Concussion Epidemic: Life After Hockey

"Hockey is like a disease, you can't really shake it." - former NHL goaltender Ken Wregget

I picked up the puck at the red line and saw the defender in front of me. I had always been taught to take a hit to make a play, and this was about to be one of those times. As I neared the blue line, I saw the defensmen shift his weight forward, I dumped the puck in just as I took the hit. I made my way to the bench, I was feeling disoriented, a little dizzy. I sat there, trying to remember what period we were in, what the score of the game was, but I had no idea.

I had felt this way before, a few times actually. Last season I had suffered a few concussions. Most went undiagnosed because frankly, I didn't want them to be diagnosed. I didn't want people to know that I was hurt, because all I wanted to do was play hockey. This time I had the same plans, just get back on the ice and it will feel better. I heard the coach yell my name, and I jumped on the ice for what would be the final shift I would ever play.

Our defender was waiting behind the net with the puck as we changed lines. I swooped around the net and picked up the puck in full flight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an opponent skating towards me. Still feeling the effects of the previous hit, I remembered what my dad had told me after last year's major concussion, the one that I had no way of hiding. "When someone is about to hit you, just get out of the way. Your just a kid, you have a future ahead of you." I tried to do just that. As I was about to get hit, I threw on the breaks and chipped the puck off the glass and out, but it was to late. It was barely a hit really, sure the guy was bigger then me, so it may have been labelled a head shot in today's NHL, but in all reality it was just a bump. It didn't matter. I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head, and the next thing I heard was our trainer calling my name as I lay face down on the ice.

I knew at the beginning of the season that this would likely be my last year of hockey. I had spent the previous year basically going through the motions. By that I mean that whenever I stepped on the ice, my head got all foggy, and I couldn't see or concentrate. I survived based on instinct. I had a good grasp of proper positioning, for the most part. I knew where I was supposed to be on the ice, and I had a good idea of where my opponents would be. If it wasn't for that I probably would have been done a lot sooner.

As the trainer and a teammate helped me off the ice and into the dressing room, I looked up and saw my mom, her hands on her mouth, in shock. I saw my dad standing in the hall outside the room waiting for me. I could only imagine the pain that they must have felt seeing their son like that. That's when everything really clicked, that's when I knew that I had to call it quits. I had put them through a lot with these concussions. I could tell you how to get to the hospital in many cities around Ontario, and my mom and dad were always there with me. My mom will tell you then I finally gave in to the idea of being done when I heard the doctor say one more concussion could put me in a coma, but in all reality I knew well before then.

Up to this point in my life, hockey had been all I ever did, all I ever thought about. Before I was old enough to even know what hockey was, I sat on my dad's lap as the Red Wings played on TV. I only played hockey video games, starting with the classic NHL 94 on Sega. I only read hockey magazines and books and biographies. I honed my skills playing roller hockey in my neighbours basement. We would spend hours down there, pretending we were NHL stars. I knew long before any concussions that I wasn't going to make the NHL, but never in my life had I took the time to think about what life would be like without hockey.

I went home that night and just sat in bed, thinking about what I was going to do. This may not seem like a tragic event to some, but I had never not played hockey. I spent my weekends playing and practising with my friends. When I wasn't doing that I was working out with those same people. Now I couldn't do either of those things. That one sleepless night turned into many. The headaches were worse at night, I'm not sure why, but it sucked. I didn't sleep for about 6 months, and even today I spent 1-2 times a week fighting a headache instead of sleeping. My grades plummeted, and I felt like an outsider. All the people I hung out with played hockey, and since I couldn't, I didn't know what to do after school, or on weekends.

I got my "fix" by coaching, and eventually playing some pick up hockey. I was lucky enough to have a great support staff around me, led by my family. I was always happy to watch my brother play, and as I grow older, as more of my friends call it quits, not playing becomes easier. Life after hockey was difficult for me to adjust to. I cannot imagine what it is like for NHL players like Eric Lindros who spent much longer then I did playing. But I have made the adjustment, the grades are back, and I am doing everything I can to continue being involved in hockey. So to all my family and friends who helped me adjust, I thank you. Life after hockey would have been much worse without you.