean back in your chair too far and you know you’re going to fall? Your heart starts pounding out of your chest.

Or picture yourself running on a treadmill with a straw in your mouth and your nose plugged. You can’t get enough oxygen and a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You feel as if you’re about to faint.

That’s how I lived 90% of the time.

As a teenager, I would have those sorts of episodes every single day. And the worst part of it was, I didn’t understand why. There was no trauma to speak of. No tangible trigger.

Some days I would wake up in a panic. I’d be afraid to go to bed because I was so scared of being scared the next morning. My bouts of panic were then met with days of exhaustion, and a deep, inexplicable sadness.

It was a constant battle, but I hid it from the world with sports, school and everyday life. Nobody knew. I mean nobody. Not even my parents.

I mean, how could I explain something that I didn’t even understand?


“I’D HAVE A COUPLE OF DRINKS AND START TO REALIZE THAT I WASN’T FEELING THOSE THINGS AS MUCH”
Kendra Fisher discusses using alcohol as a coping mechanism. (1:07)

Hockey was my safe space and it gave me that sense of accomplishment. When I was having a good game, it was 60 minutes of, That’s my crease, that’s my space. And nothing else existed in that space, not even my problems. Hockey was something I could succeed at even if I was at my worst.

But I needed something more, and I was seeking it in all the wrong places.

Like at a funeral.

I found that I was strangely drawn to tragedy. Kincardine is a small town, so if somebody died, you probably knew them in some loose way, if not closely. It wasn’t weird to show up at their wake — even if you hadn’t known them well.

I remember when one kid from my high school — who I had barely known — was killed in a car and I ended up going to his funeral. Only now do I understand that I had wanted to be around people who were in as much pain as I was. I wanted an excuse for people to hug me. To tell them that I was there for them, and for them to tell me that they were there for me, too.

Just tell me you love me.

When I was 17, I was hanging out with one of my teammates when she said something that I’ll never forget.

“You know I just… I often wish that something horrible would happen to my parents so that everybody would want to take care of me and be there for me.”

And you know what? I got it …

I hated that it made sense to me.


PHOTO BY THE CAPE BRETON POST



In 1999, right before my 20th birthday, I received an invite to a Team Canada camp in Calgary. This one was special. The players they picked at the end of those two weeks would travel to play in the Four Nations Cup.

I was on the brink of realizing my dreams, and yet I was terrified. Things had gotten so much worse.

I need help.

Just weeks before the camp, I called my parents.

“Mom, Dad …” I told them everything.

At the time, I had moved to a private school in Toronto for my senior year, and I was also playing in what used to be Canada’s National Women’s Hockey League (NWHL). I graduated. Found an apartment. Was living a very independent life.

But, hockey was becoming less and less of a safe space for me, and I developed this deep fear of being alone. When my teammates skated away from me to follow the play, my heart would beat louder.

Faster.

I was convinced that when the play made it back to me, I would be dead.

I had to have someone with me 24/7. If a friend was over and had to use the washroom, I’d follow them down the hallway because I was just too scared to be by myself and my thoughts.

Was I dying?

My stomach was in knots.

Some days it felt like I was having a heart attack. One day I took myself to the E.R. The doctors said things were fine, but they sent me to see specialists just in case.

The cardiologist told me my heart was fine.

The neurologist told me my head was fine.

The gastrointestinal specialist told me my digestive tract was fine.

Everybody was telling me I was fine.

Suck it up.

And that’s what I did as I flew off to Calgary. But I needed my parents to be at the airport in case I couldn’t convince myself to get on a plane.

When I called them, they were nothing but supportive. They wanted to do whatever they could to support my dream. Together we devised a plan.



Dad left for Calgary a day before I did, to be there to meet me when I arrived. Mom would come later after getting me safely on the plane. They stayed in their own hotel room during camp. I couldn’t risk one of my coaches or teammates seeing them because no one brings chaperones to camp. I was afraid/terrified that if anyone saw them they would know that something was wrong.

After I faked my way through the first two-hour practice, I found a stairwell and broke down. Then I washed my face and went to off-ice training. And then I found a bathroom stall and broke down again.

By that night I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. My roommate would probably see me freaking out in our dorm room. I couldn’t hide anymore.

I went into the coach’s office in the arena and told her that my grandma, who lived in Calgary, had been rushed to the hospital and I wanted to make sure my family was O.K. I lied through my teeth:

“I’ll be back in the morning,” I said.

I spent that night in my dad’s hotel room in pieces. I couldn’t breathe.

What’s wrong with me?

I didn’t sleep a wink.

The next morning, I did go back to the arena. But this time I told my coaches the truth. I told them why I had to go home.

They asked me if it would make any difference if they told me that I had already made Team Canada.

It was one of the most memorable moments of my life … but not because it’s one that I want to remember.

“No,” I said.

It didn’t help at all.

What the hell have I just done?

I just gave up on the only thing I had ever wanted.

I found out five days after I left camp that the national team coaches wanted to try to help me. They had booked me an appointment with a sports psychologist. I have to admit, I was kind of insulted.

I don’t need a shrink. I’m not crazy.

I remember my first appointment with the psychologist. It was the most awkward staring contest of my life. I didn’t know what to say. But I knew that the doctor reported to Team Canada, and I had to convince her that I was O.K.

So I told her about the car accident that had injured my back when I was in high school. We did some serious therapy after that, and after two weeks, I was cured. She gave me a pass and I was free to go.

Then I realized how sick I really was.

I couldn’t eat. My stomach was so upset it couldn’t process food. I dropped from 160 pounds to 120. The insomnia ensued and I couldn’t leave the apartment without my body revolting.

On January 3, 2000, I called my parents in Kincardine. My mother answered the phone and I could barely get out the words.

“I’m not going to be here tomorrow.”

It wasn’t even so much that I wanted to die. It was just that I actually couldn’t imagine making it through one more night. You know how you think about tomorrow and you have this playlist of the things that are going to happen? Like, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, or I’m meeting so-and-so for coffee tomorrow.

I just couldn’t see it. “Tomorrow” didn’t exist. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t picture waking up the next day.

My mother rushed to Toronto and somehow forced me to see my old psychologist. That day, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety, severe panic disorder, agoraphobia (a fear of leaving safe spaces), obsessive-compulsive disorder and clinical depression.

My mother sat in my doctor’s office as I lay on the couch. She wanted to know how she could help.

“You pretty much need to forget everything you know about your daughter,” my therapist said. ”It’s like you need to go back to when she was a three-year-old who relied on her parents to get through each day.”

This can’t be me. I just made Team Canada.

Along with promising to take my meds, I had to commit myself to something — anything — that would get me out of my apartment. I chose hockey.

The next five years of my life felt so empty. I took my pills. I saw my shrink three times a week. I went to hockey and tried not to cry. A close friend or family member had to stay with me 24/7.

Some days I would sit in my apartment staring out my window watching the sun rise and fall. I measured the time by the moments I didn’t have a panic attack.

After five years, I was so disgusted with the meaninglessness of my life that I knew that something had to change.

In 2005, I finally decided to accept the fact that I had a mental illness.

I told my doctors that I wanted to make every effort to get better. I wanted to learn more about the human brain. I found the right medicines to eliminate the extreme episodes of my depression and anxiety. My therapist taught me the benefits of cognitive behavioral therapy and controlling the nature of my thoughts. I learned coping tools to help curb anxiety, including deep-breathing techniques and meditation. And even though I objected at first, my therapist also convinced me to do yoga. Now I do it frequently. It helps to keep me grounded.

I also found a naturopath and started taking vitamins and supplements. I started eating clean because I learned that excess sugar and fat are terrible for mood disorders. And I started to appreciate cardio again. I learned that exercise helps to improve one’s mental health by increasing energy and positive mood.

These habits that ultimately saved my life didn’t become a lifestyle overnight. And even today, I can’t say I “cured” myself. There are no cures for something like this. But I was getting to a place where I could actually understand my problems and function with them.

And one day this switch flipped.

The switch wasn’t this moment of rainbows and unicorns and butterflies and, “Oh my gosh, life is wonderful.”

Actually, it was more like warm cherries.



In the summer of 2010 I received a phone call from former Team Canada teammates who had asked me to play with them and the national in-line hockey team at the world championships in Prague. Their goalie had just blown her knee a few weeks before the tournament.

Even though I was scared out of my mind, I said yes … but under one condition.

I needed to know that at least one person knew what I was going through just in case something happened when I was overseas. I was finally brave enough to be honest with a friend of mine who was on the team. When she heard my story, she gave me her full support.

It felt good to be so open, even if it remained our little secret.

Of course, traveling to Prague wasn’t easy — I packed Gravol so I could pass out on the plane — but playing at the highest level in a new sport was exhilarating. And the best part of it was that winning that silver medal wasn’t the highlight of the whole trip.

During one of our days off, we walked around the city to do the whole tourist thing. While the rest of the women broke off into groups or went their own way, I wandered the brick streets by myself, looking at all the stalls of a food market.

A fruit vendor caught my eye, and she handed me a bag of cherries that had been sitting in the sun. They were so warm. I sat on a bench to enjoy them and watch the people go by.

I turned around and behind me was a white brick wall graffitied in blue.

It read, Love.

A glowing feeling washed over me. A deep sense of knowing.

In that moment, I knew my life was going to be okay.



I am telling you my story because of a girl who committed suicide seven years ago.

Before that, I had been happy with the fact that only a few people knew of my condition. For years, secrecy was crucial to my happiness.

Until I realized I was a part of a much bigger problem.

On November 13, 2010, Daron Richardson, a member of the U16 Team Ontario Program and the youngest daughter of Ottawa Senators assistant coach Luke Richardson, committed suicide.

I was sitting in the head office at the Ontario Women’s Hockey Association when I heard the news. I didn’t know Daron, but thinking about her mother finding her daughter’s body shattered my heart.

I realized I was part of the reason why kids like Daron didn’t know that there’s hope.

I was part of the reason people didn’t know they could live through the pain they were feeling.

That day, I promised I would never be a part of the problem again.

Today, as a public speaker, I tell my story to thousands of people around the world, which might seem pretty ironic for a person who lives with severe anxiety.

But to me, nothing could be as painful as the 10 years I spent in darkness and suffering. By telling my story, I want to build support for people with mental illness in North America.

We are in the middle of a crisis in Canada and the U.S. The suicide rates are unbelievable. The BBC reported earlier this year that the suicide rate for teen girls in Canada has increased 38% in the past decade. A similar trend is taking place in the States.

Mental illness is still stigmatized. Many of those who are suffering would rather stay isolated than risk reaching out for help — or they simply don’t know how to begin to look for it.

People don’t know how to find the resources they need — or how to tread water until they can get to those resources. Most of all, people need to know that they don’t have to suffer alone.

We need to learn how to reach out and give someone a hug, or hold somebody’s hand, or just let others know that they know that mental illness is real, and that we’re not going to let them be alone with whatever thoughts are troubling them.

Everyone just needs that one person to be there for them….

To show them the writing on the wall.

For more information about supporting people with mental illness check out my website mentallyfit.com

KENDRA FISHER / CONTRIBUTOR

Goalie Kendra Fisher

“If I Should Die….”
Read more: https://www.theplayerstribune.com/kendr ... hould-die/

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Concussion important but badly neglected issue

"For the Para athlete, the International Paralympic Committee's (IPC) term for a sportsperson with an impairment, the concussion debate struggles to garner attention," they write.

Para athletes are just as vulnerable to concussion as any able bodied sportsman/woman, and there are several competitive sports, which, due to the speed of play, impact potential, and lack of protective equipment, make them particularly vulnerable, say the authors.

These include road cycling, ice sledge hockey, and alpine downhill skiing, but also less obvious sports, such as wheelchair track racing.

...Yet there is no dedicated guidance on the management of concussion in Para sports, and the current concussion assessment tool (SCAT5) has not been adapted for use in Para athletes either, the authors point out.
This is particularly important for Para athletes, because elements of SCAT5 aren't suitable for competitors who are paraplegic, amputees, or those with known communication difficulties or cognitive impairments.

And while sport-specific risk factors for concussion have been identified, prompting recognition of the issues by International Federations, "there is no mandate for change," highlight the authors.

"It is time for the clinical and research community to put their heads together -- figuratively -- to help address this important but poorly understood issue," they write.

And they conclude: "For this to be successful, urgent focus on Para athletes is needed within the broader academic and public discourse on concussion. No longer a population on the sidelines, Para athletes deserve our attention, focus and resources. The time is now."


Concussion important but badly neglected issue in Para sports, say experts
Read more: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2 ... 232732.htm

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Updated NCAA concussion fact sheets


Updated NCAA concussion fact sheets for student-athletes:
http://www.ncaa.org/sites/default/files ... 170721.pdf

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Elite College Athletes

Many elite college athletes are inactive later in life and it's often due to the lingering effects of injuries they suffered during their brief college sports career, a new study contends.

The Indiana University researchers looked at 232 men and women who were former Division I athletes and 225 men and women who didn't play high-level sports in college. The participants were between 40 and 65 years old at the time of the study.

Former Division I athletes were more than twice as likely to have physical problems that limited their daily activities and exercise. Sixty-seven percent of these former athletes said they had suffered a major injury and 50 percent said they had chronic injuries during college, compared with 28 percent and 26 percent, respectively, among non-athletes.

The study also found that 70 percent of athletes said they had practiced or played with an injury, compared with 33 percent of non-athletes. Forty percent of athletes were diagnosed with osteoarthritis after college, compared with 24 percent of non-athletes.

Previous joint injuries may increase the risk of developing osteoarthritis, the study authors said.

The former college athletes also had higher levels of depression, fatigue and poor sleep than non-athletes, according to the study, which was published recently in the American Journal of Sports Medicine.

"Division I athletes may sacrifice their future health-related quality of life for their brief athletic career in college," lead investigator Janet Simon, a graduate student in the kinesiology department, said in a university news release.

For Many College Athletes, the Payoff Is Lifelong Disabilities http://health.usnews.com/health-Read more: news/articles/2014/03/05/for-many-college-athletes-the-payoff-is-lifelong-disabilities-study

[greybeard58]

Christa Vulgar

“Do you want to have someone feeding you when you are older? If you can even find someone to feed you.”

This was the question I was asked when I was trying to fight my trainers and doctors to let me back on the ice. I didn’t know how to answer the question then and I still don’t know how to answer it now. My trainer wanted me to know the risks I was taking by going back on the ice. I would leave his office with smoke coming out of my ears because no one was going to stop me from playing the game I loved. But, he wanted me to fully understand the risk I am taking every day I put my skates on. I couldn’t and still can’t wrap my head around these type of questions, but this is real life for me now. So, let’s rewind to about a year and a half before.

March 14th, 2015: the day that changed my life. The day that left me feeling like I had a black cloud hovering over me ever since.

On March 14th 2015, our team made it to the NCAA Quarter Finals where we were playing the University of Minnesota. We were complete underdogs but when your team makes it that far, all you want to do is play and take in every moment you can. About half way through the first period, I was crushed into the boards like a bug on a windshield but I popped right back up and finished the play like nothing happened. I got back to the bench and of course our trainer, our doctor, and our coaches were all asking the same question; “Are you okay?”. Being the athlete I am, there was no way I wasn’t going to try and play through it. As time passed and the adrenaline wore off, I could hardly walk. My head was pounding so much that the world felt like it was spinning like a merry go round. Little did I know at the time what the next few months would be like.

...Everyone started getting more worried because it has been eight months now and I was not getting any better. At this point, my current doctor wanted me to get looked at by another doctor. I was thinking what’s one more? He called me a “hopeless cause” and that’s what I felt like. When I told him I wanted to get back to playing hockey, I could tell he thought I was getting ahead of myself. Looking back, I really was. I didn’t have one part of my life together but I thought having hockey back would bring it all back to one piece. That is, until those questions I started with were being asked of me a year and a half after my initial injury.

This newer doctor put me back on the antidepressants because they were doing what they were supposed to, but since I didn’t like how I felt on the previous ones he put me on a “brother drug” of my previous one.

This is when things started going from bad to worse. I started having suicidal thoughts. I would be driving home from school in the wrong lane hoping someone would hit me. I started taking up to five pills instead of one at night hoping I wouldn’t wake up. The list goes on. I would go home and cry because I knew I didn’t want to follow through but I was still doing it. I knew I couldn’t be alone. I slept one place or another even if that meant sleeping in a twin-size bed with someone else at the dorms. I didn’t know what do or who to talk to because there is just such a strange stigma with this. After a couple weeks, I talked to my trainers about it. They told me to stop taking the medication and to let the doctor know what was happening the next time I saw him so that he could change the doses and the type of medication. Once this was changed, things started looking up for the first time in a long time.

This is Christa, here is her Story.
Read more: https://birthmarked.blog/2017/09/06/thi ... her-story/