Bibliographic record
Abstract
On October 28, 2008, my life changed. I was playing goalie for the Aurora Tigers Midget AA team. It was late in the second period when a player on the other team crashed my net. As I fell, the back of my head hit the goalpost and then the ice. The goal counted while (it is believed) I lay unconscious. I remember seeing all black as I lay on my back trying to catch my breath. I opened my eyes and slowly regained my breath. Because I was down for so long, I was required to go to the bench for the remainder of the period. My coach and trainer repeatedly asked, “are you okay to play?” I’m a competitive athlete and, like any competitive athlete, when questioned if they are okay to play, will always say “yes” regardless of the injury. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been given the option. I returned to play in the third period, after becoming very emotional; I told my team to protect me. The third period seemed to drift by with cloudy vision. It was a sensation I had experienced several times previously – I didn’t know it was a sign of concussion. The following day I had to leave school early. I had a constant migraine and didn’t feel right. At the hospital, I was told I had a concussion, not to play hockey until the headache was gone, and to keep attending school. The headache never went away. The symptoms were getting worse and I was not myself. After numerous trips to the emergency room, I was still without answers. On the outside, I appeared to be ‘normal’ – I didn’t have a cast or crutches – but I wasn’t okay. I had suffered a serious brain injury and did not take the proper steps to recover. I was in denial, and attempted to get back into game shape and play through the pain. It wasn’t working. I didn’t want to make it look like I was ‘milking it’. The culture of hockey and most sports is to play through the pain, which was the biggest mistake I could have made throughout my minor sports career. I finally got in touch with my doctor in London (Ontario) on January 2009, and was diagnosed with postconcussion syndrome, which was a result of the many concussions that went undetected during my years of playing hockey and lacrosse. I was ‘shut down’ from my final year of high school. Being shut down consists of sitting in a dark room for as long as possible: no hockey, no brain stimulation and no life. I finished high school through night and correspondence classes. I was advised to take a year off before university, but my competitive, high-achieving personality took over. I pushed through a partial course load at the expense of my brain. By the end of the year, I crashed both mentally and physically from trying to balance school, friends, a failing relationship and the university lifestyle. I could not return to university this year knowing that I was doing more brain damage and risking my long-term health. I chose to accept the sentence to be shut down. As I write this, I have spent seven months in complete darkness in an attempt to shake postconcussion syndrome. I still have the daily headache. Thankfully, it has improved. It is now a sharp pain, as opposed to the pressure, hangover-type I had experienced for more than two years. I am hopeful for a full recovery; however, I still struggle with short-term memory loss, sensitivity to light and sound, focus issues and not feeling ‘right’. I am at the point where I could cope and live with the way I am today, but it would be a much slower life than I would have ever anticipated. Looking back, I suspect that I had been experiencing symptoms of postconcussion syndrome for seven years before being diagnosed. My doctor and I believe that I sustained at least seven concussions and, with each one, I never had the opportunity to fully recover from the previous blow to the head. In previous years, I was the only goalie on my team. With the position came pressure to play every game but I, like most goalies, took pride in playing full seasons. At the time, I was well aware that I was playing through migraines, cloudy vision and flu-like symptoms, but I always had an explanation – not eating right or just having the flu. I made countless trips to my family doctor. I underwent several blood tests to determine what was wrong with me. I was tested for mononucleosis several times; the doctors were bewildered because tests always came back negative. After being cross-checked to the face during a game of lacrosse, I went to the emergency room but was told I did not sustain a concussion. I am certain that it was a concussion because I felt nauseous and had cloudy vision finishing the game. I think my experiences show that there is a lack of awareness regarding concussions, not only in the sporting world but in the medical profession as well. I don’t like to think about what my life would be like if I had not met my doctor. I hope that by sharing my story, I can help raise awareness about the risks and consequences of concussions. I was the hard-nosed hockey mind that didn’t want the game to change. I was the hockey mind that denies there is a concussion epidemic. It is time to admit that concussions are a significant problem in sports. It is time for this invisible injury to get the recognition it deserves. Concussions are brain injuries, and young people in sport are sustaining these injuries on a regular basis. During my 12 years playing hockey, I was never educated about concussion. In all those years, I think my coaches and trainers used the word ‘concussion’, at most, 10 times. Change is happening slowly, but there is a long way to go for education and awareness to catch up. Studies have proven that there is a problem. It is now time to stop talking about the issue and start taking action – in all minor league sports.
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How this classification was reachedexpand
Full frame machine prediction
Teacher imitationNot calibrated prevalence, not ground truth. Human validation pending. The Gemma side is a direct model label for every work in the frame, read from the title-only record. The Codex side is a classifier learned from the 10,348 direct Codex labels and calibrated to design-weighted sample rates; fields without enough sample support carry no Codex call. Candidate is the union of the two sides; consensus is their intersection. These outputs are machine_predicted_unvalidated and are not human labels.
Distilled classifier scores by category (both heads)
| Category | Codex | Gemma |
|---|---|---|
| Metaresearch | 0.002 | 0.009 |
| Meta-epidemiology (narrow) | 0.001 | 0.000 |
| Meta-epidemiology (broad) | 0.001 | 0.001 |
| Bibliometrics | 0.001 | 0.000 |
| Science and technology studies | 0.005 | 0.001 |
| Scholarly communication | 0.007 | 0.003 |
| Open science | 0.001 | 0.004 |
| Research integrity | 0.004 | 0.008 |
| Insufficient payload (model declined to judge) | 0.229 | 0.131 |
Machine scores (provisional)
The two teacher heads of the student model, read on this work. A score orders the frame for review; it never asserts a category, and the validation status ships verbatim with every row.
Baseline scores from an immature model (maturity gate not passed, 7 training rounds). Scores rank; they never assert a category.
score_only:v0-immature-baseline · verbatim from the scoring run: score_only means the number may rank works, and no category label ships from itClassification
machine, unvalidatedMachine predicted; a candidate call from one source (direct Gemma or distilled Codex), not a consensus.
How this classification was reached, model by model and score by score, is at the end of the page under "How this classification was reached".