When Will the Footballers Ever Learn About Concussion?

Waylon and Willie said it best.  “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to play football.”  Wait, maybe they said cowboys.

Actually, it was a soccer player who came to visit me regarding chronic pain of the knee and ankle on one side, from soccer injuries.  He was only semi-pro, but so loved the game he could not and would not stop playing.  I suggested marijuana balm, instead of just knocking himself out with smoking.  He did have to work at his customary job as some sort of electrician on most days and could not “medicate” with marijuana until he got home.  This produced some pretty painful days.

I told him most folks could use it without getting a high enough blood level to get sleepy or high.  He was happy.  Most folks are happy, genuinely happy, when I tell them this.  The honesty and spontaneity of their responses to this is proof that there is a search going on to become pain-free without intoxication.  A lot of research is directed to this.  It is what people want.  People tell me it is the prescriptions that intoxicate them too much, and these people are real. Soccer is actually one of the few sports I have played.  I was far from a star in high school, but I once played on the neurosurgery department team at the Amiens University Medical Center in France.  I was the only girl, of course.  The team was hopelessly bad.  I was not the only reason.  We lost to another department — I am pretty sure it was the hematology-oncology department.  I think part of it was that none of the neurosurgeons on the team wanted the ball to bounce off their heads.  I am certain that deep down, we were all scared. In American football, at all levels, I wish somebody were scared of this sort of thing.

In San Diego, former NFL standout Junior Seau was beloved, and now he is very much gone.  I am very glad that his family sent his post-mortem brain for study.  The diagnosis, which is called CTE for “chronic traumatic encephalopathy,” is only made post mortem. The anatomical changes can start long after the last head bonk.  Some folks are trying to diagnose this before death — hooray.  Well, we have got to admit this can only be an improvement over post mortem diagnosis.  Maybe some can actually stop knocking heads before it is too late. All of the talk in the above link of “dementia pugilistica” reminds me of one of the more eccentric members of my family.  He was “adopted” when he became engaged to Aunt Charlotte, a nice Jewish lady down the street.  Uncle Eddie was an ex-boxer who enjoyed shadow-boxing unidentifiable people.  Once, his partner was identified as four year old me.  He spoke in cryptic rhymes like “Signorita/ can’t be sweeter” which presumably applied to mini me.

Even then, he seemed to have a cornucopia of memory deficits.  Aunt Charlotte came to consult my Grandmother-of-Blessed-Memory when, shortly after they were married, Uncle Eddie announced he had “forgotten” to tell her about his previous marriage, and the ex-wife and kids he had left in Florida.  Even then I was wondering how you get memory testing.  Aunt Charlotte stood with him, without benefit of testing. If they had not moved away to New York, I would definitely send his brain for CTE testing. People trying to figure out how to diagnose CTE before death are starting to talk about “gaps” in knowledge and the need for research.

Research.  I am back to this place where people ask me whether I am a researcher first or a doctor first.  Easy.  Doctor.  Why can’t people “just say no” to jobs that involve head-bonks.  Money?  People who are recruited while they are coasting through the invulnerable feelings that come with adolescence?  The people from the NFL do not seem to be forking over money for better helmets to protect their human investments.  Why should they with the return these investments have.  I suppose if they invested in a good lawyer to provide an informed consent, then why not.  Those coasting through those invulnerable feelings would probably sign it without reading. Maybe this is where we need cyborgs and synthetic humans.  Listen, don’t let humans play head-bonk sports. Just don’t.  Sing it with me, “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to play football.”