I went to the emergency room at a local hospital, they took basic vitals, and I got a CT scan. The CT scan was excruciating because the headrest for the CT machine was right where I hit my head; I nearly threw up from the pain. The CT scan came back normal and the doctors recommended that I go home, rest and ice my head. 

At that time, there was no real diagnosis— just a recognition that I had “hit my head.”

I was working with my kids on a simple pattern problem for the youngest’s math class when I realized that I couldn’t figure out the answer, and that really scared me. 

At the time, I was a vice president at a large digital marketing firm; I have a PhD in computer interaction and I’ve taught at the college level. I can use my brain. I can think. And what’s more: I needed to use my brain. Not only am I a mom, but I was running a team at work. My inability to complete basic logic, let alone complex thought, was terrifying.

It was extremely challenging. Finding a neurologist was hard, and because I hadn't lost consciousness when I fell and because my CT scan was normal, I was diagnosed with a mild concussion. 

This diagnosis struck me because there was nothing mild about what I was feeling. 

In addition to the difficulty thinking, my demeanor had changed. I was short with my kids and detached with my husband. I was terrified because I’d worked my whole life to get to this point and I felt like I just kept messing up. I started calling around for a second opinion, which felt like an exercise in futility, but eventually I found a nurse practitioner and later a different neurologist who were able to really help me.

A nurse practitioner was the first person who used the term traumatic brain injury (TBI), and at first it surprised me because there's a big leap between “mild concussion” and “traumatic brain injury.” But just hearing it called at TBI felt like a weight off my shoulders. This was six months after my fall, and the new diagnosis totally validated what I’d experienced since then. After that, I started occupational therapy for my vision, speech therapy for cognition and physical therapy for my neck. I also stopped working and could rest, which I believe is why I am feeling dramatically better today.
 

The diagnostic tests available to me when I fell seemed so clunky. They were good starts, good indicators—but not remotely adequate to diagnose an individual. The doctors are so highly trained, so intelligent and have a true passion for helping people, but it’s like giving Michelangelo a caveman club and a slab of marble and saying, “carve me The Pietà.” It just isn’t possible. They need more sophisticated, objective tools to get patients the care they need.