Gut Rumbles

December 16, 2003


Have you ever been knocked unconscious? I have, four times in my life.

The first one came when I was hit square between the eyes with a softball thrown by my Uncle Virgil. He tossed me a high fly ball and it got tangled up in the leaves of a sycamore tree so that I didn't see it until it whopped me right in the head. I never knew that I was out until I opened my eyes and saw all my family, scared to death, hovering around me. Lights on, lights off, then lights back on.

I was knocked out twice while playing football. Both times, I had no idea about how long I was in the dirt, but I always remembered what happened to put me there. I knew my name and what day of the week it was when I woke up with an ammonia capsule broken under my nose.

I saw other people have the same thing happen and they didn't know what PLANET they were on when they woke up. I must have a hard head.

My last knockout blow came in a car wreck on Highway 278 on the way to play golf at Rose Hill Plantation in South Carolina. I took out the windshield of a 1986 Chrystler LeBaron in a T-Bone crash at 55 MPH. I was fortunate to survive that one, and I believe that front-wheel drived saved me that day. The car was totalled, but I was okay, except for being unconscious for a minute or so.

I saw a segment of Real Sports on HBO that other day that reported a link some doctor has found between repeated concussions and chronic depression. Now I have an excuse for being depressed a lot of the time. Forget the BC, the loss of everything I ever cared about and the prostate cancer.

I simply was hit in the head one time too often.


Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.

Posted by: Tina on December 16, 2003 02:45 PM

I've never been knocked unconscious, but I have fainted. It was pretty damned unpleasant.

Posted by: Babz on December 16, 2003 02:57 PM

Well, if somebody whacked me in the head frequently, I'd get depressed for sure.

If you want to feel even worse, there are some theories that it can lead to forms of dementia as well. Lucky for me, nobody will be able to tell the difference. I've always misplaced things and if I happen to lose my car in the parking lot at Winn Dixie (or get into a car that belonged to SOMEBODY ELSE that looks similar and try to start it up) everybody knows that's the story of my life.

If I outlive everybody that knows me now, though, I'm gonna be in a home somewhere and they'll probably take away all my carving knives too. Bastards.

Posted by: SwampWoman on December 16, 2003 02:57 PM

Seven out cold concussions here, the last one resulting in a week stay in the hospital, the first three days of which I have no memory. Never am depressed unless I have a real good reason to be. (Like for example, I was yesterday evening when I discovered that while I worked for a living some low life broke into my house and robbed me of money and Christmas presents that I had bought to donate to the fireman's annual toy drive.) But ya can't let life get ya down, so today I'm no longer depressed, just pissed off.

Think that concussion = depression thing is a crock!

Posted by: cinders on December 16, 2003 06:26 PM

Clinical depression is an actual disease, a chemical imbalance that can be addressed with medications. Emotional depression is a whole different matter.

You can be depressed from events and not be clinically depressed. If you're clinically depressed, you're depressed no matter what happens. It's an important distinction.

Posted by: J. Fielek on December 17, 2003 10:29 AM

So dane bramage cuases this, huh?

Posted by: Larry on December 17, 2003 07:43 PM

Sometimes I think it's one time too few.

Posted by: Da Goddess on December 18, 2003 01:29 AM

As a grade-school kid:
1. While catching, I signaled the pitcher, and bent over to clean the plate, and the asshole threw a fastball. It was late winter, and he hit me on the fuzzy ball on top of my stocking cap. Woke up in the Doctor's office. Damn, stiches are fun without pain medication.
2. Late winter baseball is bad. I was leaning against the brick schoolhouse wall waiting for my turn. The batter wearing brown jersey gloves let the bat slip. The end of the bat hit me flush in the right eye-socket. I woke up with my Dad (the school principal) washing blood out of my face. I went out, and woke up four days later in a hospital 150 miles away, after an operation on my fractured skull and "bad eye". Great surgeons, no permanent problems.
Well, 25 years of motocross racing is going to produce a few "bell-ringers". {:^)

Posted by: Dan Pursel on December 18, 2003 11:35 AM

Numerous concussions, but the worst in "non-contact" basketball. Fractured skull; severe concussion. Out for minutes, then out again for days. Out of school a month. I've played damn near every sport you can name on an organized level, but my worst injuries came mostly in basketball.

Posted by: Larry on December 19, 2003 09:49 AM

Hi...Im just surfed in and want to say hello!
Regards George

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