Posted: June 17, 2020

My family members filed into the house, one after another, greeting each other with hugs and smiles. The house was loud, filled with laughter and conversation between cousins catching up, grandparents checking in and siblings making fun of each other. My family gathered around the Thanksgiving table to celebrate the privilege of being in one place together and enjoy each other’s company.

But I couldn’t.

The sounds of their laughter pierced my ears. The thud of their footsteps vibrated my skull. The clanking of forks and knives resembled nails on a chalkboard. The only thing that I could do to escape this, my family, the thing that means the most to me in life, was to curl up in bed in a dark room, holding my head in my hands. These were the moments where my mind went places where I wish they never went. For the first time in my life the idea of killing myself seemed liked a better alternative to living life in constant suffering. I cried. Uncontrollably. Thinking about all that felt so far away from me now. My friends, my soccer career, my education, my family. I was told that feeling more emotional and sad was part of Post-Concussion Syndrome, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was actually going to experience.

I’m the kind of person who is always in a genuinely great mood. I couldn’t turn off a smile if I tried. I’m always making jokes. It’s a part of me that I really love, something that truly defines me. But in this moment, it felt like every smile, every laugh and every joke was the biggest lie. For months, I tried to put on this façade that I was still the same Noah I had always been – believe me, I tried – but after my vision went black on that field, my life was turned upside down.

The actual play happened so quickly. Having watched the video replay hundreds of times since the injury, it’s hard to figure out what I actually remember and what I think I remember. My teammates who were closest to the play describe my head being whipped back like someone hitting a bobblehead. After the initial contact occurred, they recall blood gushing out the top of my head, seeping into the Parsons turf. An Elon player ran full speed into me and the only way his speed was reduced was his knee slamming into my skull.

Being significantly undersized and lacking God-given athleticism and speed for a D1 goalkeeper has led me to develop an aggressive playing style, always wearing my heart on my sleeve and making decisions without fear. When that bouncing ball came in, I didn’t have to think twice about coming out for a play that even many goalies at the highest level would avoid. That bouncing ball was the last thing I saw before I woke up to the blurry faces of my trainer and teammate standing over me and saying my name.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I drastically slurred as I felt a surging need to vomit. “I’m fine, let me up.”

Clearly, we weren’t on the same page and I was forced to stay on the floor and told to relax for a second. Eventually, my trainer and coach helped me over to the bench where I had an examination and told the trainer to stitch me up for the second half of the game.

A few minutes later, I passed out again for about 15 seconds, woke up, touched my trainer’s arm and said, “Get me to a hospital. Now.”

These last six months since my concussion have been an extremely volatile and dark time for me emotionally. I always thought that people who went through hard times emotionally were soft or ungrateful. How could a person with such a great life have anything to complain about?

As my symptoms progressed, I felt like I lived in a state of hangover. I was constantly nauseous, dizzy and had a headache. I couldn’t hang out with my teammates in our living room because the combination of their voices and the TV was too much to handle. I wasn’t able to watch my team play the remaining 12 games of the season because the lights on the field and the music in the locker room felt like I was being tortured. I wasn’t able to attend class because when I thought about more than one thing at once my brain simply hurt. But the physical symptoms had a source. I knew my head hurt because I was kicked and had 18 staples. It was the anxiety and the depression that I couldn’t understand. It was the fact that I would wake up every morning with a pit in my stomach and an overwhelming sense of doom that I just could not understand. The worst part about it all was the fact this was not a visible injury. It wasn’t like a broken arm that I could see. That could be proven with x-rays, that the doctor can put into a cast and tell me how long it will take to heal.

There is no rehab. There is no clear diagnosis. There is no timeline. The only thing that I could do was sit in dark rooms and cry about everything that was taken away from me, from my sport to my identity. The only time that I felt some relief from the constant suffering was when I drank.

At least for a couple hours, my headache disappeared, and I forgot that I was in constant pain. After a night of drinking and my hangover state returned the following morning, I returned back to my regular thought process: If I jump over my fifth-story fire escape, will all my pain and suffering go away?

I never got that close to the fire escape, but even having those fleeting thoughts is scary enough. But when I experienced these dark thoughts and moments of suffering, I later realized the good in what it brought out in me. Prior to this injury, soccer was my main priority in life. What happened to me on that field and in the six months that followed was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but also the best. Having so much time away from the game changed my point of view. Feeling constantly anxious and depressed altered my perspective. I realized that life isn’t always about what is directly in front of me. I stopped thinking like soccer was my end-all, be-all, my sole purpose, and my only source of happiness, and I started treating it like a passion that filled me but did not define me.

There is no shame in admitting that sometimes things get so hard you can’t handle it on your own. If anyone reading this is going through a rough period in their life, sport related or not, I encourage you to seek help from your loved ones, because some things in life are too difficult to take on by yourself. Without my close friends, my teammates, my family and my coaching staff supporting me, I don’t think that I would be here today. That doesn’t make you soft or ungrateful, but it makes you human.

If I could take it back, I wouldn’t have gone out for that ball, but I will always be grateful for what the time since that injury has taught me and how it has changed me.

Suicide is preventable and help is available. If you are concerned that someone in your life may be suicidal, the five #BeThe1To steps are simple actions anyone can take to help someone in crisis. If you are struggling to cope and would like some emotional support, call the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 to connect with a trained counselor. It’s free, confidential, and available to everyone in the United States. You do not have to be suicidal to call. If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, consider using the Lifeline Crisis Chat.

Posted: June 9, 2020

Episode 1: Hello!

Episode 2: Mindset

Episode 3: Noise & Light Sensitivity

Episode 4: Staying Social

Episode 5: Coping with Loss

Episode 6: Sleep Issues

Episode 7: Exercise

Episode 8: Vision

Posted: December, 7 2015

On June 4^th, 2010, I had a terrible waterskiing accident. A ski struck the area above my right eye and caused a severe concussion/TBI. At that point I had no clue how severely the injury was going to impact my life. My life pre-brain injury involved playing sports, succeeding at school, and travelling the world. I won athlete of the year in grades nine and 10, various MVP awards on sports teams, and in my last year of high school, I was granted the highest honor of “Top Graduating Athlete.” Beyond academics, I was on a Provincial Level soccer team.  We won the Provincial Championship three times and the National Championship once, and also placed second at the U.S.A. Cup, which included teams from Europe and Japan. After two ankle surgeries, I could no longer compete in soccer and changed to Track & Field. I was then recruited to compete on the varsity Track and Field team at the local university. Sports were always an integral part of my identity and life.

Everything changed after my last concussion.  I have had concussions before, but nothing as serious as the most recent one.  I was always able to “shake it off” and resume my normal activities. Sometimes I would take a couple of days off of school and the headaches, blurred vision, irritability and fatigue would ease up. With medical clearance, I would return to the field. However, this time was different. It took longer to get cleared to resume activities. When I returned to school I could not concentrate at all. My usual zest for learning was not there, so I went back to the doctor. I was told school and sports were not options at that moment. One might think I would have been happy to not attend school, but I lapsed into a severe depression at the mere thought of it.

Currently I have headaches. They are horrible, stop you in your tracks, lay down and shut out the world headaches.  I have little control over when they happen or when they will end. My balance is off, and I get dizzy and nauseated.  I can’t go places because lights make me sick.  My mood abruptly swings from calm to agitated, often for reasons that only make sense to me. New things stand out and impact my life that didn’t used to before my injury.  I cry more than I did before. I worry and stress about everything.

I tire easily.  It doesn’t make sense to other people that I have to lie down during the day. Crowds and noise are bothersome. I try to deal with the noise because I don’t want to annoy people and constantly ask them to be quieter. I can be forgetful, a problem compounded by the difficulty in explaining my condition to others. I struggle immensely with reading comprehension.

The hurdles I face post-injury have led me to develop strategies to be successful. One such strategy includes impeccable organization so I don’t forget to complete assignments for school, or to study for exams. Limiting time in front of screens – the computer, television, phone or tablet – is helpful too.

The symptoms from my injury have adversely affected my personal relationships and employability. I can only work for a couple of hours at a time because I get too tired and need more breaks than everyone else. It has been difficult to accept that I am not like a normal person my age who can go out with friends for dinner, to a bar, or shopping.

When I had my injury, post-concussion syndrome was only supposed to last between one and six months. But nine months afterwards, I was still dealing with all of the symptoms every day. I am grateful that NHL star Sydney Crosby spoke up about post-concussion syndrome, and that he was strong enough to sit out and heal. Once the doctors saw this, and that post-concussion syndrome is real, I felt my condition was taken much more seriously.

Going from a happy-go-lucky teenager to a young adult living with a TBI and its symptoms is something that I’ve had to accept. It has changed me as a person.

Two years after my injury, I had the privilege of speaking at a conference that put me on a path to share my story with hundreds of physicians, healthcare providers and other TBI survivors. Since then, I have attended other conferences, galas, and been published in the book “Concussed” by Keith Primeau and Kerry Goulet.  I have met the most incredible people since 2010 that have supported me throughout this journey. Many thanks to the Parkwood Hospital Brain Injury Program, Fowler Kennedy, The Concussion Legacy Foundation, Dr. Robert Stern and Dr. Robert Cantu in Boston, and Stop Concussions.

‘Ringing your bell’ is not something to take lightly. Shaking it off and getting back in the game is not brave. Real bravery is recovering properly, dealing with the symptoms, and possibly enduring criticism from coaches, teammates, friends and the media. Health is a fragile thing; don’t take it for granted, because it can change in a matter of seconds.

Completing my undergraduate degree in 2014, attending Chiropractic College in Georgia with a high GPA, reducing my pain medication, and being able to do some physical activities again are just a few things that I never thought I’d achieve! The most important thing I have learned from this journey has been to never judge someone. A quote I live my everyday life by is “be kind to one another,” by Ellen DeGeneres. You do not know what someone is going through behind the face they put on every day, you do not know their struggles or their story.  I am so proud of how far I have come since June 4th, 2010!

Thank you to everyone who has supported and continues to support me through this day-by-day journey; I wouldn’t be where I am today without you all.