There is something so intangible about mountaintops. As hard as I try, I can't seem to capture their true beauty in a photograph or in words. No words can describe the vastness that you get to sink into for those few moments. No photo can depict the relief of a cool wind that wipes the sweat off of your face. Truly, being overwhelmed by the beauty of the mountains can only be experienced on the mountaintop. So today, I attempt to write about my mountaintop but not before I write about the hike it took to get here.
Then December came. Because the doctors figured out what was going on, they were able to treat me. My episodes became less frequent, and now, I haven't had one in two months. Hallelujah.
I look back on this year, and can see how hard it was for myself and those around me. For the majority of the past year, I yearned for this mountaintop experience like I have never before. At times, it seemed like I would never reach it. Most times, it felt like I was falling off the mountain instead of climbing it. I am thankful that I had people beside me to pull me back on the mountain and help me through the tough parts. I am thankful that I made it here, even though I may be bruised.
One year out, I am overwhelmed by both the struggle it took to get here and the beauty of the chaos that I look back on.
Last March, during the spring of my junior year, I suffered a minor traumatic brain injury. I fractured my skull which in turn caused my brain to bleed and left me with a severe concussion. I don't remember slipping or falling, but my parents found me on the floor of my kitchen. The doctors think I fainted from a fever and fell right on my head, but since I don't remember, we will never know for sure. It boogles my mind that a seemingly insignificant amount of time that I have no recollection of changed my life in the way it did.
We didn't actually know the severity of my head injury for another whole day. We just thought I had a concussion, until the doctor sent me for a CT scan. I remember sitting in the office of the CT place, my head throbbing. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep. I felt gross. I have this vague memory of my mom making a grocery list, and me asking for popsicles. While I was asking, she got a phone call. I needed to be admitted to the ER at a local hospital. I remember being confused. I looked fine, maybe tired, but I was a junior in High School. Every Junior looks perpetually tired. Why was I going to the hospital for a concussion?
Well, at some point, I learned that it wasn't just a concussion. I was transferred from my local hospital to Children's just in case I needed surgery. Luckily, I didn't. But I was still there for two days just in case anything took a turn for the worse. Before I was allowed to leave, the doctors warned me that noise, light, and basically everything would bother me for a while. I thought they meant maybe like three days. Boy, was I wrong!
Well, at some point, I learned that it wasn't just a concussion. I was transferred from my local hospital to Children's just in case I needed surgery. Luckily, I didn't. But I was still there for two days just in case anything took a turn for the worse. Before I was allowed to leave, the doctors warned me that noise, light, and basically everything would bother me for a while. I thought they meant maybe like three days. Boy, was I wrong!
I was allowed to go home after passing a couple of tests. I think I wished that somehow just by going home, everything would be okay but everything was different. My headaches were torturous. My balance was way off wack. I slept all the time. I couldn't be left alone. No longer did I feel 17. I could no longer drive. I could no longer work. It felt like someone stole my life away from me. It all felt like a cruel joke.
Then a couple of weeks passed and I was finally allowed to go back to school. Finally! Back to Normal! Right? Wrong. My focus would just vanish. Words were blurry. I kept trying to push through it, since I looked fine, I thought I was fine. I had AP Exams in a month! It quickly became evident that AP Exams, let alone AP classes or even regular classes were no longer something I could do for that time being.
The headaches kept coming. They were so bad, I needed to lay down every time I had one. Most times, they came on with noise, but at that point, anything could trigger them. My brother could no longer play piano at home. I couldn't go out to eat, or go anywhere that had music playing. Now, The noise thing has gotten better, but it still isn't what I was able to tolerate pre-injury.
The summer came. At this point, I had given up on going to camp. But after a doctor's appointment a couple of days before camp started, I got the all clear to go to camp. I remember feeling nervous and excited. Excited because I had been ready for camp since before the injury. In fact, the weekend before the injury, I had been at a training at camp. (I don't remember much of that weekend. I lost a good portion of memory because of the injury. I hope all of those lost memories were not too significant.) But I felt equally nervous since I didn't quite feel fully healed. I still had headaches. I didn't want to put too much pressure on camp as I had going back home and going back to school. I did not want to let myself down.
Well, I went. I packed all of my stuff. But when I got there, I realized it was much harder than I thought since, I couldn't listen to music and sometimes I had to leave to take a nap. But it was good. I was so happy to be there. And then, one day during the training, I had what appeared to be a seizure, and was brought to the hospital. I decided to stay home for the summer to focus on my health.
Well, I went. I packed all of my stuff. But when I got there, I realized it was much harder than I thought since, I couldn't listen to music and sometimes I had to leave to take a nap. But it was good. I was so happy to be there. And then, one day during the training, I had what appeared to be a seizure, and was brought to the hospital. I decided to stay home for the summer to focus on my health.
Finally, August came. Senior Year. I felt somewhat normal again. I could read a book without getting a headache and I could do math problems without forgetting what I was doing in the middle. I finally took the SATS. I worked on college application essays.
And then November came. I still could not drive and so I was standing outside waiting for my dad to pick me up. What I did not realize is that someone missed a football catch and as a result, the football made contact with my head. Normally, this would not have been a problem, but since I had previously suffered a severe concussion and it hadn't completely healed, I relapsed. When the football hit me, my body went into protection mode and it appeared as if I was having a seizure. An ambulance was called and I was brought to Children's.
These episodes repeated almost daily over the next couple of weeks. They happened at school, at home, in the car, at church, etc. They happened when I was with family, with teachers, with friends. While I was learning about EEGs and MRI scans in AP Psych, I was also going to the doctors to have these tests done on me. I bet not alot of high schoolers can say that!
Then December came. Because the doctors figured out what was going on, they were able to treat me. My episodes became less frequent, and now, I haven't had one in two months. Hallelujah.
What people don't tell you about the mountaintop is that it isn't just a pretty picture. There is so much more. When you look at their picture, you don't see the wet socks. You don't hear the bugs buzzing in your ears. You don't feel your legs caving in. You don't smell the sweat of other people. (I don't either but that's because I lost my sense of smell after my injury.) All of that stuff is really icky, but yet, we still press on to the mountaintop because there is something about mountaintops that are so redemptive and beautiful. You have to hike and push though paths, and walk through puddles, and fall down and get back up, but it is all worth it. All the scratches, and bruises.
I look back on this year, and can see how hard it was for myself and those around me. For the majority of the past year, I yearned for this mountaintop experience like I have never before. At times, it seemed like I would never reach it. Most times, it felt like I was falling off the mountain instead of climbing it. I am thankful that I had people beside me to pull me back on the mountain and help me through the tough parts. I am thankful that I made it here, even though I may be bruised.
One year out, I am overwhelmed by both the struggle it took to get here and the beauty of the chaos that I look back on.
I think of Jesus who was a frequent mountain climber. I like to think that he would sit on his mountain and think of us. I like to think he wanted us to know that all of the ickiness in our lives can be redeemed. He knows what the mountaintop of this is going to be for each of us. He has already climbed this mountain that we are climbing, and yet, he climbs it again and he climbs it with each and every one of us.