Concussion number eight (named Jason because my most common headache feels like Jason Vorhees is crushing my skull) was probably the stupidest one.

It happened the day after New Year’s in 2014.

I was at work (graphic designer) and I needed to plug in my laptop, but the cord was on the floor underneath the conference table that three of us (me, Andrew, and Jason [unrelated]) worked at together during the day. So, I bent to grab the cord and cracked my forehead on the edge of the table. My teeth clacked when I hit the table, too. Thinking to myself that I’d hit my head much harder before (like…a week before when I got so frustrated that I banged my head on the card pinned to the cork board in the break room that read “bang head here” for when you’ve got a frustrating client) and felt that this was no big deal as usual, I continued to do my work. Then we took a lunch break, and I was told that I looked grey and that I was slurring my words.

They drove me to the ER.

The ER doctor gave me a CT scan, did the usual head injury tests, concluded that I was, indeed, concussed, and prescribed me anti-nausea medication and Vicodin. I was told to see my regular physician in a week to make sure I didn’t sprout a blood clot or anything. I ended up at a clinic the following week after I made a pot of coffee at work and it tasted and smelled nothing like coffee to me, which was alarming along with the fact that I was still woozy and had a headache that felt like a star was imploding inside my skull.

Of course, no one asked me how my head injury occurred when I was going through intake at urgent care, and the doctor who looked me over in the exam room pitched a fit and yelled at me when I said that it happened at work. “This is a workman’s comp case?! Jesus, you should have said that to begin with. You need to fill everything out again.”

She ended up telling me that I needed to see a neurologist and wrote “headache” on my paperwork. Sure. Headache. And I can’t stand with my eyes closed without swaying and almost falling over. Thanks, lady.

Here’s where things get really annoying.

Because it happened while I was at work, this became an insurance issue, and I was told that the company’s insurance would have to find me a neurologist when I realized that my concussion symptoms were still present after two weeks. I’m not even going to get into the waking nightmare of my caseworker never answering her phone or returning my calls not getting my goddamn ER bill taken care of to the point where they were mailing me collections notices for not paying the bill after several months, but I just did get into that, didn’t I?

The doctor that was picked for me put me on blood pressure meds (I consistently showed low blood pressure when I got it checked at her office) and then tried a pain medication on me that had known interactions with the depression medication I’m on. You know when they say: “if you have any of these side effects, see a doctor immediately,” in commercials for medications? The combo I was on resulted in extremely vivid hallucinations.

So, on top of all that nonsense, I had no idea why I still had concussion symptoms after so long. I’d had a headache for weeks that was moving around my skull. Then I’d had the headache for months. Now, it’s been over nine years, and I still have a headache. The neurologist diagnosed me with something called “post-concussion syndrome.” Some people recover from it in a few weeks, and others in a few years. Some people never recover.

No dosage of NSAIDs or acetaminophen will alleviate the headache pain for me. When I brought this issue up with the neurologist, she said that she “didn’t feel comfortable” prescribing me anything stronger than the 800mg ibuprofen horse pills.

Those didn’t do anything, either.

Side note: if you are a doctor, your feelings one what to prescribe should not factor into how you treat someone’s chronic pain. Your comfort isn’t the thing in question when it comes to your patient’s pain management.

I ended up moving to Texas in the middle of all of this, and I was able to get an appointment with another neurologist who had better physician ratings online. Of course, I had to wait two months to see said neurologist.

I’ve gotten so used to flooding (sudden and intense pain) that I don’t even remember what not having a headache feels like. There isn’t really anything that can be done for post-concussion syndrome, either. At least, there isn’t anything beyond pain management.

(Which is to say that right now, I’m vaping delta-8 and it prevents migraines. And I don’t even need a prescription.)

This new neurologist checked me over and was so much better than the previous one because she listened to me and went over my symptoms and explained shit to me. She added “chronic migraine” to my diagnoses and, because of my bad interactions with the usual concussion treatment medications, started me on Botox treatments.

Botox treatment is made up of having thirty four injections of Botox in the face and scalp (I kind of weirded out the nurse by being able to sit like a rock through it all and I remember telling her that the inside of my head hurt way more than multiple injections). The first round of injections helped with my constant vertigo, but did nothing for my headaches. I was prescribed Treximet, which helped slightly, and then had another round of injections done.

The pain got worse. I had to go to Urgent Care multiple times for migraines that hurt so much that I couldn’t breathe.

I was then referred to a Headache Institute doctor who referred me to a Migraine Clinic doctor who helped me alleviate my neck pain, but did nothing for my migraines.

My short term memory is still extremely bad, and I’ve discovered that I have a few big memories that I don’t recall at all. My mother mentioned that I’d driven her to the ER once before, but I had no idea what she was talking about. Not when I did this, not why, and not even if I’d driven in her car or mine. There’s nothing but a big blank spot, and I just have to take her word for it. I also lost a memory of staying in Manhattan overnight after playing tourist all day. I remember walking on Wall Street at the end of the day and seeing a dude dressed up as a sad panda, then I don’t remember much else.

So, that’s always alarming.

Having a traumatic brain injury has made me question myself. I sometimes feel like I’m an actress in a movie, and I didn’t get the script revisions. I’m in the middle of a scene where I’m supposed to say my line, but it’s the wrong one, and I have no reference for what the right line is.