Concussion

William and I were in Arizona last weekend for water polo and he wanted to see the movie Concussion in the hours between the end of camp and our flight home. We used Google maps to find a great little theater where we got to pick our seats - which turned out to be armchairs that reclined! So we were chillaxing in this little theater with our feet up and our eyelids fluttering, right up until minute the the movie started and I was poleaxed by images of heads butting, neurons shearing, and middle-aged men descending to madness before the horrified eyes of friends and family.

Having temporarily "lost my mind" at the height of my illness, I can assure you that nothing scares or sickens me more than the thought of going crazy. Pain, too, I've had enough of that for a long time. So to watch the forty and fifty-year-old former NFL stars suffer from CTE - enough pain and madness for suicide - hit way too close to home.

Our boys never wanted to play football, so that hasn't been an issue at our house. My problem now is that I don't even think I can watch football on TV - especially the NFL.  Any time I see a hard tackle I feel sick to my stomach.  I just saw the film last Sunday and it was difficult to make it through that evening and the next few days without being bombarded by football in the airport, on TV at home, and in the Denver Post, which often has a special section just for the Broncos, as well as headlines on page 1.

So I don't know how to navigate the upcoming playoff season. The Broncos apparently have a bye week this week so I can potentially avoid other games without internal conflict, but when the home team plays again on the 17th I might have a hard time. I feel like watching is supporting the game, even advocating the NFL, and that no longer feels like the sane alternative.