Concussion changes senior's role

The immediate effects of a concussion are pretty easy to spot. In fact, it required little medical expertise to determine that the blank gaze of Oklahoma college basketball standout Blake Griffin as he sat on the sidelines during a game in Texas on Feb. 21 was the result of one such injury.

Griffin looked lost as trainers and coaches tried to avert his attention from the action on the court. He desperately wanted to re-enter the game, but his handlers knew he was not all there following two separate blows to his head that he sustained battling in the paint.

His symptoms subsided and he was well enough to rejoin the Sooners' lineup a week later.

But not all victims of serious head injuries experience such a relatively quick and seamless recovery. In some cases, veiled symptoms can set in, marking the presence of post-concussion syndrome - a condition that former UConn hockey player Ryan Hawkins knows all too well.

Hawkins suffered multiple concussions, some playing junior hockey prior to his collegiate career and more since his arrival in Storrs. Consequently, he is chronically plagued with crippling headaches and severe pain in his neck and back. While he may appear fine to an uninformed onlooker, the mental state that Griffin was stricken with momentarily still lingers to this day for Hawkins, making the simplest of tasks often agonizing to complete. It is a fight he is learning to accept that may never fully go away.

"I'm still battling every day, still in pain 24/7," Hawkins said after last Friday's Senior Night festivities at the Freitas Ice Forum - a 4-1 win for the Huskies over Bentley. "I get headaches. My neck and back are equally as painful. I still can't skate. My headache kills me after I've been on my feet."

Hawkins, a native of Eden Prairie, Minn., has served as a volunteer member of UConn's coaching staff this season under head coach Bruce Marshall, something he was reluctant about when he first learned his injuries would keep him from ever playing hockey again.

"I was so used to my life revolving around playing the game," Hawkins said. "[When my coach asked me] I was like, 'are you serious? You want me on the ice?' But I didn't wanna sit at home and I talked to an old friend who told me it would be rewarding. I break down film and I know I'm helping."

Unable to take the ice to assist with any physical drills, Hawkins' contributions have come exclusively in the film room. Marshall expressed what an advantage it is to have a player in that role rather than an intern or an assistant, given Hawkins' understanding of nuances of the game that someone else might not pick up on. His willingness to stay with the team and help out despite his physical limitations is something Marshall views as courageous.

"It's really drained him, made it tough for him to kinda do anything," Marshall said. "It's always tough for a player - he came in here highly recruited - to say him, 'Hey, your career's over, now do you wanna kinda travel with us?' It's like, 'What do I look like? Am I just the waterboy?' But his teammates have too much respect for him. It's a good, strong senior class and it's his friends, so we knew the situation would be right."

As a Senior Night honoree last weekend, Hawkins was given the same matted jersey adorned-plaque that other graduating players received. While it was a nice culmination of his time at UConn and a cherished moment spent with family and lifelong friends, it was also understandably bittersweet.

"It meant a lot to me," Hawkins said. "It would have been great to do it on skates, but it was good to be with the guys I started this journey with. My parents have been second-to-none with what I'm going through and they were a huge part of my hockey career."

Hawkins scored five goals and recorded 16 assists over 50 career games played. He was starting to play some of his best hockey - becoming what he called a "go-to guy" - when a jarring hit in a game at Yale on Jan. 2, 2008 effectively shut him down for good. The way he describes the play is disturbing, but it reveals a lot about the largely unexplainable phenomenon that occurs when a person suffers a concussion.

"I didn't black out immediately, but I felt my brain move through my head," Hawkins said. "I tried to play the puck with my hands and I knew my balance was off immediately. I could skate but I just knew I wasn't there. It was the first shift of the game. I told my linemates, 'I'm not really here. I'm battling.' I didn't wanna tell the coaches and lose my spot.

"The ironic part is, on the bus I had a sick feeling, an inclination. I thought I was gonna get a hat trick or I was gonna get hurt."

Hawkins had played with pain on plenty of other occasions. Since enrolling at UConn, he's had a bout with vertigo, two MCL tears, a broken hand and a broken shoulder. He has also been on the wrong end of numerous hits he says have caused him to "see stars." His chin was lacerated on the same play against Yale last year, and after heading to the bench to cover the cut with some gauze, Hawkins actually played out the remainder of the contest.

He never took the ice again, when it was decided that any more trauma to his head could put his life at risk.

Unlike Griffin and other athletes who have had their concussions captured on live television, any indication that Hawkins is in anything less than good health is almost impossible to see. He does not wear the trance-like mask on his face that Griffin did when the initial injury occurred, nor does he currently require any medical aids to keep him on his feet and participating in everyday life. It is for this reason that he is most frustrated with the circumstances that have befallen him. He has constantly faced with the task of explaining his situation to people who he feels cannot possibly grasp what he is going through.

"You don't have a cast or a wheelchair," Hawkins said. "They don't know. They don't see it. People assume you're OK. They don't know how bad you're hurting. I'm on bed rest. I'm handicapped."

Even when all he wants to do is rest, it isn't uncommon for Hawkins to struggle to fall asleep until around 5 a.m., he says. His neck is a source of persistent pain and stiffness, making it difficult to turn his head all the way in either direction, and his head feels so heavy at times that Hawkins says it feels like "it weighs 100 pounds."

Keeping his head up in class is a struggle and the pain makes it difficult to concentrate for any extended amount of time. He is unable to sleep directly on his back or neck and when he wakes, he feels as if he is just come out of a coma. He refers to the sensation his headaches give him as "piercing", and it is all of these factors working collectively that amount to living in a world where it is simply difficult to function.

It has been especially tough to interact with teammates who are not used to seeing him so down and out.

"I used to be the biggest prankster," Hawkins said. "I was a type-A personality [before this]."

Teammates, coaches, team doctors and professors have all been instrumental in helping Hawkins to battle through the tough times, he says. He singled out the efforts of UConn's primary athletic physician, Dr. Jeffrey Anderson, and the way he has assisted him in seeking out specialized attention from other doctors for different aspects of his condition.

Bouncing around from doctor to doctor has not been easy though, and it is during preliminary visits that Hawkins has felt most helpless when it comes to reaffirming that he is indeed still struggling.

A recent stint at a Mayo clinic had Hawkins particularly disheartened. He learned that many people who suffer from post-concussion syndrome either abuse drugs or become suicidal. It was recommended that he undergo a month of pain rehabilitation. He left the facility feeling like there was no end in sight.

A phone call he received on the day of the Senior Night lifted his spirits.

"The baseball player, Corey Koskie - his doctor called me," Hawkins said after the game. "I was feeling down till today [last Friday]. We have a lot of similarities with what we're going through. God works in funny ways."

The Canadian-born Koskie, a once-promising third baseman with Hawkins' hometown Minnesota Twins, has taken a similar path since a concussion abruptly halted his big league career in 2006. Minneapolis-based physical therapist John Groves told Hawkins that he and Koskie were almost identical in their experience with the condition - feeling hopeless and incurable with no end in sight - and that he'd arrange for a meeting so they could talk. Groves has helped Koskie to rehab to the point of a baseball comeback once thought to be impossible. He enters the 2009 season with a minor league contract in the Chicago Cubs organization, as well as a spot on Canada's national team for the upcoming World Baseball Classic.

Hawkins is looking forward to talking with someone who can relate to the issues he is dealing with, but not until after the season is complete. He intends to fulfill his commitment to the team through this weekend's Atlantic Hockey playoffs. From there, he hopes graduation is not too far away and he said he would even like to study in Greece.

He's wary of looking too far ahead. Still, he remains optimistic.

"I can't make plans for a job, I can't plan for, you know, life," Hawkins said. "This always stares me in the face. But there's light at the end of the tunnel."