Living with a
Concussion

The third incident also occurred in the neutral zone. Another blindside to the head and this time in New York. I was out of commission for six weeks with that one and came back in the playoffs. Even though I was cleared to play, in hindsight I don’t think the concussion had completely healed. We now know an athlete must be as close to 100 percent recovered as possible before returning to play in their sport.

Then there’s the fourth concussion, the one in 2005, which I’ve never fully recovered from. After each trauma, it took longer for me to heal. Nearly seven years have passed since the last incident, and I still suffer from post-concussion syndrome.

I have symptoms that definitely weren’t there before all the concussions; headaches and head pressure are probably the most consistent. They don’t happen every day, but I have to ask myself how I really feel every time I wake up. I used to be able to jump out of bed and get right into my activities for the day. I’m a lot more lethargic than I ever was.

Because I’ve always been a really active guy, that lack of energy and the exercise-induced dizziness and lightheadedness are the most frustrating symptoms. They’ve plagued me for years, but I’m slowly recovering. I can get on the bike now, although it’s a pretty lame ride. But I can do it, nonetheless. That’s a good feeling, especially considering it’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to do something like that.

I’m also on the ice pretty much every day coaching my kids, but I haven’t worn full equipment since the day I retired. I can’t go back to where I was. I’d love the opportunity, but the risk-to-reward ratio is too severe for me. I’ve got a fear of falling and hitting my head, a fear of being run into, fear of suffering an injury.

The symptoms slow me down at times, but I don’t let them keep me from getting on with life, with my daily activities. On the days when I’m not feeling well, I have to work harder to get through those.

For me, the glass is always half full instead of half empty. It’s also easier for me to get on a plane and fly somewhere now. The pressure, the pain, seems to have resolved itself.

As I learned more about concussions, I realized that no two are alike, not even for the same person. People respond very differently to all the available treatments. I’ve done Eastern, Western and modern medicine…I’ve tried a lot of different things.

The most important thing to remember is the human element, even more so with kids. We all get caught up in the emotion of the game and can forget that a brain is far too important to put a game-related value on—that value being wins or losses for a team, a player, or a coach’s ego. It’s more important that the individual be safe and healthy, and that means being removed from play when an injury occurs instead of staying in for the sake of a win.

In most kids’ hockey (minor/house league) there are no doctors, trainers, therapists, or medical staff on site. The onus falls on parents, coaches, and kids to speak up and say some- thing’s not right. It’s tough for everybody to admit, but it needs to be done because we still don’t fully understand the danger of concussions and head trauma. We’re always learning more.

I like to say, “Real courage is having the ability to speak up.” For the longest time in hockey, the mentality has been about persevering, about being there for your teammates. But one way to accomplish that goal is by using your voice to speak up and say you don’t feel well. It makes it easier and more acceptable for everyone in the long run.

Keith Primeau crashes the net during the Eastern Conference finals (May 22, 2004).