I seem to have had PCS for far and away the longest of anyone that's posting on here... my, THAT'S depressing. Anyway, I initially hit my head over 4 years ago, in April of '03. It was a pretty nasty spill and was no doubt complicated significantly by the fact that I was really drunk at the time, but I never lost consciousness, so as far as the conventional medical field was concerned, I merely suffered a mild concussion. According to all of the doctors I saw around that time, I should have healed completely within a week. Clearly, I didn't. Over all of this time I have learned that I not only have PCS, but I also have PTSD, so I'm fighting both of those at once, and by all published accounts (of which there are none) I'm actually winning.

My story's a really long one, rife with undereducated/jaded doctors and loads of wrong turns, so I won't get into all that here. Just know that I felt really really really horrible for a really really really long time. We're talking horrible where you're terrified of the weekends because you can't go see your doctor on Saturday or Sunday... horrible like gorging yourself whenever you feel able to eat because you only have a normal appetite for a half hour a day, if that. I've been in bad spots, the spot that I'm in now is not nearly as bad, though I'm not at all satisfied. I still plan to make a full recovery... I'm kind of a summunabitch, as anyone who used to know me would tell you, so I've taken a "either I'm going to beat this or this is going to beat me" stance with this thing. I'm pretty sure I'm going to win this fight, too.

This morning I woke up feeling just like I did before all of this happened (well, not just like I did, because I still had some chronic pain stuff, psychologically it was RIGHT there, I LOVED it)... it's weird, but that's the thing I've really noticed about this syndrome, is that waking up is a profoundly horrible experience. Every day I'd wake up and the first thought on my mind would be "****, another day of this crap" as I'd immediately realize that I still wasn't okay. Well, this morning I woke up and my first thought was "ooohhh wow, I remember what THIS was like!" That was the first time I'd had that feeling... well, ever. I'd woken up like that thousands of times before 2003, but I'd never had such a profound appreciation for it before. It may not be there tomorrow, but I know once I've had it once if I keep working I can have it again. Mmm... sanity.

I'm still not completely healed, and my life's still not what anyone would call "good" at this point, but I've experienced more healing in the past couple of months than I had in the 3+ years that came before... 3 years after doctors told me that my injuries were likely permanent, I'm within walking distance of a full recovery. I can feel it. I hate to be all tony robbins here, but I know that a lot of you on here are dealing with lazy doctors who want you to accept that your injuries are permanent and "get on with your lives" (like that's possible when you're dizzy 24 hours a day), or doctors who don't believe that there's anything wrong with you at all, or doctors who just want to put you on antidepressants because they think sprinkling a little seratonin on your brain will make everything all better... uggh, these people infuriate me to no end. Anyway, the point that I'm trying to make is that these injuries are not permanent, you can make it back to where you used to be, or at least back to a place that's comfortable enough that you won't care about any tiny piece of yourself that you may have lost along the way.

Oh, another thing about me is that I write REALLY long posts on this website. It's another affliction of mine, unfortunately, medical science has yet to find a cure.