Overwhelmed by…

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One kilometer view of a Century Ride

Set up for a Century Ride

About a week ago, after having struggled with sensory overload for a couple of days I was happy to be riding, enjoying the countryside and taking in the sound of birds during the quiet moments along Highway 1, also known as the Tran-Canada. I was doing a century ride of 163 kms into Regina.

The first two weeks of the ride had it’s challenges. At this point things had settled down and I was getting into a workable routine.

I woke up that morning to find out that my glasses had fallen out of the mesh holder and and must have broken when I rolled onto them. The lens was lying in one place and the left arm was broken. My attention was initially on salvaging my glasses as best I could. I got the lens reseated with no apparent damage. I taped the broken arm which not surprisingly failed later in the day.

The scenario with the glasses put me behind schedule. Of all days to encounter a delay. It was going to be a hot day, and we were scheduled to pull out of camp at 5:30 rather than the usual 7:00 start. The intent was to get as many kilometers behind us before it got hot and before the favourable winds would turn against us.

After about an hour of hard cycling, partly to make up for lost time and partly to help dissipate the sensory loading of the morning’s setback, I was gradually finding myself in a better space.

On schedule, as predicted, at about eight o’clock as the thermal convection overpowered the predominant westerly flow of air, we began fighting a headwind. For the remaining 80 km of the ride we were fighting either a headwind or a crosswind. The occasional windbreak gave some appreciable relief.

Despite the elements we were facing, I was doing well and enjoying the ride. It looked like it would be a ride that would leave me with some energy to spare.

Turning Point

Just fifteen kilometers from the campground we were passing through a highway construction zone. As we approached the active working area I was sizing up the pile driver that was working in the median. I could see from the regular puff of smoke rising from the hammer, that it was on a 10 second cycle, pounding in steel columns for a new overpass.

There was no alternate route. As I approached the rig I covered my left ear with my hand hoping to block as much of the shock waves as possible. The bombardment of the sound waves got progressively stronger. Before I was even abreast of the pile driver I knew I was in trouble. I could feel my brain going into shutdown. I had no choice but to keep pedaling. Traffic was moving slowly but was heavy. I put all my energy into keeping myself moving forward as I felt my brain turning to mush. When I was almost past the rig I was in tears. The pounding was overwhelming, bombarding my whole body. The hand covering my left ear virtually ineffective. My eyes were stinging because of the mix of sweat, sunscreen and tears.

I remembered how one air horn blast from a truck a few days ago set my recovery back a half hour. I lost track of the number of hammer blasts. Given the time it took to pass the rig  there must have been 20 to 30 hammer blasts before I was out of range.

When the bombardment of the pile driver faded enough I stopped at the side of the highway trying to pull myself together. At the urging of my cycling buddy I started cycling again to get out of the construction zone and away from the traffic.

A kilometer further was one of our refreshment stops. I made it to the stop and then knowing I was out of danger, I physically, mentally and emotionally fell apart. I stumbled around trying to get my bearings, searching for a sense of pulling myself together. Meanwhile I was too incoherent to explain to the attendant that I would be okay. At least I wanted to convince myself I would be okay. Her concern was in order because she said she had never seen me in such a rough condition.

I sat down for about five minutes to let the worst of the sensory impact fade. After a bit my riding buddy decided that if I was not ready to ride in two more minutes I should be sagged into camp.

Problem solving challenge

I was in a tough situation. When I am in crisis my ability to problem solve is seriously compromised. I had not anticipated the scenario that had just unfolded in the past 15 minutes and therefore had not considered possible exit plans.

Yet I was forced to weigh the options. Ending the ride there with 15 km to go would mean I would miss the exhilaration of completing the ride and instead have to deal with emotions of disappointment on top of the sensory overload I was already dealing with. To stay at the SAG stop meant I would not be able to do my end of the ride recovery protocol within the most effective time frame. Also, cycling is an effective way to help dissipate some of the sensory loading (unless I am feeling physically exhausted), while taking a ride in a vehicle would add to my sensory loading.

I opted to continue cycling since there were only 15 km left. I was trying to determine how much of my decision was influenced by being too proud to stop when I had managed other rather difficult parts of the tour. Had it been significantly further to the camp I would have packed it in for the day. (Easy to say that now as I look back on it.) Despite the heavy traffic getting to the far side of Regina, the rest of the ride went well, though I noticed my riding was not as steady and needed a few reminders to be attentive..

Willing support

When I arrived in camp I experienced a supportive community at it’s best. My riding buddy stepped in and arranged for people to help with my end of ride protocol. This involved getting my recovery drinks ready, my tent set up and for this situation to have one person attend to me while the supports were carried out. Once things were set up I lay down in my tent for about an hour. Didn’t sleep much in that time but was away from others and could relax. A couple people told me later they adjusted my tent fly so that I would be out of the direct sunlight. The tent fly had only been installed part way so there would be additional venting as it was still in the mid 30’s C.

I am interested in see if the earplugs would make a difference. Not that I’m interested in finding out at this time. I was told the earplugs would likely have minimal effect. The nature of the pounding is such that the whole body is impacted, not just the ears. I now pack a set of earplugs with my bike just in case.

After thought

What an experience to travel with a group of people who are focused on each person being cared for. It’s like the success of the tour depends on the success of each person who is part of the tour.

There is a strong sense that we are on a big ride for an even bigger cause.

When the Real Thing Happens

 

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Ally a knowledgeable and very supportive riding buddy

Not even three days into the tour and one thing has become very clear; despite all the training and the thorough preparations that’s no guarantee that the real thing will go well. Even the four day pre-ride didn’t bring out the challenges that the start of the Sea to Sea ride dropped on me.

I say, dropped because it was wholly unexpected. Day one of the ride caused me some difficulty because of the waiting around, getting the first day of the ride to start in an organized way, and doing the ceremonial tire dip in the Pacific Ocean. The ride portion of the day went very well, so I looked forward to reasonably uneventful days after putting the first day behind me.

Day two was an easy ride with 90 km and minimal climbing. We had a refreshment stop at one church with lots of fresh baked cookies, drinks and lively conversations. The lunch stop later in the morning was at a Christian school where we were served a choice of 5 different soups, buns with an assortment of meats and cheese and watermelon.

I rode with two cyclists to minimize the sensory loading from being around too many people. We had the wind on our backs with most of the route following quiet secondary roads which ran more or less parallel to the Trans Canada Highway. Arriving in camp, it was my Service Team’s job to set up the supper tables, erect the canopies and unload the cooking equipment from the kitchen truck.

With the cycling done for the day, and my service team duties done by 2 pm I knew it was time to relax and hopefully get in a short nap. After lying down for an hour and napping for a half hour I figured I was good to go for the balance of the day.

It was when I got up from my nap that I realized I was dealing with a significant bout of sensory overload. The timing of it took me totally by surprise. During the day I did not notice any of the possible signals that my body usually gives me. Nevertheless, when I got up from my nap I was dealing with some very strong side effects, making it difficult to get my tent set up, showering and laundering my cycling clothes with any efficiency. Supper went okay because I found a quiet place to eat after going through the buffet lineup.

Usually a night’s sleep will dissipate enough of my sensory loading to function in an okay manner the next day. When I woke up the next morning I soon realized I was still very close to my limit of sensory loading. Taking down and packing the tent, rolling up the sleeping mat and sleeping bag took a long time because I couldn’t focus enough to get things organized. Between having things stored in the tent, in the gear truck and using the washroom facilities I ended up misplacing too many things. I then tried to retrace my steps to find my missing stuff. I managed to find everything back eventually except for my only official pair of biking shorts. (No worry, I do have a couple back up pairs.) By the time I had my camping gear in the gear truck I had missed out on most of what was available for breakfast. The challenges of packing up and getting myself ready to ride for the day put me into a downward spiral.

When I was finally ready to roll my two cycling buddies from the previous day were patiently waiting for me. That simple gesture by itself was a real morale boost. It felt good to be cycling, which gradually helped dissipate the sensory loading – no schedule to meet, no planning, no organizing demands, just pedal my bike. And so with one soothing pedal stroke after another I began the 70 km ride from Hope BC to Manning Provincial Park a 1300 meter climb.

The rhythm of the cycling helped me ease into the rest of the day. Gradually my symptoms began to subside a bit. We were climbing in the early morning so the shade cast by the mountains kept us relatively cool. As the day progressed the temperature increased. By early afternoon I was once more at my limit as the sensory loading again reached a point where cycling became difficult. A couple of short breaks and a some encouragement from a couple of people was enough to help me complete the last 10 km for the day.

The two and a half day experience did not bode well for the 65 days of cycling that lay ahead. What troubled me is that a four day ride a month ago went much better than the first 3 days.

My godsend was a fellow cyclist Ally who is a brain injury specialist and had been my cycling buddy since the start of the ride. She had observed my struggle and had given me some general pointers in the first couple days. When we got to camp she gave me a dose glucosamine and recommended taking a dose everyday within 45 minutes of completing the ride. In addition to that she recommended taking magnesium to help relax and rejuvenate the muscles. The combination of these two vitamin supplements allows me to sleep better and help my body recover from the demands of the day. This was in addition to the variety of vitamin supplements I had been prescribed by a nutritionist before starting the ride.

Each cyclist is part of one of eleven Service Teams, organized to get vital tasks done in camp each day. My Service Team has been very encouraging and accommodating of my limitations. The tasks assigned to us will change from week to week, so my ability to contribute my share will vary from week to week.

Each rider is part of this tour because of a common purpose – to raise money for helping people get out of poverty and at the same time to spread the news about the work that Partners World Wide and World Renew are doing to meet that goal. What is heartwarming to see is that the desire to help others is being practiced among members of the tour. With such a generous outpouring of empathy and support my ability to complete this tour looks much stronger.

Escape Plan

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Ready to roll – new drive train, accessories attached

In my recent session with my OT we spent over an hour developing an escape plan. While I have looked at many aspects in preparing for a successful Sea to Sea trek across Canada, I had not thought about developing an escape plan. Why? Well I was thinking in terms of success, not planning for failure.

I know from experience, that with my ABI, effective problem solving is a real challenge. Effective problem solving when I most need it, when I am in a situation in which I am dealing with severe sensory overload, will most certainly fail me. In failing me, it will likely create embarrassment for me, put extra demands on other people, result in poor decisions, in short it will likely make matters worse.

Get me out of here

The challenge of starting the trip so far away from home is that I can’t just quit after a difficult week or two and get a quick ride home. So, I have worked through a plan of how to exit the Sea to Sea tour ‘gracefully’ should it be necessary. I have settled on the likely exit points: Calgary, Regina, Winnipeg, Michigan, Owen Sound, Ottawa, Charlottetown. Each possible exit point comes with certain supports to minimize the potential challenges.

After developing the various exit points it gave me a sense of assurance. It took away the fear or anxiety of possibly creating a crisis should I find it too difficult to continue. With my fears reduced that is one less factor to weigh me down and in turn give me more energy to channel in a positive way – turning my pedals to keep me moving.

How do I know how I’m doing

In order to not end up exiting prematurely or at all, I need to know how I’m doing. Failing to properly gauge myself will result in being blindsided. With six days cycling and one day rest for each of the 10 weeks I need to be mindful of maintaining my reserves.

What to look for:

  • if I experience vertigo at the end of a ride or at rest stop I know I need to reduce my pace.
  • if I experience fatigue on waking, ride at a reduced pace that whole day. The thrill of biking once I get moving can falsely mask the fatigue and in turn show up in the form of greater fatigue the next morning.
  • if I am not sleeping well I need to reduce my pace. With too much physical demands it becomes harder to relax and sleep properly.
  • if I experience an increase in emotional loading, it will signal that I’m am not able to recover from the physical demands of the day or I need to curb some of the additional activities that could be causing the sensory overload.

Strategies for avoiding ‘trouble’

Even though I have done a four day ‘warm up’ bike trip, I need to be prepared for the unexpected. While I am aware of some of the activities that contribute to my sensory loading, there will be new activities which I need to be mindful of. For that reason I need to re-evaluate on a daily basis.

There are some simple strategies that I have agreed on that will hopefully stand me in good stead. I will schedule a nap as soon as I get into camp each day. From experience I know that after a physically strenuous day, I will likely be restless the first part of the night before sleeping better the second half. So it would make sense that a pre-sleep session should help make the whole night restful.

Riding in a large group can create a greater sense of camaraderie, but experience tells me that it will add significantly to my sensory loading putting me at risk of sensory overload. So, riding with no more than four cyclists would be advisable.

I’m going to have to see about the weekend celebrations as the tour is scheduled to hit a major centre each weekend to connect with supporters and donors. Participating in that might be a non-starter.

Despite the many contingencies that I have looked at, I find that cycling helps to dissipate much of the sensory loading that builds up as the day progresses. It seems like the physical, rhythmic action of cycling, along with the slower and simpler way of seeing the countryside provides relief and healing.

After analyzing all the different things that could go wrong, I actually found it to be a positive and a reassuring activity.

I have found some quotes about failure that are appropriate to different aspect of my upcoming bike trek:

“Failure isn’t fatal, but failure to change might be” – John Wooden

“Failing to plan is planning to fail.” – Winston Churchill

 

Intriguing Four Days

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Minimum Bicycle Safety Margin

It’s been an intriguing four days. Rather than driving the four hour trip to visit my daughter I decided to cycle to her house. A four hour drive has it’s challenges but so does a 4 day cycling trip.

Challenge #1

My main challenge when I am driving is managing the sensory loading, some of which comes from an underlying hyper vigilance, a side effect from the car accident that caused my ABI. I am still trying to reduce the effects of post traumatic symptomology that lingers following the collision. The hourly breaks helps reduce some of the sensory loading that occurs from simply being in a car.

In the four days I cycled I did not experience sensory loading to a level that it would interfere with my normal functioning. On the second morning I intentionally cycled through down town Toronto at the height of rush hour. I proceeded down Dundas Ave which has a marked bike lane. That allowed me to move much quicker than the cars that were crawling across town. I was aware of the need to watch for cars coming out of side streets, watch for turning vehicles at each intersection and be aware of many other cyclists that were either overtaking me or as I was passing them. At the same time that I’m focusing on the traffic, I’m taking in the honking of car horns, the noise of trucks, police sirens. Add to that the smells of sewage, exhaust fumes, bakery smells and other unidentifiable smells in a quickly changing smorgasbord of odours.

When I reflected back on the 15 km ride through the Toronto rush hour I noticed no lingering sensory loading at the end of the day. Had I ridden in or driven a car the accumulated effect would have required several hours or a day to clear my brain.

What seems to make cycling different? I’m not really sure. As part of my training by my occupational therapist to become my own detective, I have some possible theories:

  1. When I’m cycling I am moving through traffic in a different way then driving a car. I am not dealing with the possible errors that could result from something going wrong with on-coming traffic as I am way off to the right side of the road.
  2. I am moving slower than in a car or in the case of rush hour traffic, not dealing with the stop and go matter, so the neurological demands are less. I don’t need to process sensory input at nearly the speed on a bike that I need to while driving a car.
  3. I am cycling, which is a highly physical and a highly repetitive activity. Yes, I have to shift gears, and pay attention to various factors in my environment, but it seems like the physical part helps dissipate the negative effects of the accumulation of sensory impressions. Driving a car involves very minimal physical activity – moving one’s foot between gas pedal and brake. As such there is an accumulation of stresses that will continue to build till I step out of the car and do something physical. Taking a walk isn’t very strenuous but it’s repetitive and 20 minutes or so of that makes enough of a difference to continue the trip.

Challenge #2

There are times and situations in which the emotional sensory loading brings me to a point where it interferes with my normal functioning. The day before I started the trip I had just been through an experience of extreme emotional loading which left me totally incapacitated for over a half hour. Such an experience would often take 2 days and sometimes longer to clear my system. As I was biking along on the first day I had two momentary relapses that reminded me that my emotional loading was still a concern.

The one relapse happened when I stopped in to see a friend of mine. I was explaining to him that I would be cycling across Canada next month. I was overcome when I shared with him what my occupational therapist has shared with me a week earlier. She told me that when she started working with me 18 months ago, she had done an extensive assessment, she did not think my condition would improve enough to be able to bike across Canada. She was overjoyed that I had proven her wrong.

By the second day and the following days I experienced no relapse with my emotional sensory loading. I can only attribute that to the repetitive, physical workout. While being repetitive, cycling is never boring. How can it be when you are seeing the countryside or the cityscape at pace that brings out many wonderful details and surprises.

Challenge #3

Conversing with more than one or two other people at a time will put me into sensory overload in about 15 minutes and often sooner. Each night, when I came to my lodging place I visited with two people. It was a chance to share experiences and insight of the day. After completing the 4 day ride I was visiting with my daughter. Shortly after I arrived a few more people joined in. I was able to enjoy being in a group of 6 people for over two hours and later in the day with a group of 9 people for about an hour.

I won’t jump to any conclusions too quickly as there are various factors to consider. There are many different factors, many subtle, that affects how well I can survive in a group. Some things that I consider are:

  1. The nature of the topic and how it engages me has some bearing.
  2. The type of personalities within the  group. If someone is boisterous and dominating that will overload me quite quickly.
  3. The rhythm of the conversation has a bearing. By that I mean the ease with which I am able to interject into the conversation or how in tune others in the group are to noticing a quieter person who is trying to share.
  4. The coherence of the conversation. The more often the conversations breaks up into subgroups and then reemerges again has a noticeable wearing effect.

Challenge #4

When I first started biking after my ABI, I would startle every time a car or truck would come up from behind me and pass me. It was annoying and difficult to deal with because even with a rear view mirror when I could see the approaching vehicle I would be startled by the ‘whoosh’ as the vehicle passed. Thankfully that happens very rarely.

When I am cycling I regularly keep an eye on what is happening behind me. When I see a car approaching I check to see whether they are moving over, an indication that the driver has seen me. Once in awhile someone passes closer than the law allows. When that happens it leaves me slightly annoyed but it doesn’t startle me.

I don’t know why keeping an eye on traffic behind me leaves me feeling okay, while driving a car and the hyper vigilance that it induces leave me worn out.

I have taken measures to ensure a greater margin of safety as vehicles pass me. I wear a bright orange safety vest at all times. When the sky is overcast I use a flashing LED light that can be seen from a kilometer away. I put the light on flashing mode figuring that an inattentive driver will notice that much easier than a constant red light.

Conclusion

While the main motivation for my four day bike ride was training for a Pacific Ocean to Atlantic Ocean bike ride, it also gave me some insights into traveling by a different mode and how that impacts my ABI. Once I arrived at my destination I slept for 10 hours and then twice in the same day a 2 hour nap. Recuperating from physical fatigue is a much more enjoyable experience than recuperating from neurological fatigue. The sense of accomplishment without having incurred neuro fatigue is very satisfying and a real encouragement.

In the past four days I put myself through a more rigourous workout than the Sea to Sea cycling will be. This workout gave me insight into one part of the challenge I will be dealing with this summer. Cycling this summer with a group of about 100 people will likely give me new insights into dealing with other aspects of my ABI challenges.

And so the detective work and the detective training continues.

Finding a Gentler Way

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In the shade of a fieldstone wall

Conversing with a half dozen people is more wearing

Than biking 20 km in traffic

Participating in a worship service is more demanding

Than biking 30 km dodging rain showers

Walking into a store for a quick errand can be more frustrating

Than biking 40 km into a head wind

Listening to live music for half an hour requires more recuperation

Than biking 50 km through hilly country side

Driving for 4 hours will affect my balance more

Than biking for 60 km on a chilly day

 

Some activities have a way of causing neuro fatigue

While cycling rejuvenates the whole person

 

The physical exertion

The rhythmic movement

The outdoor ambience

Nature’s symphony;

The wind in the trees,

The call of the cardinal

The chirping of crickets

 

Sounds that respond to each other

Sounds that sidle up to you

Sounds that heal,

Sounds that sooth the senses

Sounds that lift one’s spirits

Being neurologically atypical, things don’t add up in a way that makes sense to others. While I am able to do certain activities with ease and experience satisfaction, there are plenty of activities that leave me challenged.

 

Over Compensating is my Insurance

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Every hill a new vista

In planning and preparing for my first multi-day (14 days) cycling event 4 years ago I did not have much time to train. As a result I decided that doing a 15 km (10 mile) ride 5 mornings a week would have to suffice for ‘training’. Now I should mention that the 15 km included about 120 meters of climbing and I gave it my all. Eventually that meant I could complete the 15 km in under 30 minutes. That give me a good aerobic workout and help build some strength in my legs.

Here I am 4 years later and once again preparing for a multi-day (70 day) cycling event. This time I have more time to do my training. No excuse this time for not having enough time to do the training.

It’s not my extra time that is making me diligent about my training. It’s that I am not sure what my endurance will be like this time. I don’t want my injuries to be a hindrance to my participation. Since my recovery and adjustment to living with ABI creates a big unknown factor, I feel compelled to over compensate. My diligence in training is focused on eliminating as many possible snags as I can.

So I make sure I can handle the distance – doing as many long distance rides as I can. Four years ago my longest pre-event ride was about 50 km.

So I make sure I can handle the climbing – I have taken on a Mt. Everest Challenge of climbing 8848 meters in one month of cycling. Last time I just didn’t check it out.

I have had some people wonder how I could possibly do a cross Canada (6700 km) ride while dealing with ABI. Fair question. While there are physical side effects to living with ABI, working on my physical endurance helps deal with other factors related to my ABI.

Cycling is a relaxed way to enjoy the countryside. Cycling is a way to live life at a relaxed pace. It means decisions that need to be made have time. The activity is not neurologically demanding. Recently while riding, I was doing fine, things were relaxed, the traffic decisions were fine. Then I stopped to pick up some granola bars at a grocery store. By the time I left the store I had encountered difficulties with 2 cashiers and in an attempt to moderate my frustration went back to the display shelf twice, and had the manager come over to see if she could be of help. I hope I had not been too irate with the cashiers, but I told the manager that the pricing of the products was just too confusing. The tags did not clearly show which products were on sale – or let me say I found it confusing and quickly overwhelming.

In reflecting on the situation later, a different manager might have has less patience for my confusion and possibly thrown me out of the store. I decided it’s easier to bike 50 or 80 km then to buy some granola bars in a busy grocery store with too many products on display and double and triple pricing information. (Regular price. Sale price for 1 item. Sale price for 3 items.)

When I started outdoor part of my training lately, the real significant of my ABI and physical effort started to become noticeable. On a regular ride I felt fine. On the longer and more strenuous rides I would arrive back at home and feel light headed. As I continued with my training the light headed experiences became less noticeable. My most recent ride of 140 km in one day left me with no side effects of being light headed. I have decided to do a 4 day ride in a couple of weeks to see if I need to make any adjustment before I leave for Vancouver to begin my cross Canada ride.

I chose to do a 4 day ride as part of a pattern I have developed while working with an OT. Each time I would undertake an activity she would ask me if it was the first time doing it since my brain injury. As a result I have camped in the back yard for a couple of nights before leaving home for a camping trip so I could make adjustments before doing the real thing.

The over compensating is partly due to not necessarily being able to adjust on the fly, something that I wouldn’t have thought twice about pre-ABI.

Broke all the Rules

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No planning – Just opportunities motivated by instinct

I am writing this in the wee hours of the morning because I am dealing with several side effects of attending an event that set me back. It’s not that I went into the event unaware and was blindsided. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I knew I would not emerge unscathed.

The fact that I am writing this when I would otherwise be sound asleep speaks to one of the side effects. For the past 3 weeks or more, as I have been doing some serious physical training, I have had no interrupted sleep. That is by far the longest stretch in over two years of finding quality sleep.

The past few hours have been different. My dreams have been wild. My dreams seemed just a bit too real, not being able to discern dream from reality. My dreams have been unsettling and upsetting. And right now I am wide awake because I can’t get back to sleep.

What got me into this

For one day I had put aside the intentional planning that my occupational therapist has been drilling into me for the past year. I did not work out a back up plan, unless retreating to a quiet place qualifies as a back up plan.

And yet, as I look back on the evening, I realize I have developed some habits that protect me from sensory overload and succumbing to extreme neural fatigue. I know to seat myself in an auditorium so that I can make an inconspicuous exit. Exiting from a venue that seems to cause disruption, perceived or real, adds significantly to my sensory loading and therefore my recovery time.

My decision to attend the event was a calculated decision based on an anticipated Cost/Benefit consideration. That’s why I am not surprised to come away from the event feeling content despite having my day, or rather night, significantly interrupted. I chose to attend a 50th anniversary celebration of an institution that I have been well connected with for 30 or more years. The sense of contentment in the middle of dealing with disruption comes from the affirmations that I serendipitously received in the course of the evening. At the same time, the sense of contentment comes from hearing from different people and how they are doing.

Modifications I find helpful

Large groups wear me done. With larger groups the negative effect is exponentially greater. The level of noise is a minor factor yet becomes significant over the course of a couple hours. More significant is the processing of too many sensory impressions in a short block of time; following conversations, reading body language, interpreting tone of voice, looking for segways into a conversation, and managing the emotions of the moment.

By seeking out quieter places, places with fewer people, I found myself engaged in one-on-one conversations and avoiding the complexity of small groups. By keeping myself visible in the quieter areas, people I know and have worked with ended up finding me and so I didn’t feel isolated.

Being in a banquet hall with 6 people at my table and another 300 guests in the hall is quickly overwhelming. I intentionally engaged with only the two guests on either side of me rather than the whole group at my table. The second modification that I made was to arrange with one of the guests at my table to text me at certain junctures in the event. So after some initial introductions I left the hall for awhile and re-emerged from time to time to catch the key elements of the evening.

Managing expectations

A big part of managing my ABI symptoms has to do with managing my expectations when I attend an event that I know will likely set me back. That’s where the Cost/Benefit plays a significant role. It might seem a bit selfish, but if the event won’t give me a boost then the negative after effects become a burden, threatening to cause a downward spiral that is clearly counter productive.

Blessings

20170509_101659The event has left me with many wonderful memories. By keeping my expectations low, yet allowing myself a certain level of vulnerability, wonderful experiences did emerge. I can recount many wonderful moments but let me share a couple of notables.

I had one mother of a former student share a number of experiences with me. The one she was most eager to share was how her daughter missed the whole first week of school. She was too nervous to bring herself to accept me as her teacher. In the end she decided that I had been her most inspiring teacher. I recounted with the mother her daughter’s strengths (from 15 years ago) and was not surprised to hear what activities she is presently doing.

After sharing briefly with one former colleague he offered to pray over me, to request healing. To me it spoke to his strength of character and his sense of ministry. And so there were a variety of different kinds of sharing throughout the evening that left me encouraged, hopeful and with a sense of being surrounded by people who care and seek to be supportive.

It might take a day or two to recover but after an event like last night it is not a discouraging or frustrating walk. The power of prayer, the power of living in community with arms reaching out, takes down the walls of isolation that an acquired brain injury easily creates.

And now, I’m ready to sleep some more. I need to be ready to do a short presentation in the morning – part of measured planning albeit, this one has a back up plan.