.
I was talking with a longtime business associate on the telephone today. We were catching up. After talking about business, we talked about my stroke. Then we talked about my friend Mimi's son who suffered a devastating brain injury resulting from a blow to the head that caused permanent disability. York shared with me the story of his 17-year-old daughter.
York's daughter is an athlete, a soccer player and cheerleader. York mentioned to me that he and his wife were concerned about their daughter because she had suffered her third concussion. Her doctors were insisting on a significant amount of time off from sports to recover from this concussion. Sometimes, I wonder if people realize the long-term brain damage that can result from fairly simple injuries.
As a boy and young adults, I suffered at least for concussions resulting from being knocked out. First, I was a gymnast. I got knocked out twice! On the first occasion, we were standing in line waiting to do the pommel horse. We always did limbering up exercises while waiting in line. The guy in front of me went into a hand stand, only his heels hit me in the chin and knocked me cold. Many months later, I was working on perfecting my hand stand on the parallel bars, but on one of the handstands, my right elbow did not lock. Instead of just letting myself down, I tried for a couple of seconds to lock the right elbow ... oops... bad decision ... the right elbow folded and I went on my head, knocking myself out again.
In the gymnastics off-season, I was a swimmer and diver. I was doing a reverse jackknife from the high platform. I have to admit, I was kind of a mediocre diver. On this dive, I didn't jump far enough away from the platform, cracked my head, and knocked myself out. Fortunately, it made a lot of noise, so the coach got me out of the pool right away.
They say, three times, a charm. Fooled again! I was no angel in high school. Like the lines of that old rocks soong, I was smokin' in the boys room. Some bully walked in and grab the cigarette out of my mouth and broke it. Bullies are we like to pick on the little kid. He really made me angry. I made some smart remark to him. Then he started getting physical, like all bullies. Being a small guy, always one of the one or two smallest in my class I didn't wait for it to escalate. I had no interest in getting knocked around. Most of the jerks in school at lease knew that I was a gymnast, and usually just left me alone. But this particular jerk apparently was new. He started pushing me and shoving me and asking me if I wanted the fight. I just kept backing up. I just kept avoiding a confrontation. But then he made a fist, and cocked his arm, ready to hit me. That was it. I wasn't going to get hit. There was no more room to back up or to get around him and get out the door. So, very quickly, and I might also add, unexpectedly, grabbed him around the neck, put them on the floor and choked him. I guess I embarrassed them to. The next day, he walked up the hallway and approach me from behind, at my locker. I never saw him. He tapped me on the shoulder and KO'd me with a roll of quarters in his fist. I was out quite a while! I got suspended for a day. He got expelled.
Repeated head injuries, even those which seem minor at the time, can have dramatic, long-term effects. How many boxers ended up like Mohammed Ali? He only got knocked out a few times in his career. However, the cumulative effect could have easily precipitated the Parkinson's disease which he suffered not too long after his retirement. How many of us could be walking around with ticking time bombs locke up inside our skull? I will probably never know if those repeated knockouts in my youth contributed to the TIAs, and ultimately the stroke that I suffered, there is certainly a high likelihood of correlation.
If you or someone you love has ever been hit in the head and dazed or knocked unconscious, do yourself a huge favor. Learn it, know, and watch for the signs of stroke. Like the saying, you can never be too rich or too thin, you can never be too cautious or too overly concerned when it comes to worrying about head injuries.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Practice makes perfect? Or: That’s why they call it the practice of medicine. 0080
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Doctors amazed me. In fact, the entire medical establishment amazes me. think about it. Nurses care for you. They take care of you. nurses treat you. One says, “I am a nurse.” Or, one may say, ”He or she is a nurse.” But you never hear anybody say, “She practices nursing.” on the other hand, you often hear of a cardiology practice or in internal medicine practice, or “She practices internal medicine.”
Frankly, I don’t want someone who’s going to practice on me! I want someone who knows what they’re going to do. I want somebody who practiced on somebody else. Or, at least I want somebody was being supervised by somebody who doesn’t practice any more! Practice on the other guy. Treat me.
While I am at it, I have another bone to pick. If I need a plumber, I look up plumbers, and I select the best price with the best experience for the job I need done. I pay for it. The same goes for the people who cut my grass, clean my carpets, replace my Windows, and sell me car insurance. My employer doesn't pay my car insurance. (I wish they did.)
Now, I am typically not placing my life in any of those peoples hands. Sometimes, I may opt for the cheapest price. Sometimes, I may opt for the best price with the right level of experience. However, when it comes to medical care, in this country, we usually leave it up to someone else. This typically, we have the customer. We aren't a liar. Our employer is.
How many of us have employer paid health insurance? How many of us have HMO or PPO plans? How many of us have someone else tell us what Dr. we can see or what medical procedure or test we can have done? It’s a life-and-death decision which is handled by organizations that are looking for the cheapest price and are paid by somebody else, somebody else who isn't sick, injured or dying! The person footing the bill doesn't have a stake in the treatment. They wanted cheap, not good, not excellent. They are happy with people at practice.
We wonder why health care and health insurance is so expensive. Well, it's simple marketing. If I have one guy competing to sell me a peanut, and he's the only guy with a peanut, and all my neighbors want to buy that same one, the peanut is going to go to the highest bidder. But if there is thousands people selling peanuts, thousands of peanuts, and millions of buyers -- there is more competition. Peanuts get cheaper. We need millions of individuals to be competing for cheap healthcare and cheap insurance, not just thousands of companies. There are approximately 300,000,000 people in the United States. 300 million shoppers can definitely get a better price than 300,000, or the Fortune 1000, or the Fortune 100. There is very little economic incentive to cut medical costs in this country.
By the way, is everybody entitled to a $500,000 or million Dollar medical procedure? Is everyone entitled to the best possible care, the best care they're willing to pay for, or the best care they can afford ? Good question! Nobody is willing to pay me $1 million a year right now -- however, some insurance company might end up having a $1 million in medical expenses! That's just weird.
We maybe the doctors patient, but we are certainly not the doctors customer. That bothers me!. I don’t let my employer pick my grass cutter or my plumber -- and they’re not even going to kill me if they screw up! do I really trust corporate America with my life? Something is definitely wrong with this picture.
Doctors amazed me. In fact, the entire medical establishment amazes me. think about it. Nurses care for you. They take care of you. nurses treat you. One says, “I am a nurse.” Or, one may say, ”He or she is a nurse.” But you never hear anybody say, “She practices nursing.” on the other hand, you often hear of a cardiology practice or in internal medicine practice, or “She practices internal medicine.”
Frankly, I don’t want someone who’s going to practice on me! I want someone who knows what they’re going to do. I want somebody who practiced on somebody else. Or, at least I want somebody was being supervised by somebody who doesn’t practice any more! Practice on the other guy. Treat me.
While I am at it, I have another bone to pick. If I need a plumber, I look up plumbers, and I select the best price with the best experience for the job I need done. I pay for it. The same goes for the people who cut my grass, clean my carpets, replace my Windows, and sell me car insurance. My employer doesn't pay my car insurance. (I wish they did.)
Now, I am typically not placing my life in any of those peoples hands. Sometimes, I may opt for the cheapest price. Sometimes, I may opt for the best price with the right level of experience. However, when it comes to medical care, in this country, we usually leave it up to someone else. This typically, we have the customer. We aren't a liar. Our employer is.
How many of us have employer paid health insurance? How many of us have HMO or PPO plans? How many of us have someone else tell us what Dr. we can see or what medical procedure or test we can have done? It’s a life-and-death decision which is handled by organizations that are looking for the cheapest price and are paid by somebody else, somebody else who isn't sick, injured or dying! The person footing the bill doesn't have a stake in the treatment. They wanted cheap, not good, not excellent. They are happy with people at practice.
We wonder why health care and health insurance is so expensive. Well, it's simple marketing. If I have one guy competing to sell me a peanut, and he's the only guy with a peanut, and all my neighbors want to buy that same one, the peanut is going to go to the highest bidder. But if there is thousands people selling peanuts, thousands of peanuts, and millions of buyers -- there is more competition. Peanuts get cheaper. We need millions of individuals to be competing for cheap healthcare and cheap insurance, not just thousands of companies. There are approximately 300,000,000 people in the United States. 300 million shoppers can definitely get a better price than 300,000, or the Fortune 1000, or the Fortune 100. There is very little economic incentive to cut medical costs in this country.
By the way, is everybody entitled to a $500,000 or million Dollar medical procedure? Is everyone entitled to the best possible care, the best care they're willing to pay for, or the best care they can afford ? Good question! Nobody is willing to pay me $1 million a year right now -- however, some insurance company might end up having a $1 million in medical expenses! That's just weird.
We maybe the doctors patient, but we are certainly not the doctors customer. That bothers me!. I don’t let my employer pick my grass cutter or my plumber -- and they’re not even going to kill me if they screw up! do I really trust corporate America with my life? Something is definitely wrong with this picture.
Stoned again! Redux: living with kidney stones (0070)
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When it rains, it pours. Right after I had my stroke, I went to the doctor about a pain in my back on the right side. My family doctor sent me to a specialist. The specialist decided that I had kidney stones.
I have had kidney stones before. Now for those of you who are uneducated, there are two distinct types of kidney stones. The most common kind is caused by calcium buildup to the kidney the second, and by far more rare, is the uric acids Crystal buildup in the kidney resulting from a condition called gout. the symptoms are similar, but the treatments are completely different. For uric acid crystals, they pump you up with fluids and wait. The stone resolves itself. Usually. With calcium-based kidney stones, they generally do a process called lithotripsy where they use ultrasonic vibrations to smash the stone to sand. You then eliminate it naturally, well, sort of naturally. Mistake number one. I have a history of gout. I told the doctor that. Even so, he still recommended lithotripsy. That's what happens when you go to a surgeon. He recommends what he knows.
I talked to a number of people about lithotripsy. I talked to both doctors and patients. Basically, the cure can be worse than the disease. Unless your stones are killing you, don't do it. Based on that advice, I didn't. And, of course, the doctor was not happy. However, realizing that the stones resulted of the gout, the doctor prescribed allopurinol, which is fine. However, with a list of all my meds in his hands, he prescribed potassium citrate. Other than the fact that that drug interacts with every other medication I was taking, and which the doctor had on his list, it was fine.
Well, it nearly killed me. It crashed my blood pressure. Everybody asked me what he prescribe. Now I'm debating whether to sue over. I probably won't. Bad karma.
When it rains, it pours. Right after I had my stroke, I went to the doctor about a pain in my back on the right side. My family doctor sent me to a specialist. The specialist decided that I had kidney stones.
I have had kidney stones before. Now for those of you who are uneducated, there are two distinct types of kidney stones. The most common kind is caused by calcium buildup to the kidney the second, and by far more rare, is the uric acids Crystal buildup in the kidney resulting from a condition called gout. the symptoms are similar, but the treatments are completely different. For uric acid crystals, they pump you up with fluids and wait. The stone resolves itself. Usually. With calcium-based kidney stones, they generally do a process called lithotripsy where they use ultrasonic vibrations to smash the stone to sand. You then eliminate it naturally, well, sort of naturally. Mistake number one. I have a history of gout. I told the doctor that. Even so, he still recommended lithotripsy. That's what happens when you go to a surgeon. He recommends what he knows.
I talked to a number of people about lithotripsy. I talked to both doctors and patients. Basically, the cure can be worse than the disease. Unless your stones are killing you, don't do it. Based on that advice, I didn't. And, of course, the doctor was not happy. However, realizing that the stones resulted of the gout, the doctor prescribed allopurinol, which is fine. However, with a list of all my meds in his hands, he prescribed potassium citrate. Other than the fact that that drug interacts with every other medication I was taking, and which the doctor had on his list, it was fine.
Well, it nearly killed me. It crashed my blood pressure. Everybody asked me what he prescribe. Now I'm debating whether to sue over. I probably won't. Bad karma.
You are what you carry (0061)
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First, a serious note. Then we'll have time for a little humor.
Physically, my recovery was pretty remarkable. I got out of the wheelchair. I forced myself to. I got my right arm out of the sling. I could walk on cement, concrete and hard surfaces. I started walking with a cane, one of those canes that has four legs on it. Gradually, I started walking on grass and uneven surfaces.
But, as my physical improvement progressed, the disruption of my sleep schedule continued. On top
of that, the almost year long euphoria evaporated. I was beset by a crushing, suicidal depression. I literally wanted to end it all. Fortunately, I have a higher than average IQ. I could see, could realize what was happening to me. I’m convinced that it was by sheer willpower alone that I didn’t just slit my wrists. Every time those thoughts entered my head I thought about my kids. I thought about my mother. I thought how upset they would be. And frankly, even though I am a physical and financial mess, I still managed to help my kids and my mother. I think that’s the only thing that kept me going.
Now it's time for a funny, illustrative story of strokes in human behavior.
Okay, I admit it. I'm getting old. But you people under 50 should really watch this TV show. I mean, the guy was cool. He lived in a wild West, always dressed up, didn't even limp, but carried this amazingly cool black cane with a silver handle, kind of a ball shaped affair. Very debonair.
I went from being paralyzed in the hospital, to negotiating my way in a wheelchair when I went home to finally walking with a serious lip. For a long time, my right arm was in a sling and totally useless. But now things are getting better.
I switched to a regular cane. I got better and better at it. Now, in familiar surroundings, I walk without a cane. I noticed something. If you limp, and have a weak arm, and don’t walk with a cane -- people look at you funny and young children (at least the bratty ones) snicker. However, a man with a cane... that is sophistication. A man with a cane is someone to be reckoned with. A man with a cane gets doors opened for him.a man with a cane is called Sir!
Of course, that depends on what kind of cane you carry, I discovered. I have a fancy, jet black, L-shaped affair that I got to go with my tuxedo for my son’s wedding. It is very debonair! Walking with a that cane garners instant respect. I had one of those aluminum jobs with the foam rubber on the handle. It was better than limping nakedly, but only marginally. I think people take pity on somebody with one of those aluminum and foam rubber jobs. However, my jet black number, that gets respect. isn’t it amazing how appearances affect behavior?
I eventually got my arm out of the sling. I was in the sling because the weight of my arm hanging down was actually separating my shoulder joint! Again, with therapy, I gradually got back the use of my arm. It’s not like it was. I have no fine motor skills. I can pick things up. I can hold a hammer. I can do things that don’t require fine motor control. So, I guess, typing is out of the question Thank God I was left-handed!
Maybe I'll just mosey on down, and get myself a derby hat!
Back when the west was very young, There lived a man named Masterson.
He wore a cane and derby hat, They called him Bat - Bat Masterson.
A man of steel the stories say But women's eyes all glanced his way
A gambler's game he always won. His name was Bat - Bat Masterson The trail that he blazed is still there. No one has come since, to replace his name. And those with too ready a trigger, Forgot to figger on his lightning cane.
Now in the legend of the West, One name stands out of all the rest. The man who had the fastest gun, His name was Bat - Bat Masterson.
-- Theme song from Bat Masterson TV show
First, a serious note. Then we'll have time for a little humor.
Physically, my recovery was pretty remarkable. I got out of the wheelchair. I forced myself to. I got my right arm out of the sling. I could walk on cement, concrete and hard surfaces. I started walking with a cane, one of those canes that has four legs on it. Gradually, I started walking on grass and uneven surfaces.
But, as my physical improvement progressed, the disruption of my sleep schedule continued. On top
of that, the almost year long euphoria evaporated. I was beset by a crushing, suicidal depression. I literally wanted to end it all. Fortunately, I have a higher than average IQ. I could see, could realize what was happening to me. I’m convinced that it was by sheer willpower alone that I didn’t just slit my wrists. Every time those thoughts entered my head I thought about my kids. I thought about my mother. I thought how upset they would be. And frankly, even though I am a physical and financial mess, I still managed to help my kids and my mother. I think that’s the only thing that kept me going.
Now it's time for a funny, illustrative story of strokes in human behavior.
Okay, I admit it. I'm getting old. But you people under 50 should really watch this TV show. I mean, the guy was cool. He lived in a wild West, always dressed up, didn't even limp, but carried this amazingly cool black cane with a silver handle, kind of a ball shaped affair. Very debonair.
I went from being paralyzed in the hospital, to negotiating my way in a wheelchair when I went home to finally walking with a serious lip. For a long time, my right arm was in a sling and totally useless. But now things are getting better.
I switched to a regular cane. I got better and better at it. Now, in familiar surroundings, I walk without a cane. I noticed something. If you limp, and have a weak arm, and don’t walk with a cane -- people look at you funny and young children (at least the bratty ones) snicker. However, a man with a cane... that is sophistication. A man with a cane is someone to be reckoned with. A man with a cane gets doors opened for him.a man with a cane is called Sir!
Of course, that depends on what kind of cane you carry, I discovered. I have a fancy, jet black, L-shaped affair that I got to go with my tuxedo for my son’s wedding. It is very debonair! Walking with a that cane garners instant respect. I had one of those aluminum jobs with the foam rubber on the handle. It was better than limping nakedly, but only marginally. I think people take pity on somebody with one of those aluminum and foam rubber jobs. However, my jet black number, that gets respect. isn’t it amazing how appearances affect behavior?
I eventually got my arm out of the sling. I was in the sling because the weight of my arm hanging down was actually separating my shoulder joint! Again, with therapy, I gradually got back the use of my arm. It’s not like it was. I have no fine motor skills. I can pick things up. I can hold a hammer. I can do things that don’t require fine motor control. So, I guess, typing is out of the question Thank God I was left-handed!
Maybe I'll just mosey on down, and get myself a derby hat!
Stroke and Insomnia...Sleepless in Seattle (0050)
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Pace ... sit ... watched TV... read ... pay some more ... lay in bed with eyes closed ... lay in bed with eyes open ... pace ... I think I will go crazy if this doesn't quit soon. Insomnia. The inability to sleep. It was driving me nuts.
The average person needs eight hours of sleep a night. There are basically three sleep stages. The eight hours is divided into a) about 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to get to sleep, b) 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to wake up, and c) three hours of deep, restful, dreamless sleep known technically as somnambulism, otherwise known as deep sleep (getting there and waking up are called REM, initials for rapid eye movement, characteristic of that form of sleep).
Some people, either naturally or through training, can get to deep sleep very quickly. Those people need the ability to sleep three hours, and spend whatever time it takes to fall asleep and wake up. falling asleep and waking up times seem to have no effect on the body.
When I was younger, As a result of training, I used to sleep only about four hours a day. It gradually became more as I grew older. but basically, anybody can train themselves to fall asleep and wake up quickly. I used to be able to sleep on planes trains and automobiles. Basically, if I was moving and not driving, I slept. It was a very useful skill.
For the first several months after my stroke, sleeping was not the problem. I'd sack out of 8 or 9 PM and wake up by 5 or 6 AM. It was actually a very nice schedule. I also noticed, I might trip to Connecticut, but I hadn't lost my skill of falling asleep on the airplane. Life was good.
It was after I got to Connecticut that I started having problems. At first, I attributed to a new environment, doing something exciting, lots of reasons. two years after my stroke, I still found that I had major, periodic sleep disturbances.
Pace ... sit ... watched TV... read ... pay some more ... lay in bed with eyes closed ... lay in bed with eyes open ... pace ... I think I will go crazy if this doesn't quit soon. Insomnia. The inability to sleep. It was driving me nuts.
The average person needs eight hours of sleep a night. There are basically three sleep stages. The eight hours is divided into a) about 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to get to sleep, b) 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to wake up, and c) three hours of deep, restful, dreamless sleep known technically as somnambulism, otherwise known as deep sleep (getting there and waking up are called REM, initials for rapid eye movement, characteristic of that form of sleep).
Some people, either naturally or through training, can get to deep sleep very quickly. Those people need the ability to sleep three hours, and spend whatever time it takes to fall asleep and wake up. falling asleep and waking up times seem to have no effect on the body.
When I was younger, As a result of training, I used to sleep only about four hours a day. It gradually became more as I grew older. but basically, anybody can train themselves to fall asleep and wake up quickly. I used to be able to sleep on planes trains and automobiles. Basically, if I was moving and not driving, I slept. It was a very useful skill.
For the first several months after my stroke, sleeping was not the problem. I'd sack out of 8 or 9 PM and wake up by 5 or 6 AM. It was actually a very nice schedule. I also noticed, I might trip to Connecticut, but I hadn't lost my skill of falling asleep on the airplane. Life was good.
It was after I got to Connecticut that I started having problems. At first, I attributed to a new environment, doing something exciting, lots of reasons. two years after my stroke, I still found that I had major, periodic sleep disturbances.
Reconnecting (0040)
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Before my stroke, I was a highly active, some would say hyperactive person. I was pretty much a daredevil. I tried bungee jumping, parasailing, motorcycle riding. Once, my wife and I actually got in a cage to pet a full grown female tiger! (Personally,I still marvel that we did that! That definitely scared me. Also, by the way, Tigers smell bad! ) I loved to fly airplanes. I was a private pilot and spent most of my flight hours in a four passenger Cessna Skyhawk. I loved it. My wife was a bit of a daredevil two. She took flying lessons with me. Unfortunately, my kids weren’t quite so adventuresome. They refuse to get in a private plane with me!
Well, my son doesn’t even want to get into a commercial airliner. There wasn’t much that I wouldn’t try at least once.
With that type of personal history, more than a few people wondered why I seemed so euphoric in the hospital. My condition certainly precluded a lot of activities that I used to enjoy.
I spent more than a month in the hospital and in the rehabilitation ward, recovering from my stroke. One thing that amazed many people, including my family, including me…was my unusually good mood. Here I was – no income, in the hospital, paralyzed on the right side and unable to walk or use my right arm or hand. You would think that would be a very depressing thing. But I wasn’t depressed at all. My kids and my mother, at the time, attributed it to some really good rugs they must have been giving me. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that I was now taking the same drugs that I was taking in the hospital. There were no magic mushrooms to perk up my mood. Just stuff to keep the blood pressure down, fight off blood clots and keep the gout under control. That’s it.
What accounted for my unusual attitude in the hospital? If you couldn’t walk or use your right arm, scooting around in a wheelchair, and were now dependent upon the people around you when you were fiercely independent before – that would seem like a prescription for depression.
After talking with my stroke doctor, Dr. Hayes, I figured it out. I had lived a high-pressure lifestyle. The highs were enormously high. The lows were cavernously low. Very little time was spent in the middle ground. Although I love my kids and my kids love me, my romantic relationships managed to alienate them. My relationships were volatile. I was an all or nothing person.
The euphoria that I experienced after my stroke wasn’t due to drugs and wasn’t experiential. It was because, for the first time in my life, I really treasured those simple things in life that we take for granted in our daily lives, that we forget about when we are busy – family and friends. Disabled as I was, the workforce would have to wait. My kids, my mother, a few of my close friends were the most important things in my life. Their presence, their happiness and their companionship was what made me happy.
While I was sick I lost my house and most of my personal possessions! I only had a couple of van loads of stuff left. It was a very buddhist-like existence, forsaking the things of this temporal world. But I had family and friends. My partner Adam had been my friend for more than 20 years and he stood by me. My friend Arnie, ditto.
As my recovery progressed, I found a few more of those old friends. Bill, Tara, Andrew and Sheila, Jonathan, Mimi, Charlotta, Adam2 and Zannell, Frank, Manny, and more than I can even remember have stayed in touch and supported me throughout my ongoing recovery. That’s worth more than cash -- well, it’s worth more than cash as long as you can still afford to eat.
Good Drugs Dude!
Once you have an ischemic stroke, a stroke caused by a blood clot, you spend the rest of your life on drugs. Here is the cocktail they had me on in the beginning, and modified today.
Plavix is the first drug introduced. Plavix has largely replaced the previous clot reducer, heprin, which had far more side effects. Plavix reduces the chance of having a second incident.
Metforemin is a drug that replaces the need for insulin in type II diabetics. Diabetes is common in stroke victims as the damage to the brain frequently reduces the body's ability to regulate its own insulin production.
Lipitor, known technically as atorvastatin, reduces the amount of bad cholesterol, known as low-density lipoprotein, LDL, while at the same time, usually increasing the amount of good cholesterol, high-density lipoprotein, a or HDL. The build up of LDL in the blood stream often contributes stroke.
Lisinopril is in a group of drugs called ACE inhibitors. ACE stands for angiotensin converting enzyme. Lisinopril is used to treat high blood pressure (hypertension), congestive heart failure, and to improve survival after a stroke.
Vesicare, in my case, was prescribed but eventually eliminated. One of the side effects of stroke and paralysis of one side of the body is often incontinence (unpredictable urination). However, as my condition continued to improve, this drug was eliminated.
In my particular case, I have long had a history of gout, or the build up of uric acid crystals in the body originally, this condition caused the joints in my lower extremity, hips, knees and feet to swell and become painful as the uric acid crystals build up in the joints. There are two types of gout. Overproduction of uric acid and the inability to eliminate uric acid. In my case, it was not the body's ability to eliminate uric acid, but rather the overproduction of uric acid which caused the problems. I was prescribed allopurinol to reduce my body's production of uric acid.
Prior to my stroke, Gout had become a bigger problem. Instead of just accumulating in my joints, were eliminated, the uric acid started building up in my kidney. The resul was kidney stones. Most people get kidney stones as a result of a buildup of calcium in the kidneys, and various medical procedures including lithotripsy are required. With gout however the production of uric acid can result in uric acid kidney stones rather than calcium kidney stones. However, the symptoms are the same.
Post stroke, I was affected by kidney stones. However, the pain associated with the kidney stones did not occur as the nervous system was deadened on the right side of my body. Eventually I discovered the problem and went to a doctor who wanted to perform lithotripsy. After talking to many people who lithotripsy done, and upon finding out that it was indicated only for calcium kidney stones, I opted for the process of patiently waiting for them to dissolve. However, the doctor who was treating me for kidney stones also prescribed allopurinol, since I hadn't taken it for years. He also prescribed potassium citrate, which is often given in conjunction with allopurinol.
There's just one problem! Potassium citrate adversely interact with virtually every other drug that I was prescribed. I'm still not quite sure why, given a list of the drugs I was currently taking, the doctor didn't notice that. I'm even more distressed that the pharmacy which runs a drug interaction program didn't bother to tell me either! My normal blood pressure is around 120 to 140 over 70 to 80. On two separate occasions my blood pressure dropped to 60/40. That's nearly dead! It took two trips to the emergency room before the emergency room attendants discovered that the potassium citrate was interacting with the other drugs, all the other drugs, but I was taking.
Frankly, I'm lucky to be alive. People have died from such drug interactions.
Add section about strokes and depression.
Note: as write about cycle -- originally had ADD, very fast cycle. And the TIAs and stroke recovery progressed, cycles lengthened. Discuss amplitude pre-and post-stroke.
Before my stroke, I was a highly active, some would say hyperactive person. I was pretty much a daredevil. I tried bungee jumping, parasailing, motorcycle riding. Once, my wife and I actually got in a cage to pet a full grown female tiger! (Personally,I still marvel that we did that! That definitely scared me. Also, by the way, Tigers smell bad! ) I loved to fly airplanes. I was a private pilot and spent most of my flight hours in a four passenger Cessna Skyhawk. I loved it. My wife was a bit of a daredevil two. She took flying lessons with me. Unfortunately, my kids weren’t quite so adventuresome. They refuse to get in a private plane with me!
Well, my son doesn’t even want to get into a commercial airliner. There wasn’t much that I wouldn’t try at least once.
With that type of personal history, more than a few people wondered why I seemed so euphoric in the hospital. My condition certainly precluded a lot of activities that I used to enjoy.
I spent more than a month in the hospital and in the rehabilitation ward, recovering from my stroke. One thing that amazed many people, including my family, including me…was my unusually good mood. Here I was – no income, in the hospital, paralyzed on the right side and unable to walk or use my right arm or hand. You would think that would be a very depressing thing. But I wasn’t depressed at all. My kids and my mother, at the time, attributed it to some really good rugs they must have been giving me. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that I was now taking the same drugs that I was taking in the hospital. There were no magic mushrooms to perk up my mood. Just stuff to keep the blood pressure down, fight off blood clots and keep the gout under control. That’s it.
What accounted for my unusual attitude in the hospital? If you couldn’t walk or use your right arm, scooting around in a wheelchair, and were now dependent upon the people around you when you were fiercely independent before – that would seem like a prescription for depression.
After talking with my stroke doctor, Dr. Hayes, I figured it out. I had lived a high-pressure lifestyle. The highs were enormously high. The lows were cavernously low. Very little time was spent in the middle ground. Although I love my kids and my kids love me, my romantic relationships managed to alienate them. My relationships were volatile. I was an all or nothing person.
The euphoria that I experienced after my stroke wasn’t due to drugs and wasn’t experiential. It was because, for the first time in my life, I really treasured those simple things in life that we take for granted in our daily lives, that we forget about when we are busy – family and friends. Disabled as I was, the workforce would have to wait. My kids, my mother, a few of my close friends were the most important things in my life. Their presence, their happiness and their companionship was what made me happy.
While I was sick I lost my house and most of my personal possessions! I only had a couple of van loads of stuff left. It was a very buddhist-like existence, forsaking the things of this temporal world. But I had family and friends. My partner Adam had been my friend for more than 20 years and he stood by me. My friend Arnie, ditto.
As my recovery progressed, I found a few more of those old friends. Bill, Tara, Andrew and Sheila, Jonathan, Mimi, Charlotta, Adam2 and Zannell, Frank, Manny, and more than I can even remember have stayed in touch and supported me throughout my ongoing recovery. That’s worth more than cash -- well, it’s worth more than cash as long as you can still afford to eat.
Good Drugs Dude!
Once you have an ischemic stroke, a stroke caused by a blood clot, you spend the rest of your life on drugs. Here is the cocktail they had me on in the beginning, and modified today.
Plavix is the first drug introduced. Plavix has largely replaced the previous clot reducer, heprin, which had far more side effects. Plavix reduces the chance of having a second incident.
Metforemin is a drug that replaces the need for insulin in type II diabetics. Diabetes is common in stroke victims as the damage to the brain frequently reduces the body's ability to regulate its own insulin production.
Lipitor, known technically as atorvastatin, reduces the amount of bad cholesterol, known as low-density lipoprotein, LDL, while at the same time, usually increasing the amount of good cholesterol, high-density lipoprotein, a or HDL. The build up of LDL in the blood stream often contributes stroke.
Lisinopril is in a group of drugs called ACE inhibitors. ACE stands for angiotensin converting enzyme. Lisinopril is used to treat high blood pressure (hypertension), congestive heart failure, and to improve survival after a stroke.
Vesicare, in my case, was prescribed but eventually eliminated. One of the side effects of stroke and paralysis of one side of the body is often incontinence (unpredictable urination). However, as my condition continued to improve, this drug was eliminated.
In my particular case, I have long had a history of gout, or the build up of uric acid crystals in the body originally, this condition caused the joints in my lower extremity, hips, knees and feet to swell and become painful as the uric acid crystals build up in the joints. There are two types of gout. Overproduction of uric acid and the inability to eliminate uric acid. In my case, it was not the body's ability to eliminate uric acid, but rather the overproduction of uric acid which caused the problems. I was prescribed allopurinol to reduce my body's production of uric acid.
Prior to my stroke, Gout had become a bigger problem. Instead of just accumulating in my joints, were eliminated, the uric acid started building up in my kidney. The resul was kidney stones. Most people get kidney stones as a result of a buildup of calcium in the kidneys, and various medical procedures including lithotripsy are required. With gout however the production of uric acid can result in uric acid kidney stones rather than calcium kidney stones. However, the symptoms are the same.
Post stroke, I was affected by kidney stones. However, the pain associated with the kidney stones did not occur as the nervous system was deadened on the right side of my body. Eventually I discovered the problem and went to a doctor who wanted to perform lithotripsy. After talking to many people who lithotripsy done, and upon finding out that it was indicated only for calcium kidney stones, I opted for the process of patiently waiting for them to dissolve. However, the doctor who was treating me for kidney stones also prescribed allopurinol, since I hadn't taken it for years. He also prescribed potassium citrate, which is often given in conjunction with allopurinol.
There's just one problem! Potassium citrate adversely interact with virtually every other drug that I was prescribed. I'm still not quite sure why, given a list of the drugs I was currently taking, the doctor didn't notice that. I'm even more distressed that the pharmacy which runs a drug interaction program didn't bother to tell me either! My normal blood pressure is around 120 to 140 over 70 to 80. On two separate occasions my blood pressure dropped to 60/40. That's nearly dead! It took two trips to the emergency room before the emergency room attendants discovered that the potassium citrate was interacting with the other drugs, all the other drugs, but I was taking.
Frankly, I'm lucky to be alive. People have died from such drug interactions.
(Reference exploding pill story here).
Add section about strokes and depression.
Note: as write about cycle -- originally had ADD, very fast cycle. And the TIAs and stroke recovery progressed, cycles lengthened. Discuss amplitude pre-and post-stroke.
Reconnecting
Before my stroke, I was a highly active, some would say hyperactive person. I was pretty much a daredevil. I tried bungee jumping, parasailing, motorcycle riding. Once, my wife and I actually got in a cage to pet a full grown female tiger! (Personally,I still marvel that we did that! That definitely scared me. Also, by the way, Tigers smell bad! ) I loved to fly airplanes. I was a private pilot and spent most of my flight hours in a four passenger Cessna Skyhawk. I loved it. My wife was a bit of a daredevil two. She took flying lessons with me. Unfortunately, my kids weren’t quite so adventuresome. They refuse to get in a private plane with me! Well, my son doesn’t even want to get into a commercial airliner. There wasn’t much that I wouldn’t try at least once.
With that type of personal history, more than a few people wondered why I seemed so euphoric in the hospital. My condition certainly precluded a lot of activities that I used to enjoy.
I spent more than a month in the hospital and in the rehabilitation ward, recovering from my stroke. One thing that amazed many people, including my family, including me…was my unusually good mood. Here I was – no income, in the hospital, paralyzed on the right side and unable to walk or use my right arm or hand. You would think that would be a very depressing thing. But I wasn’t depressed at all. My kids and my mother, at the time, attributed it to some really good rugs they must have been giving me. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that I was now taking the same drugs that I was taking in the hospital. There were no magic mushrooms to perk up my mood. Just stuff to keep the blood pressure down, fight off blood clots and keep the gout under control. That’s it.
What accounted for my unusual attitude in the hospital? If you couldn’t walk or use your right arm, scooting around in a wheelchair, and were now dependent upon the people around you when you were fiercely independent before – that would seem like a prescription for depression.
After talking with my stroke doctor, Dr. Hayes, I figured it out. I had lived a high-pressure lifestyle. The highs were enormously high. The lows were cavernously low. Very little time was spent in the middle ground. Although I love my kids and my kids love me, my romantic relationships managed to alienate them. My relationships were volatile. I was an all or nothing person.
The euphoria that I experienced after my stroke wasn’t due to drugs and wasn’t experiential. It was because, for the first time in my life, I really treasured those simple things in life that we take for granted in our daily lives, that we forget about when we are busy – family and friends. Disabled as I was, the workforce would have to wait. My kids, my mother, a few of my close friends were the most important things in my life. Their presence, their happiness and their companionship was what made me happy.
While I was sick I lost my house and most of my personal possessions! I only had a couple of van loads of stuff left. It was a very buddhist-like existence, forsaking the things of this temporal world. But I had family and friends. My partner Adam had been my friend for more than 20 years and he stood by me. My friend Arnie, ditto.
As my recovery progressed, I found a few more of those old friends. Bill, Tara, Andrew and Sheila, Jonathan, Mimi, Charlotta, Adam2 and Zannell, Frank, Manny, and more than I can even remember have stayed in touch and supported me throughout my ongoing recovery. That’s worth more than cash -- well, it’s worth more than cash as long as you can still afford to eat.
Good Drugs Dude!
Once you have an ischemic stroke, a stroke caused by a blood clot, you spend the rest of your life on drugs. Here is the cocktail they had me on in the beginning, and modified today.
In my particular case, I have long had a history of gout, or the build up of uric acid crystals in the body originally, this condition caused the joints in my lower extremity, hips, knees and feet to swell and become painful as the uric acid crystals build up in the joints. There are two types of gout. Overproduction of uric acid and the inability to eliminate uric acid. In my case, it was not the body's ability to eliminate uric acid, but rather the overproduction of uric acid which caused the problems. I was prescribed allopurinol to reduce my body's production of uric acid.
Prior to my stroke, Gout had become a bigger problem. Instead of just accumulating in my joints, were eliminated, the uric acid started building up in my kidney. The resul was kidney stones. Most people get kidney stones as a result of a buildup of calcium in the kidneys, and various medical procedures including lithotripsy are required. With gout however the production of uric acid can result in uric acid kidney stones rather than calcium kidney stones. However, the symptoms are the same.
Post stroke, I was affected by kidney stones. However, the pain associated with the kidney stones did not occur as the nervous system was deadened on the right side of my body. Eventually I discovered the problem and went to a doctor who wanted to perform lithotripsy. After talking to many people who lithotripsy done, and upon finding out that it was indicated only for calcium kidney stones, I opted for the process of patiently waiting for them to dissolve. However, the doctor who was treating me for kidney stones also prescribed allopurinol, since I hadn't taken it for years. He also prescribed potassium citrate, which is often given in conjunction with allopurinol.
There's just one problem! Potassium citrate adversely interact with virtually every other drug that I was prescribed. I'm still not quite sure why, given a list of the drugs I was currently taking, the doctor didn't notice that. I'm even more distressed that the pharmacy which runs a drug interaction program didn't bother to tell me either! My normal blood pressure is around 120 to 140 over 70 to 80. On two separate occasions my blood pressure dropped to 60/40. That's nearly dead! It took two trips to the emergency room before the emergency room attendants discovered that the potassium citrate was interacting with the other drugs, all the other drugs, but I was taking.
Frankly, I'm lucky to be alive. People have died from such drug interactions.
The Exploding Pill: a bit of humor.
As I mentioned, I have had a condition known as gout, for years. I was first diagnosed when I was about 17 years old by a doctor who was also a family friend. Prior to that, I have complained of pain in my knee for about two years and had the diagnosed with all kinds of strange ailments. None of them actually turned out to be true. . However, my mother sent me off to her friend. Knowing my history, he smiled the minute I walked in. You have gout! That's what he told. He didn't even ask me any questions or look at my knee. My mom had filled him in on the symptoms. Of course, he had to do some blood tests to verify. He was right.
That was back in the 1970s. The treatment of choice for gout, at the time, was a pill called Colchicine. I took it every day. However, I was warned, take it with food. Well, I was late for work. I popped the Colchicine, hopped in the car and started to drive to work. Suddenly, I had indigestion. It wasn't bad, just a little uncomfortable. Then I burped! Blue smoke came billowing out of my mouth accompanied by a horrible aftertaste! I had no idea what was, but the discomfort when away, and I didn't think about it for a while.
A couple of weeks later, I was relating the story to a coworker. I hadn't figured it out, but driving to work I mysteriously belched blue smoke! I cited the smoke and the foul taste. And she immediately started laughing. I agree, it was funny. But not that funny. Then she told me that she had a similar experience. She asked me if I had gout. I said yes, of course. Then she asked me if I was taking Colchicine. Yes, I answered unexpectedly. As she advised me that she also had gout, that she had been prescribed Colchicin, that they told her to take it on a full stomach -- and she didn't. The consequence was that pill blew up in her stomach causing her to belch blue smoke, have a lousy taste in her mouth, and, since she was obviously smarter than me, call a doctor! He told her what happened, said she was lucky, and told her not to take the damn bill on empty stomach.
Add section about strokes and depression.
Note: as write about cycle -- originally had ADD, very fast cycle. And the TIAs and stroke recovery progressed, cycles lengthened. Discuss amplitude pre-and post-stroke.
With that type of personal history, more than a few people wondered why I seemed so euphoric in the hospital. My condition certainly precluded a lot of activities that I used to enjoy.
I spent more than a month in the hospital and in the rehabilitation ward, recovering from my stroke. One thing that amazed many people, including my family, including me…was my unusually good mood. Here I was – no income, in the hospital, paralyzed on the right side and unable to walk or use my right arm or hand. You would think that would be a very depressing thing. But I wasn’t depressed at all. My kids and my mother, at the time, attributed it to some really good rugs they must have been giving me. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that I was now taking the same drugs that I was taking in the hospital. There were no magic mushrooms to perk up my mood. Just stuff to keep the blood pressure down, fight off blood clots and keep the gout under control. That’s it.
What accounted for my unusual attitude in the hospital? If you couldn’t walk or use your right arm, scooting around in a wheelchair, and were now dependent upon the people around you when you were fiercely independent before – that would seem like a prescription for depression.
After talking with my stroke doctor, Dr. Hayes, I figured it out. I had lived a high-pressure lifestyle. The highs were enormously high. The lows were cavernously low. Very little time was spent in the middle ground. Although I love my kids and my kids love me, my romantic relationships managed to alienate them. My relationships were volatile. I was an all or nothing person.
The euphoria that I experienced after my stroke wasn’t due to drugs and wasn’t experiential. It was because, for the first time in my life, I really treasured those simple things in life that we take for granted in our daily lives, that we forget about when we are busy – family and friends. Disabled as I was, the workforce would have to wait. My kids, my mother, a few of my close friends were the most important things in my life. Their presence, their happiness and their companionship was what made me happy.
While I was sick I lost my house and most of my personal possessions! I only had a couple of van loads of stuff left. It was a very buddhist-like existence, forsaking the things of this temporal world. But I had family and friends. My partner Adam had been my friend for more than 20 years and he stood by me. My friend Arnie, ditto.
As my recovery progressed, I found a few more of those old friends. Bill, Tara, Andrew and Sheila, Jonathan, Mimi, Charlotta, Adam2 and Zannell, Frank, Manny, and more than I can even remember have stayed in touch and supported me throughout my ongoing recovery. That’s worth more than cash -- well, it’s worth more than cash as long as you can still afford to eat.
Good Drugs Dude!
Once you have an ischemic stroke, a stroke caused by a blood clot, you spend the rest of your life on drugs. Here is the cocktail they had me on in the beginning, and modified today.
- Plavix is the first drug introduced. Plavix has largely replaced the previous clot reducer, heprin, which had far more side effects. Plavix reduces the chance of having a second incident.
- Metforemin is a drug that replaces the need for insulin in type II diabetics. Diabetes is common in stroke victims as the damage to the brain frequently reduces the body's ability to regulate its own insulin production.
- Lipitor, known technically as atorvastatin, reduces the amount of bad cholesterol, known as low-density lipoprotein, LDL, while at the same time, usually increasing the amount of good cholesterol, high-density lipoprotein, a or HDL. The build up of LDL in the blood stream often contributes stroke.
- Lisinopril is in a group of drugs called ACE inhibitors. ACE stands for angiotensin converting enzyme. Lisinopril is used to treat high blood pressure (hypertension), congestive heart failure, and to improve survival after a stroke.
- Vesicare, in my case, was prescribed but eventually eliminated. One of the side effects of stroke and paralysis of one side of the body is often incontinence (unpredictable urination). However, as my condition continued to improve, this drug was eliminated.
In my particular case, I have long had a history of gout, or the build up of uric acid crystals in the body originally, this condition caused the joints in my lower extremity, hips, knees and feet to swell and become painful as the uric acid crystals build up in the joints. There are two types of gout. Overproduction of uric acid and the inability to eliminate uric acid. In my case, it was not the body's ability to eliminate uric acid, but rather the overproduction of uric acid which caused the problems. I was prescribed allopurinol to reduce my body's production of uric acid.
Prior to my stroke, Gout had become a bigger problem. Instead of just accumulating in my joints, were eliminated, the uric acid started building up in my kidney. The resul was kidney stones. Most people get kidney stones as a result of a buildup of calcium in the kidneys, and various medical procedures including lithotripsy are required. With gout however the production of uric acid can result in uric acid kidney stones rather than calcium kidney stones. However, the symptoms are the same.
Post stroke, I was affected by kidney stones. However, the pain associated with the kidney stones did not occur as the nervous system was deadened on the right side of my body. Eventually I discovered the problem and went to a doctor who wanted to perform lithotripsy. After talking to many people who lithotripsy done, and upon finding out that it was indicated only for calcium kidney stones, I opted for the process of patiently waiting for them to dissolve. However, the doctor who was treating me for kidney stones also prescribed allopurinol, since I hadn't taken it for years. He also prescribed potassium citrate, which is often given in conjunction with allopurinol.
There's just one problem! Potassium citrate adversely interact with virtually every other drug that I was prescribed. I'm still not quite sure why, given a list of the drugs I was currently taking, the doctor didn't notice that. I'm even more distressed that the pharmacy which runs a drug interaction program didn't bother to tell me either! My normal blood pressure is around 120 to 140 over 70 to 80. On two separate occasions my blood pressure dropped to 60/40. That's nearly dead! It took two trips to the emergency room before the emergency room attendants discovered that the potassium citrate was interacting with the other drugs, all the other drugs, but I was taking.
Frankly, I'm lucky to be alive. People have died from such drug interactions.
The Exploding Pill: a bit of humor.
As I mentioned, I have had a condition known as gout, for years. I was first diagnosed when I was about 17 years old by a doctor who was also a family friend. Prior to that, I have complained of pain in my knee for about two years and had the diagnosed with all kinds of strange ailments. None of them actually turned out to be true. . However, my mother sent me off to her friend. Knowing my history, he smiled the minute I walked in. You have gout! That's what he told. He didn't even ask me any questions or look at my knee. My mom had filled him in on the symptoms. Of course, he had to do some blood tests to verify. He was right.
That was back in the 1970s. The treatment of choice for gout, at the time, was a pill called Colchicine. I took it every day. However, I was warned, take it with food. Well, I was late for work. I popped the Colchicine, hopped in the car and started to drive to work. Suddenly, I had indigestion. It wasn't bad, just a little uncomfortable. Then I burped! Blue smoke came billowing out of my mouth accompanied by a horrible aftertaste! I had no idea what was, but the discomfort when away, and I didn't think about it for a while.
A couple of weeks later, I was relating the story to a coworker. I hadn't figured it out, but driving to work I mysteriously belched blue smoke! I cited the smoke and the foul taste. And she immediately started laughing. I agree, it was funny. But not that funny. Then she told me that she had a similar experience. She asked me if I had gout. I said yes, of course. Then she asked me if I was taking Colchicine. Yes, I answered unexpectedly. As she advised me that she also had gout, that she had been prescribed Colchicin, that they told her to take it on a full stomach -- and she didn't. The consequence was that pill blew up in her stomach causing her to belch blue smoke, have a lousy taste in her mouth, and, since she was obviously smarter than me, call a doctor! He told her what happened, said she was lucky, and told her not to take the damn bill on empty stomach.
Add section about strokes and depression.
Note: as write about cycle -- originally had ADD, very fast cycle. And the TIAs and stroke recovery progressed, cycles lengthened. Discuss amplitude pre-and post-stroke.
Memory. (0030)
.
Memory is a funny, tricky thing. When you lose your memory, you don't necessarily know that you forgot something! Sometimes you do. For example, when I woke up in the emergency room, I couldn't remember names. I couldn't remember my wife's name. (That, of course, bothered her to no end.) But, I couldn't remember the names of my children, my pets, my best friend, my business partner. That type of hole in your memory is pretty obvious. Some of it is far more subtle.
To forget a place you visited, a party you attended, something you learned in school, something that is not a part of ordinary, daily life, can be an insidious handicap. You just don't know what you don't remember. Perhaps, in a way, it is a blessing to have no knowledge of how much of your life you have lost.
However, in time, in my days in rehabilitation, a funny thing would happen. A site, a sound, a smell would bridge the connection to some lost memories. Memories would come flooding back to me in a deluge. It was almost paralyzed. The memories would return and an overwhelming tsunami of brain activity. Sometimes this paralysis would last just a couple of seconds while the memories flooded back. Sometimes, it would last for five or 10 minutes. I wonder how much of my original disability was the result of this internal brain rewiring.
(note: expand upon this section -- change from personal observation to medical call)
What became obvious was that nothing would replace the information that was stored in the brain cells that were killed by the lack of oxygen caused by the blood clot during the stroke. However, some memories were not irretrievably lost! Memory is, as it turns out, like islands in a giant ocean. Each memory is like its own little island connected to other memories and to our conscious mind by bridges. Some of these bridges are fragile, tenuous, one person in a time footbridges while others are like the massive Golden Gate Bridge, moving volumes of traffic. Memories are connected to the conscious mind and to other memories by these bridges. Take out a bridge and you may lose access to the memory. It's still layer, recorded indelibly in your brain cells, with no way to access it.
What became obvious after a time was that many of the bridges, especially the main, high-traffic bridges to my memories passed through a portion of my brain ruined by the stroke. I suppose, some of those memories are you retrieve the loss. However, many of the memories were connected by secondary and tertiary bridges. Some of these bridges, undoubtedly, where smaller bridges connected right to the thinking mind. However, many of these alternative bridges were connections to other memories. Many of my, apparently lost memory, were not truly lost; not truly wiped out by the stroke. Much of my memory merely lost the major, high-traffic bridge to conscious memory.
Memory is a funny, tricky thing. When you lose your memory, you don't necessarily know that you forgot something! Sometimes you do. For example, when I woke up in the emergency room, I couldn't remember names. I couldn't remember my wife's name. (That, of course, bothered her to no end.) But, I couldn't remember the names of my children, my pets, my best friend, my business partner. That type of hole in your memory is pretty obvious. Some of it is far more subtle.
To forget a place you visited, a party you attended, something you learned in school, something that is not a part of ordinary, daily life, can be an insidious handicap. You just don't know what you don't remember. Perhaps, in a way, it is a blessing to have no knowledge of how much of your life you have lost.
However, in time, in my days in rehabilitation, a funny thing would happen. A site, a sound, a smell would bridge the connection to some lost memories. Memories would come flooding back to me in a deluge. It was almost paralyzed. The memories would return and an overwhelming tsunami of brain activity. Sometimes this paralysis would last just a couple of seconds while the memories flooded back. Sometimes, it would last for five or 10 minutes. I wonder how much of my original disability was the result of this internal brain rewiring.
(note: expand upon this section -- change from personal observation to medical call)
What became obvious was that nothing would replace the information that was stored in the brain cells that were killed by the lack of oxygen caused by the blood clot during the stroke. However, some memories were not irretrievably lost! Memory is, as it turns out, like islands in a giant ocean. Each memory is like its own little island connected to other memories and to our conscious mind by bridges. Some of these bridges are fragile, tenuous, one person in a time footbridges while others are like the massive Golden Gate Bridge, moving volumes of traffic. Memories are connected to the conscious mind and to other memories by these bridges. Take out a bridge and you may lose access to the memory. It's still layer, recorded indelibly in your brain cells, with no way to access it.
What became obvious after a time was that many of the bridges, especially the main, high-traffic bridges to my memories passed through a portion of my brain ruined by the stroke. I suppose, some of those memories are you retrieve the loss. However, many of the memories were connected by secondary and tertiary bridges. Some of these bridges, undoubtedly, where smaller bridges connected right to the thinking mind. However, many of these alternative bridges were connections to other memories. Many of my, apparently lost memory, were not truly lost; not truly wiped out by the stroke. Much of my memory merely lost the major, high-traffic bridge to conscious memory.
An example:
This happened fairly recently. In college, some 30 odd years ago, I studied hypnosis, autosuggestion, self hypnosis and related fields. I became quite adept at hypnosis and post hypnotic suggestion. However, those memories were gone. They were not part of my conscious mind, my conscious memory. Then one day, my daughter's boyfriend was complaining of a toothache. It was really bothering him. He was putting a topical analgesic on the tooth to alleviate the pain. Something in that conversation with him connected to my memories of hypnosis by a little footbridge. The minute he said that, the minute it registered in my brain, the entire archive of memory regarding my college and post-collegiate experience with hypnosis came flooding back. Now, writing about it, I am sure that there is a construction project underway in my brain to convert that byway, memory to memory only, footbridge into a more direct bridge to my conscious mind.
The DEW Line & the Brain (0020)
,
Back in the bad, old, cold war days we were afraid the nasty Soviet Communists were going to lob nuclear missiles at us and turned our cities into so much ash. In schools, we used to have air raid drills where we get down and crawl under our desks with our hands over our heads. I'm not sure what good that would do when the nuclear detonation was going to fry you anyway. But, to avoid the risk that the evil empire would blow us to smithereens, the US set up the Distant Early Warning Line (or DEW Line for short), a string of radars located in the middle of the country from the Canadian border to Mexico. They would warn us well in advance of an attack so that we could lob our missiles. Boy, that made me feel much safer!
The human body has its own version of the DEW Line. It's called the transient ischemic accident (or attack), also known as the TIA for short. The TIA is, in fact, a mini stroke. However, unlike a full-blown stroke, called a cerebral vascular accident or CVA, the TIA may cause a temporary problem and lasts anywhere from several seconds to several minutes to several hours. The TIA can have a variety of stroke like symptoms. But they can also be very subtle.
In my case, they were very subtle. In fact, they were so subtle and inoffensive, I didn't realize that they were even a problem! In the beginning, I actually thought they were normal! It never even occurred to me to ask anyone else if they had them. I mean, do you ask your friend if he breathes? Isn't that kind of obvious? I actually started having TIAs back in 1998! That was a full 10 years before my stroke in 2008.
Had I known better, if I had recognized the TIA symptoms, I could have avoided the stroke 10 years earlier. Likewise, if I had recognized that my disrupted vision on the right side was a stroke symptom, and not a result of old contact lenses, the major brain damage I suffered, the vision loss, the paralysis, the problems reading and recognizing written words could have all been avoided.
Back in the bad, old, cold war days we were afraid the nasty Soviet Communists were going to lob nuclear missiles at us and turned our cities into so much ash. In schools, we used to have air raid drills where we get down and crawl under our desks with our hands over our heads. I'm not sure what good that would do when the nuclear detonation was going to fry you anyway. But, to avoid the risk that the evil empire would blow us to smithereens, the US set up the Distant Early Warning Line (or DEW Line for short), a string of radars located in the middle of the country from the Canadian border to Mexico. They would warn us well in advance of an attack so that we could lob our missiles. Boy, that made me feel much safer!
The human body has its own version of the DEW Line. It's called the transient ischemic accident (or attack), also known as the TIA for short. The TIA is, in fact, a mini stroke. However, unlike a full-blown stroke, called a cerebral vascular accident or CVA, the TIA may cause a temporary problem and lasts anywhere from several seconds to several minutes to several hours. The TIA can have a variety of stroke like symptoms. But they can also be very subtle.
In my case, they were very subtle. In fact, they were so subtle and inoffensive, I didn't realize that they were even a problem! In the beginning, I actually thought they were normal! It never even occurred to me to ask anyone else if they had them. I mean, do you ask your friend if he breathes? Isn't that kind of obvious? I actually started having TIAs back in 1998! That was a full 10 years before my stroke in 2008.
Had I known better, if I had recognized the TIA symptoms, I could have avoided the stroke 10 years earlier. Likewise, if I had recognized that my disrupted vision on the right side was a stroke symptom, and not a result of old contact lenses, the major brain damage I suffered, the vision loss, the paralysis, the problems reading and recognizing written words could have all been avoided.
Does God Play Dice? (0010)
.
Occasionally, I am prone to waxing philosophical. When the mood strikes me, I wonder about the meaning of life, why we're here, what we're supposed to be doing, what's for dinner, and the fact that I have to replace my flat spare tire. Okay, not all the thoughts are about big ideas, nobody's perfect. But, I will share some of my more philosophical thought with you.
Albert Einstein once asked if we believed that God played dice. Does God Have A Sense of Humor? Or, is God a practical joker?
First and foremost, I wonder if there is a God. Is there some benevolent creature with a white flowing beard sitting up in heaven watching us like so many guppies in a fishbowl, going about our daily routines, busily oblivious to the universe outside that fishbowl. Do we exist merely for God's amusement?
Perhaps watching us is the celestial equivalent of watching soap operas on television.
Or, is God a sadistic SOB? Does he set up there in heaven watching a stub our toes and skin our knees, while some of us, through sheer dumb luck, become billionaires, find the love of our life, have beautiful, brilliant children and live happily ever after?
Is it a game? Winner take all and get into heaven. But then, who's the winner? Is it the person who dies with the most toys. Or is it the person who suffers, in this life, the most. Though suffering and self-flagellation really get you into heaven? Personally, I doubt it. As the 1980s rock band, Blood Sweat and Tears, once said, "I swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell." I'm not saying that's how I actually feel. So don't get angry with me now. It's just one possible point of view. It's worth examining.
By the way, where is heaven? What are the celestial coordinates?
Is God real, a figment of our imagination , or a self delusional joke? Is the whole universe a random burp that flashed into existence out of absolute nothingness? Did you ever think about absolute nothingness? It's hard. There is no time or space, no existence. It's a difficult concept to get your brain around.
Did all this always exist? Do you buy into the concept of the eternal Big Bang? Can you even get your brain around the concept of eternity or infinity? Does the universe cycle through being smaller than a pinpoint and hotter than hell, exploding, cooling, congealing, and eventually dying out in freezing only to be sucked back together again by gravity into that tiny dot of hot, massively dense stuff scientists call plasma.
I have to talk about one more thing. Science tells us that our world, our universe, follows the law of entropy. The law of entropy tells us that the universe and the world in which we live go from a state of high order and organization, and increasingly becomes more disorganized over time. Entropy tells us that the world around us decays over time. For example, this certainly explains why our shiny new car eventually, over time, becomes a decrepit, broken down wreck. It
tells us why we, as humans, become old, feeble, and eventually pass away. It tells us why the pyramids of ancient Egypt are starting to crumble and why the sphynx lost his nose over the ages.
However, it doesn't account for the genesis of a new baby, a new life, which flourishes and grows to middle-age before it declines. It doesn't tell us how we can mine iron ore, create steel, and form that steel into a car to begin with. Birth, metal refining, building and construction, the creation of the world around us, are all processes which are counter to entropy.
What are we missing here?
Okay, enough waxing philosophical. What I'm really trying to figure out is why there are billionaires and paupers. Why do some live to a ripe old age and others go to their eternal sleep as innocent children? Bottom line: Is there a reason that I am here? Is there a reason my life has taken the bizarre, twisting, life-changing turn that it has? Am I starting a new chapter in my story? I think there is some relevance to that notion. After all, despite events, I'm not dead! And, very easily could have been. In fact, I very nearly was.
You see, on September 14, 2008 I had a stroke, a blood clot in my brain. During my rehabilitation and my months in the hospital I lost everything. Before the stroke, I was a successful, upper middle-class entrepreneur. I started a business with a partner. When I had my stroke, George Bush was still President. The economy was still chugging along. The business my partner and I had started was still keeping me fed.
But on that day, for me, the world changed. I went from normal, middle-class active guy to a near vegetable in a matter of hours. I nearly died. In fact, they told my kids to come and visit because I might not make it.
Well, despite the odds, despite the massive trauma to my brain, I'm still here! And, I am no longer confined to a wheelchair with my right side paralyzed and useless. Oh, sure, there are some lasting physical side effects. I haven't been able to work in nearly 2 years. But I'm here, I'm alive, and I have a new found mission. And that, my friends, is the story of this book.
This would normally be an ordinary story of an ordinary man with an ordinary wife and three ordinary children. Ordinary, some would even say boring. It started out that way. But it changed. It changed in a very dramatic way. But it didn't happen overnight. In fact, in retrospect, it started several years before, in 1999, and nobody understood, least of all me. In my wildest imagination, I wouldn't have guessed what was happening inside my brain.
What's very disturbing is that this could happen to anybody, anyplace, anytime. If so, this is my story; but it is also a story of thousands of other people, and a lesson to you and those you love
about things you should look for. It is the story of a stroke, or “a heart attack in the brain” as it is often called. It is my story about the fragility of our lives. It is about understanding what is important to us. It is about the choices in our lives.
I always thought strokes for something that happened to the elderly. Although, in retrospect, my friend, Bob's, mother died of a massive stroke in her late 50s. I should've known better. When I was in the rehabilitation ward, I met a young lady, 25 years old. This was her fourth stroke! I was inspired by another woman who returned to the ward to visit her therapists. She was in her 40s. She, like me, had been partially paralyzed and confined to a wheel chair. Now, she was up, walking, and talking. I thought at the time, maybe, just maybe, that could be me someday. Then of course, there were the classical elderly people who suffered brain trauma. But I never, neve imagine that the stroke ward would contain so many patients my age or younger.
xxxxxxx
It was a Sunday like any other. I was, in retrospect, a creature of habit -- on the way to my mother’s house to do some chores and to take her for lunch just like I did almost every Sunday. As always, I made a couple phone calls on the 30 minute drive there I had to make a couple of more on the 30 minute ride home. The only thing different about today was that my contact lenses were bothering me, or so I thought. I just made a mental note to call the eye doctor on Monday and have it checked out. It wasn't a big thing. I didn't even mention it to my mother or in my various phone conversations.
Mom and I chit chatted for a bit. She told me about the latest book she was reading (mom is a voracious reader). We decided to go off to lunch. It was the usual, One of the three or four restaurants in my mother's neighborhood. We talked about work and neighbors. The usual stuff.
I bought her lunch and we headed back to her house. It was a nice place. A two-bedroom condo that she and my dad remodel before he passed. There were always a couple of chores to do on the weekend. I did my chores, gave mom a kiss, and headed back home.
Again, other than the contact bothering me, there wasn't any real problem! The only symptom of the time was the blurry, blacked out vision to my right. So home I went, making my usual calls.
I arrived at home. I was going to do a half an hour's worth of work or so. I was a partner in a small business, there was nothing resembling a real day off.
I looked at the computer screen and remember being frustrated, perplexed. I could see the characters on the screen. But they were just that, letters and numbers. They steadfastly refused to resolve into words. It didn't matter how much I stared. It didn't matter how much I concentrated. But it certainly was frustrating. Instead of words, the letters and numbers just made pretty little pictures on the computer screen. I walked downstairs and into the living room I knew something was wrong, but I didn't think it was serious perhaps I was tired. Perhaps I needed new contact lenses. Perhaps I needed new glasses.
I wandered downstairs to tell my wife, Tara. We were supposed to watch some television together after I finished my half hour or so of work. When I got there, I started to tell her about the problem with my eyes. I was probably just tired. Tara seemed visibly upset. She told me to lie down on the couch. But, I didn't want to lie down on the couch! I wanted to talk to her. Again, she insisted that I lie down. I couldn't figure out why, but clearly she was overreacting to something! So I laid down. Well, I lay down for a minute or so. Then I set up. I was really aggravated. She wasn't sticking around to listen to me! The next thing I know, she had called an ambulance. Great. Just what I needed. But I went along with again. They asked me questions, poked and prodded, and bundled me onto a gurney. I wasn't quite sure why. Well, it wasn't the first time I've been to hospital!
I vaguely remember expecting to be home fairly soon. I think Tara said she was going to call the kids. But since I expected to be home soon, I told her not to tell them I was going off in the ambulance. I didn't want them to worry. So, taking me at my word, Tara kept my trip to the hospital quiet.
I clearly remember the arrival of the ambulance, the poking and prodding of the attendance, and the fairly chatty ride to the hospital. I even remember being wheeled in to the emergency room. At that point, other than my vision, everything seemed to still or your, at least it seems so to me. In retrospect, that was probably not correct. There must have been some outward signs of which I was then, as now, unaware. That is the last thing I remember as the world went blank.
I woke up.
It was as ifI had stepped into a parallel universe. It was like a science fiction novel, one of those about alternate reality. The scenery looked familiar. The sounds were recognizable. But something was off. Something was wrong. Before I fell asleep, my right side worked! Now it didn't. No matter how much I tried to will it, the arm would not lift, the fingers would not curl, the leg would not move.
“My God,” I remember thinking, ”I soiled myself!” I couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom. Something was definitely, definitely wrong.
There are two things no commander—and no human being—can ever control ... You cannot control the decisions of others, and you cannot control the actions of God. An intelligent officer will try to anticipate both of those things and allow for them, but a wise officer will not blame himself when God comes along and screws up a perfectly good plan with no warning at all ... it's that God has a very peculiar sense of humor . . . and an even more peculiar sense of timing.
-- David Weber, Echoes of Honor
Occasionally, I am prone to waxing philosophical. When the mood strikes me, I wonder about the meaning of life, why we're here, what we're supposed to be doing, what's for dinner, and the fact that I have to replace my flat spare tire. Okay, not all the thoughts are about big ideas, nobody's perfect. But, I will share some of my more philosophical thought with you.
Albert Einstein once asked if we believed that God played dice. Does God Have A Sense of Humor? Or, is God a practical joker?
First and foremost, I wonder if there is a God. Is there some benevolent creature with a white flowing beard sitting up in heaven watching us like so many guppies in a fishbowl, going about our daily routines, busily oblivious to the universe outside that fishbowl. Do we exist merely for God's amusement?
Perhaps watching us is the celestial equivalent of watching soap operas on television.
Or, is God a sadistic SOB? Does he set up there in heaven watching a stub our toes and skin our knees, while some of us, through sheer dumb luck, become billionaires, find the love of our life, have beautiful, brilliant children and live happily ever after?
Is it a game? Winner take all and get into heaven. But then, who's the winner? Is it the person who dies with the most toys. Or is it the person who suffers, in this life, the most. Though suffering and self-flagellation really get you into heaven? Personally, I doubt it. As the 1980s rock band, Blood Sweat and Tears, once said, "I swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell." I'm not saying that's how I actually feel. So don't get angry with me now. It's just one possible point of view. It's worth examining.
By the way, where is heaven? What are the celestial coordinates?
Is God real, a figment of our imagination , or a self delusional joke? Is the whole universe a random burp that flashed into existence out of absolute nothingness? Did you ever think about absolute nothingness? It's hard. There is no time or space, no existence. It's a difficult concept to get your brain around.
Did all this always exist? Do you buy into the concept of the eternal Big Bang? Can you even get your brain around the concept of eternity or infinity? Does the universe cycle through being smaller than a pinpoint and hotter than hell, exploding, cooling, congealing, and eventually dying out in freezing only to be sucked back together again by gravity into that tiny dot of hot, massively dense stuff scientists call plasma.
I have to talk about one more thing. Science tells us that our world, our universe, follows the law of entropy. The law of entropy tells us that the universe and the world in which we live go from a state of high order and organization, and increasingly becomes more disorganized over time. Entropy tells us that the world around us decays over time. For example, this certainly explains why our shiny new car eventually, over time, becomes a decrepit, broken down wreck. It
tells us why we, as humans, become old, feeble, and eventually pass away. It tells us why the pyramids of ancient Egypt are starting to crumble and why the sphynx lost his nose over the ages.
However, it doesn't account for the genesis of a new baby, a new life, which flourishes and grows to middle-age before it declines. It doesn't tell us how we can mine iron ore, create steel, and form that steel into a car to begin with. Birth, metal refining, building and construction, the creation of the world around us, are all processes which are counter to entropy.
What are we missing here?
Okay, enough waxing philosophical. What I'm really trying to figure out is why there are billionaires and paupers. Why do some live to a ripe old age and others go to their eternal sleep as innocent children? Bottom line: Is there a reason that I am here? Is there a reason my life has taken the bizarre, twisting, life-changing turn that it has? Am I starting a new chapter in my story? I think there is some relevance to that notion. After all, despite events, I'm not dead! And, very easily could have been. In fact, I very nearly was.
You see, on September 14, 2008 I had a stroke, a blood clot in my brain. During my rehabilitation and my months in the hospital I lost everything. Before the stroke, I was a successful, upper middle-class entrepreneur. I started a business with a partner. When I had my stroke, George Bush was still President. The economy was still chugging along. The business my partner and I had started was still keeping me fed.
But on that day, for me, the world changed. I went from normal, middle-class active guy to a near vegetable in a matter of hours. I nearly died. In fact, they told my kids to come and visit because I might not make it.
Well, despite the odds, despite the massive trauma to my brain, I'm still here! And, I am no longer confined to a wheelchair with my right side paralyzed and useless. Oh, sure, there are some lasting physical side effects. I haven't been able to work in nearly 2 years. But I'm here, I'm alive, and I have a new found mission. And that, my friends, is the story of this book.
...
It was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any minute. And it was not without warning. The first sign, the first tics of the bomb, the first symptoms actually started in 1999, and I had no idea what was happening. But the signs were there. The changes were there. Slowly, it started to make subtle changes in my personality. It made subtle changes in the way I thought. But then, in a crescendo, what was happening to me became evident on September 14, 2008. I guess you could say that that was the end of my life as I knew it. However, it was also a beginning; A beginning of a new phase, new chapter to be experienced and explore.
…
This would normally be an ordinary story of an ordinary man with an ordinary wife and three ordinary children. Ordinary, some would even say boring. It started out that way. But it changed. It changed in a very dramatic way. But it didn't happen overnight. In fact, in retrospect, it started several years before, in 1999, and nobody understood, least of all me. In my wildest imagination, I wouldn't have guessed what was happening inside my brain.
What's very disturbing is that this could happen to anybody, anyplace, anytime. If so, this is my story; but it is also a story of thousands of other people, and a lesson to you and those you love
about things you should look for. It is the story of a stroke, or “a heart attack in the brain” as it is often called. It is my story about the fragility of our lives. It is about understanding what is important to us. It is about the choices in our lives.
I always thought strokes for something that happened to the elderly. Although, in retrospect, my friend, Bob's, mother died of a massive stroke in her late 50s. I should've known better. When I was in the rehabilitation ward, I met a young lady, 25 years old. This was her fourth stroke! I was inspired by another woman who returned to the ward to visit her therapists. She was in her 40s. She, like me, had been partially paralyzed and confined to a wheel chair. Now, she was up, walking, and talking. I thought at the time, maybe, just maybe, that could be me someday. Then of course, there were the classical elderly people who suffered brain trauma. But I never, neve imagine that the stroke ward would contain so many patients my age or younger.
xxxxxxx
...
It was a Sunday like any other. I was, in retrospect, a creature of habit -- on the way to my mother’s house to do some chores and to take her for lunch just like I did almost every Sunday. As always, I made a couple phone calls on the 30 minute drive there I had to make a couple of more on the 30 minute ride home. The only thing different about today was that my contact lenses were bothering me, or so I thought. I just made a mental note to call the eye doctor on Monday and have it checked out. It wasn't a big thing. I didn't even mention it to my mother or in my various phone conversations.
Mom and I chit chatted for a bit. She told me about the latest book she was reading (mom is a voracious reader). We decided to go off to lunch. It was the usual, One of the three or four restaurants in my mother's neighborhood. We talked about work and neighbors. The usual stuff.
I bought her lunch and we headed back to her house. It was a nice place. A two-bedroom condo that she and my dad remodel before he passed. There were always a couple of chores to do on the weekend. I did my chores, gave mom a kiss, and headed back home.
Again, other than the contact bothering me, there wasn't any real problem! The only symptom of the time was the blurry, blacked out vision to my right. So home I went, making my usual calls.
...
I arrived at home. I was going to do a half an hour's worth of work or so. I was a partner in a small business, there was nothing resembling a real day off.
I looked at the computer screen and remember being frustrated, perplexed. I could see the characters on the screen. But they were just that, letters and numbers. They steadfastly refused to resolve into words. It didn't matter how much I stared. It didn't matter how much I concentrated. But it certainly was frustrating. Instead of words, the letters and numbers just made pretty little pictures on the computer screen. I walked downstairs and into the living room I knew something was wrong, but I didn't think it was serious perhaps I was tired. Perhaps I needed new contact lenses. Perhaps I needed new glasses.
I wandered downstairs to tell my wife, Tara. We were supposed to watch some television together after I finished my half hour or so of work. When I got there, I started to tell her about the problem with my eyes. I was probably just tired. Tara seemed visibly upset. She told me to lie down on the couch. But, I didn't want to lie down on the couch! I wanted to talk to her. Again, she insisted that I lie down. I couldn't figure out why, but clearly she was overreacting to something! So I laid down. Well, I lay down for a minute or so. Then I set up. I was really aggravated. She wasn't sticking around to listen to me! The next thing I know, she had called an ambulance. Great. Just what I needed. But I went along with again. They asked me questions, poked and prodded, and bundled me onto a gurney. I wasn't quite sure why. Well, it wasn't the first time I've been to hospital!
I vaguely remember expecting to be home fairly soon. I think Tara said she was going to call the kids. But since I expected to be home soon, I told her not to tell them I was going off in the ambulance. I didn't want them to worry. So, taking me at my word, Tara kept my trip to the hospital quiet.
…
I clearly remember the arrival of the ambulance, the poking and prodding of the attendance, and the fairly chatty ride to the hospital. I even remember being wheeled in to the emergency room. At that point, other than my vision, everything seemed to still or your, at least it seems so to me. In retrospect, that was probably not correct. There must have been some outward signs of which I was then, as now, unaware. That is the last thing I remember as the world went blank.
I woke up.
It was as ifI had stepped into a parallel universe. It was like a science fiction novel, one of those about alternate reality. The scenery looked familiar. The sounds were recognizable. But something was off. Something was wrong. Before I fell asleep, my right side worked! Now it didn't. No matter how much I tried to will it, the arm would not lift, the fingers would not curl, the leg would not move.
“My God,” I remember thinking, ”I soiled myself!” I couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom. Something was definitely, definitely wrong.
...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Stroke and euphoria: a left brain experience
l
I reported. As part of my stroke. That I experienced a peculiar state of euphoria while I was in the hospital rehabilitation center and upon my return home. I found this to be a unique experience. As it turns out, it isn't! This is an interesting account by a doctor who was a neuroscientist and stroke victim.
I reported. As part of my stroke. That I experienced a peculiar state of euphoria while I was in the hospital rehabilitation center and upon my return home. I found this to be a unique experience. As it turns out, it isn't! This is an interesting account by a doctor who was a neuroscientist and stroke victim.
FREE BOOKS for the reading impaired -- seriously!
.
I have mentioned elsewhere on this blo that one of the side effects of my stroke is that I find it very difficult to read. When I first had my stroke, I could not read it all. I could spell and I could tell you what word was if you spelled it to me, but visually, letters on a screen or page were just pretty pictures.
I have found an amazing service! Do you or someone you know suffer from an affliction that makes it impossible or difficult to read? Second, does that person like science fiction or fantasy? If so, have I got a deal for you!
And bullocks and its sister publishers have a site called http://www.webscription.net/ and have a really cool service for people like us. They give away electronic copies of their books -- all of them -- free! Just go to the homepage and you'll find a link on the left side. Just give them the doctor's name, and you're in!
Happy reading ... And, now that I think of it, happy Halloween!
psssst... read the post after this one too.
I have mentioned elsewhere on this blo that one of the side effects of my stroke is that I find it very difficult to read. When I first had my stroke, I could not read it all. I could spell and I could tell you what word was if you spelled it to me, but visually, letters on a screen or page were just pretty pictures.
I have found an amazing service! Do you or someone you know suffer from an affliction that makes it impossible or difficult to read? Second, does that person like science fiction or fantasy? If so, have I got a deal for you!
And bullocks and its sister publishers have a site called http://www.webscription.net/ and have a really cool service for people like us. They give away electronic copies of their books -- all of them -- free! Just go to the homepage and you'll find a link on the left side. Just give them the doctor's name, and you're in!
Happy reading ... And, now that I think of it, happy Halloween!
Friday, October 29, 2010
An interesting citations
I read this quotation in the book that I was reading yesterday. It really struck me as very true, so I thought I would record it here for posterity.
Note: The elipses (...) indicate superfluous text that I have deleted.
"There are two things no commander—and no human being—can ever control ... You cannot control the decisions of others, and you cannot control the actions of God. An intelligent officer will try to anticipate both of those things and allow for them, but a wise officer will not blame himself when God comes along and screws up a perfectly good plan with no warning at all ... it's that God has a very peculiar sense of humor . . . and an even more peculiar sense of timing."
-- David Weber, Echoes of Honor
Note: The elipses (...) indicate superfluous text that I have deleted.
Preface ... Brain Storm: The Story of A Stroke and Recovery.
Did you ever look outside on a summer evening and watched the awesome display of nature as bolts of lightning arced but crossed the evening sky, incandescently illuminating the surroundings before plunging back into darkness? The display is both terrifying as well as beautiful, inspiring both fear and wonder simultaneously. One wonders how such a tremendous display of nature's power can also wreak such lethal havoc.
It makes you wonder. Is lightening good or bad? Lightning kills people. Lightning burns forests to the ground. However, for every tree in burns to a cinder, it allows the seeds of that tree to reach for the light of the sun, thrive and grow as new life. Lightning is destruction as well as renewal. Good? Bad? Are those concepts relative to the observer?
I was 53. I had a crippling, paralyzing stroke that left me three months in the hospital and years in recovery. In fact, I am recovering still. Quite frankly, it was personally devastating, or so it seemed at the time. However, I have been an analyst for many years. The experience of the stroke and the life changes that ensued, in retrospect, are fascinating.
I read motivational books about the personal epiphanies that stroke victims experience. I have read books about the science and medicine of strokes. However, the stories of personal revelation and the stories of the science and medicine of strokes were never in the same book. It is as if the two were unrelated. But they are not. When looking at the stories of stroke victims, the emotions, thoughts, feelings and mental actions as of stroke victims had as much to do with the speed and success of recovery as the science and medicine. I wanted to write a book, tell a story, report the science in a holistic way since they were inextricably linked to successful recovery.
There are subtle changes in the way the world perceives a stroke victim, and, the way the stroke victim views the world. I really wanted to capture that subtle but interesting dynamic. I also realized that this interplay between the stroke victim and the world can have a profound effect on both the stroke victim’s recovery and the lives and perceptions of those he meets.
I didn’t realize this, but strokes don’t just happen to the elderly. A stroke can happen to anyone. Anybody can have a stroke, any time. However, as devastating as they are, it is possible to view the stroke is a rebirth, a renewal, a way to change directions in your life. Mine was. I didn't know the signs and warnings. This could have been avoided. If only I had known what to look for! I think you should know.
This may sound rather strange, but at this point, I'm not really sure that my stroke was a totally negative experience! In fact, the stroke may have been a blessing in disguise. I would certainly never wish a stroke upon anyone else. However, my pre-stroke life, in retrospect, certainly left much to be desired. There have actually been many positive life changes that have resulted from my two year incapacitation. There is both my positive experience, and, some positive lessons.
I have divided this book into five types of information, in an attempt to achieve something that none of the other books on the subject seem to have accomplished. The existing literature appears to be either a scientific account or a personal story. In this account, I have defined five types of messages are trying:
1. Medical Fact. There is a great deal of information available on strokes and TIAs, or transient ischemic accidents. my objective here is to interlace this clinical information in lay terms, and exemplify the clinical information through personal experience.
2. Personal Account. I want to tell my story. From my understanding, it is not necessarily typical. However, I believe, or at least hope, that you’ll find it interesting and engaging. It also helps to exemplify the clinical facts.
3. Personal Observations. After having experienced a stroke, and talking to many many also have, as well as their family and friends, I think it’s fair to say that I can draw some solution both about the stroke experience and about the way we live our lives -- based on pre-stroke and post-strokeas experiences.
4. Other People’s Perceptions. I have learned much about what other people think of strokes and stroke victims which I will describe here.
5. Conclusions or Questions. No doubt, experiencing a stroke has created certain conditions and left me with certain observations and conclusions which I will share with you. But as often as not, many questions are raised for which I still have no answers and I am still searching for enlightenment.
It makes you wonder. Is lightening good or bad? Lightning kills people. Lightning burns forests to the ground. However, for every tree in burns to a cinder, it allows the seeds of that tree to reach for the light of the sun, thrive and grow as new life. Lightning is destruction as well as renewal. Good? Bad? Are those concepts relative to the observer?
I was 53. I had a crippling, paralyzing stroke that left me three months in the hospital and years in recovery. In fact, I am recovering still. Quite frankly, it was personally devastating, or so it seemed at the time. However, I have been an analyst for many years. The experience of the stroke and the life changes that ensued, in retrospect, are fascinating.
I read motivational books about the personal epiphanies that stroke victims experience. I have read books about the science and medicine of strokes. However, the stories of personal revelation and the stories of the science and medicine of strokes were never in the same book. It is as if the two were unrelated. But they are not. When looking at the stories of stroke victims, the emotions, thoughts, feelings and mental actions as of stroke victims had as much to do with the speed and success of recovery as the science and medicine. I wanted to write a book, tell a story, report the science in a holistic way since they were inextricably linked to successful recovery.
There are subtle changes in the way the world perceives a stroke victim, and, the way the stroke victim views the world. I really wanted to capture that subtle but interesting dynamic. I also realized that this interplay between the stroke victim and the world can have a profound effect on both the stroke victim’s recovery and the lives and perceptions of those he meets.
I didn’t realize this, but strokes don’t just happen to the elderly. A stroke can happen to anyone. Anybody can have a stroke, any time. However, as devastating as they are, it is possible to view the stroke is a rebirth, a renewal, a way to change directions in your life. Mine was. I didn't know the signs and warnings. This could have been avoided. If only I had known what to look for! I think you should know.
This may sound rather strange, but at this point, I'm not really sure that my stroke was a totally negative experience! In fact, the stroke may have been a blessing in disguise. I would certainly never wish a stroke upon anyone else. However, my pre-stroke life, in retrospect, certainly left much to be desired. There have actually been many positive life changes that have resulted from my two year incapacitation. There is both my positive experience, and, some positive lessons.
I have divided this book into five types of information, in an attempt to achieve something that none of the other books on the subject seem to have accomplished. The existing literature appears to be either a scientific account or a personal story. In this account, I have defined five types of messages are trying:
1. Medical Fact. There is a great deal of information available on strokes and TIAs, or transient ischemic accidents. my objective here is to interlace this clinical information in lay terms, and exemplify the clinical information through personal experience.
2. Personal Account. I want to tell my story. From my understanding, it is not necessarily typical. However, I believe, or at least hope, that you’ll find it interesting and engaging. It also helps to exemplify the clinical facts.
3. Personal Observations. After having experienced a stroke, and talking to many many also have, as well as their family and friends, I think it’s fair to say that I can draw some solution both about the stroke experience and about the way we live our lives -- based on pre-stroke and post-strokeas experiences.
4. Other People’s Perceptions. I have learned much about what other people think of strokes and stroke victims which I will describe here.
5. Conclusions or Questions. No doubt, experiencing a stroke has created certain conditions and left me with certain observations and conclusions which I will share with you. But as often as not, many questions are raised for which I still have no answers and I am still searching for enlightenment.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The Exploding Pill: A bit of humor.
I presume that someday this story to find its way into Brain Storm, but, it actually happened much earlier, and is only tangentially related. But it is funny!
I have had a condition known as gout, for years. I was first diagnosed when I was about 17 years old by a doctor who was also a family friend. Prior to that, I have complained of pain in my knee for about two years and had the diagnosed with all kinds of strange ailments. None of them actually turned out to be true. . However, my mother sent me off to her friend. Knowing my history, he smiled the minute I walked in. You have gout! That's what he told me. He didn't even ask me any questions or look at my knee. My mom had filled him in on the symptoms. Of course, he had to do some blood tests to verify. He was right.
That was back in the 1970s. The treatment of choice for gout, at the time, was a pill called Colchicine. I took it every day. However, I was warned, take it with food. Well, I was late for work. I popped the Colchicine, hopped in the car and started to drive to work. Suddenly, I had indigestion. It wasn't bad, just a little uncomfortable. Then I burped! Blue smoke came billowing out of my mouth accompanied by a horrible aftertaste! I had no idea what was, but the discomfort when away, and I didn't think about it for a while.
A couple of weeks later, I was relating the story to a co-worker. I hadn't figured it out, but driving to work I mysteriously belched blue smoke! I cited the smoke and the foul taste. And she immediately started laughing. I agree, it was funny. But not that funny.
I have had a condition known as gout, for years. I was first diagnosed when I was about 17 years old by a doctor who was also a family friend. Prior to that, I have complained of pain in my knee for about two years and had the diagnosed with all kinds of strange ailments. None of them actually turned out to be true. . However, my mother sent me off to her friend. Knowing my history, he smiled the minute I walked in. You have gout! That's what he told me. He didn't even ask me any questions or look at my knee. My mom had filled him in on the symptoms. Of course, he had to do some blood tests to verify. He was right.
That was back in the 1970s. The treatment of choice for gout, at the time, was a pill called Colchicine. I took it every day. However, I was warned, take it with food. Well, I was late for work. I popped the Colchicine, hopped in the car and started to drive to work. Suddenly, I had indigestion. It wasn't bad, just a little uncomfortable. Then I burped! Blue smoke came billowing out of my mouth accompanied by a horrible aftertaste! I had no idea what was, but the discomfort when away, and I didn't think about it for a while.
A couple of weeks later, I was relating the story to a co-worker. I hadn't figured it out, but driving to work I mysteriously belched blue smoke! I cited the smoke and the foul taste. And she immediately started laughing. I agree, it was funny. But not that funny.
Then she told me that she had a similar experience. She asked me if I had gout. I said yes, of course. Then she asked me if I was taking Colchicine. Yes, I answered unexpectedly. She advised me that she also had gout, that she had been prescribed Colchicin, that they told her to take it on a full stomach -- and she didn't. The consequence was that pill blew up in her stomach causing her to belch blue smoke, have a lousy taste in her mouth, and, since she was obviously smarter than me, call a doctor! He told her what happened, said she was lucky, and told her not to take the damn pill on an empty stomach. anymore.
Now they use a drug called allopurinol. Although Colchicine has very rare uses -- it is also called the horse pill because then as now, it is used on thoroughbreds who get sore ankles! It's still a veterinarian's dream.
Now they use a drug called allopurinol. Although Colchicine has very rare uses -- it is also called the horse pill because then as now, it is used on thoroughbreds who get sore ankles! It's still a veterinarian's dream.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I'm baaaack.
Hello all!
Well, it's been quite sometime since I've posted to this blog. Since my stroke things have been very busy. I am actually in the process of several, simultaneous writing projects. My friend Chalotta actually suggested that I write my biography.She works in the health care profession in Australia, and has told my story to many of her patients/clients (although never using my name). It turns out, many, many people found the story of my stroke, recovery, and life sentence to be a compelling, interesting and surprisingly, even inspiring story. I never thought so. However, I started to write, with my three collaborators Chalotta, Mimi and Arnie. As I sat back and read what I was writing, looking at it as a dispassionate observer, the story was actually quite compelling! Like seems to be a blur when you are living it, and it is only through retrospection that it actually comes into focus.
Well, it's been quite sometime since I've posted to this blog. Since my stroke things have been very busy. I am actually in the process of several, simultaneous writing projects. My friend Chalotta actually suggested that I write my biography.She works in the health care profession in Australia, and has told my story to many of her patients/clients (although never using my name). It turns out, many, many people found the story of my stroke, recovery, and life sentence to be a compelling, interesting and surprisingly, even inspiring story. I never thought so. However, I started to write, with my three collaborators Chalotta, Mimi and Arnie. As I sat back and read what I was writing, looking at it as a dispassionate observer, the story was actually quite compelling! Like seems to be a blur when you are living it, and it is only through retrospection that it actually comes into focus.
Brain Storm: The Story of A Stroke and Recovery.
This is my initial post on the subject of Brain Storm, the autobiographical story of my struggle after my stroke, the progress of my recovery, and some very, very surprisinglessons that I learned from the experience and surprising conclusions to which I have come.
Who would be interested in Brain Storm?
Clearly, one audience is anyone who's had a stroke. I'm sure that friends and relatives of stroke victims will also find it interesting. But, as it's also a story about life, revelation, and figuring out why the heck we're here. The stroke lead me the time to think about those things, to study them. My conclusion startled even myself! If you're looking for anything inspirational or thought-provoking -- I'd suggest you give it a try.
Each of the chapters or sections of the book falls into one of the following categories. Because, initially, it will be published as an e-book, the idea of having multiple threads of thought and multiple paths through the material is intriguing.
Chapter Categories:
0002 Table of Contents
https://docs7.google.com/document/edit?id=1ENVBY2ewYAx79FUq6PUukccF8ILnfuD0thFcl8feQUs&hl=en#
0005 Preface
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1DyLC9kk4oBRCxurgyOjY0Kp7fbgVxPogkFmuhhc4exc&hl=en#
0010 Does God play dice?
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1Zv1p36ybgMLKBdHao1uawdDQ6vZ_11JP0NvELa5xRbo&hl=en#
0020 the DEW line
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1AY4OQEXaVKJJ51iy9j-9UVv3VSx-Y5Zsklky9tJxNZc&hl=en#
0030 Memory.
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1LdOyzJnHFsYSSZliZ6--7efZA0A6_KAGEDVFjSw1Nd0&hl=en#
0040 Reconnecting
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1f5Izb9PHC6PKCEtAPU0rrSB2Rxs-58STgKNS6Tvbrvs&hl=en#
0050 Sleepless in Seattle
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=17xAKYPR3B0vZTjwpD0D22r-i6VKlxM_mx1WqHb6MelQ&hl=en#
0060 Crash and Burn
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=18itCUTKI8ZATcwsZXT-AqdcA5a4IRx3rxjkVFRxxxlI&hl=en#
0070 Stoned again! Redux
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1-E98bjSqgHObzDY2zvHqfCFrnDJwo-jrqPisHjVWlAA&hl=en#
0080 Practice makes perfect? Or: That’s why they call it the practice of medicine.
0090 Fear of Flying.
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1_hgu4o-KTyjbRe7lLzPEfk_eh47BszcTPHBjZYoZ5ak&hl=en#
0100 Who said the web is easy?
Who would be interested in Brain Storm?
Clearly, one audience is anyone who's had a stroke. I'm sure that friends and relatives of stroke victims will also find it interesting. But, as it's also a story about life, revelation, and figuring out why the heck we're here. The stroke lead me the time to think about those things, to study them. My conclusion startled even myself! If you're looking for anything inspirational or thought-provoking -- I'd suggest you give it a try.
Each of the chapters or sections of the book falls into one of the following categories. Because, initially, it will be published as an e-book, the idea of having multiple threads of thought and multiple paths through the material is intriguing.
Chapter Categories:
- Medical Fact
- Personal Account
- Personal Observations
- Other People’s Perceptions
- Conclusions or Questions
0002 Table of Contents
https://docs7.google.com/document/edit?id=1ENVBY2ewYAx79FUq6PUukccF8ILnfuD0thFcl8feQUs&hl=en#
0005 Preface
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1DyLC9kk4oBRCxurgyOjY0Kp7fbgVxPogkFmuhhc4exc&hl=en#
0010 Does God play dice?
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1Zv1p36ybgMLKBdHao1uawdDQ6vZ_11JP0NvELa5xRbo&hl=en#
0020 the DEW line
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1AY4OQEXaVKJJ51iy9j-9UVv3VSx-Y5Zsklky9tJxNZc&hl=en#
0030 Memory.
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1LdOyzJnHFsYSSZliZ6--7efZA0A6_KAGEDVFjSw1Nd0&hl=en#
0040 Reconnecting
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1f5Izb9PHC6PKCEtAPU0rrSB2Rxs-58STgKNS6Tvbrvs&hl=en#
0050 Sleepless in Seattle
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=17xAKYPR3B0vZTjwpD0D22r-i6VKlxM_mx1WqHb6MelQ&hl=en#
0060 Crash and Burn
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=18itCUTKI8ZATcwsZXT-AqdcA5a4IRx3rxjkVFRxxxlI&hl=en#
0070 Stoned again! Redux
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1-E98bjSqgHObzDY2zvHqfCFrnDJwo-jrqPisHjVWlAA&hl=en#
0080 Practice makes perfect? Or: That’s why they call it the practice of medicine.
0090 Fear of Flying.
https://docs1.google.com/document/edit?id=1_hgu4o-KTyjbRe7lLzPEfk_eh47BszcTPHBjZYoZ5ak&hl=en#
0100 Who said the web is easy?
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Blast from the Past
Suffice it to say that we are things continue to happen, one after my stroke. This is a tale of one of those situations.
I had a female friend who hailed from a foreign country, for now it doesn’t matter which one. Let’s call her Susie, for now anyhow. I met Susie under strange circumstances years ago. We communicated, long-distance, by phone and computer for a long time. One day I was particularly harried at the office, and Suzy called on the phone. “Today’s a really crappy day,” I said to her on the phone. We often shared the good and the bad in our weird telephonic relationship. “I feel like shooting myself in the head right now,” I said in my particularly American, over the top way. We chatted a couple more minutes and I went on about my business.
Flash forward – many hours later. The phone rings. It’s Suzie. “I will be there in a few hours,” she informed me, and hung up. I wasn’t going to be! I called my son who happen to live with me and warned him that some stranger from a foreign land would be descending upon the house looking for me. As always, my son expected the unexpected. He let her in. I arrived later. I found them out by the pool sipping a beer.
We had a fabulous, romantic, sexy friendship for a while. I don’t quite know what happened. She was making a trip back home and we did a little he said/she said, and it was over. But it was a very memorable couple of months.
Flash forward – a year and a half after my stroke. Facebook is an amazing thing. I get a message from somebody named Susie Jones. Either no one is Susie Jones. I do, fondling, remember Susie though. It’s her! Out of nowhere. Somewhere in the dim past of my memory every member Suzy got married. Well, Suzy was informing me that she was now divorced. She was just using Facebook to catch up with old friends and acquaintances. She saw my picture, and wrote. And we wrote, and talked, and wrote, and talked, you get the picture. As soon as Susie gets her passport – she’ll be here.
Probably a couple weeks after a move into the new house. I can’t wait to see her. Although, I have to wouldn’t, I tried desperately to dissuade her. I had her stroke… unemployed… paralyzed on the right side… old man now (as always, the women in my life were substantially younger than me)… not working… broke… you get the picture.
Now you have to remember, Susie was an athlete. A world-class skater until she busted ankle. A dancer, a sportsman. A model. You get the picture.
Susie’s response, “You will never believe this. I went back to school, became a nurse, and am currently working in a rehab center helping stroke victims. We can do rehab. We can go horseback riding together. Lots of stroke victims do that as rehabilitation…” Okay, how do I turn down an offer like that? I mean, seriously.
I’ll keep you posted.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Reconnecting
A few people wondered why he seemed so he was for it in the hospital. I spend more than a month they are recovering from a stroke. One thing that amazed many people, including my family, including me… was my unusually good mood. Here I was – no income, in the hospital, paralyzed on the right side and unable to walk or use my right arm or hand. You would think that would be a very depressing thing. But I wasn’t impressed at all. My kids and my mother attributed it to some really good rugs they must have been giving me. It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized that I was now taking the same drugs that I was taking in the hospital. There were no magic mushrooms to perk up my mood. Just stuff to keep the blood pressure down, fight off blood clots and keep the gavel under control. That’s it.
What accounted for my usual attitude in the hospital? If you couldn’t walk or use your right arm, if you were scooting around a wheelchair, if you had been fiercely independent and were now dependent upon the people around you – that would seem like a prescription for depression.
After talking with my stroke doctor is, Dr. Hayes, I figured it out. I had lived a high-pressure lifestyle. The highs were enormously high. The lows were cavernously low. Very little time was spent in the middle ground. Although I love my kids and my kids love me, my relationships managed to alienate them. My romantic relationships were volatile. I was an all or nothing person.
The euphoria that I experienced after my stroke wasn’t due to drugs and wasn’t experiential. It was because, for the first time in my life, a really treasured those simple things in life that we forget about when we are busy – family and friends. Disabled as I was, the workforce would have to wait. My kids, my mother, a few of my close friends were the most important things in my life. Their presence, their happiness and their companionship was what made me happy.
It’s a good thing too… while I was sick I lost my house and most of my personal possessions! I had a couple of van loads of stuff. But I had family and friends. As time went on – I realized who my real friends were. My partner at them had been my friend for more than 20 years and he stood by me. My friend and business associate Arnie, ditto. As my recovery progress, I found a few more of those old friends. Bill, Tara, Andrew and Sheila, Jonathan, Mimi, Charlotta, Adam2 and Zannell, Frank, Manny, and more than I can even remember (hmmm… there are a lot of women in there, aren’t there?) have stayed in touch and supported me throughout my ongoing recovery.
That’s worth more than cash.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Fear Of Flying
In the good old days, flying was like breathing. It was just something you did. New York, Detroit, Chicago, Minneapolis, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Houston, you get it. Then there was the international trail to London and Paris, Helsinki, Tokyo, etc.
Now mix in one massive dose of stroke. Until it came time to go somewhere, I didn’t think about it much. It took me almost a year just to drive a car again. But my partner, Adam, decided it was time to go back up to Connecticut. I was cured to death. Get on the shuttle. Go to the airport. Get off. Check bags. It was quite a daunting thought to figure out how to navigate an airport when the words come the signs look like pretty pictures. But I did get. I was terrified. But, I did it. It wasn’t so bad after all.
There are two things you have to do. One, trust what memory you have left. Two, walk with a cane. Until I needed one, I never realized this symbolic power that a team has in modern society. Crutches, or a wheelchair seem to connote to the masses “This person is past his prime.” They defined the user is someone who is ill or injured. But a cane – a cane signifies a fighter, someone who overcomes obstacles, who is not stopped, even by a brick wall. Dancers on stage use canes in their routine. Batt Masterson, that sophisticated, old West crime fighter, and even magicians use canes. They denote a person who not only overcomes some physical imperfection – but even excels in other areas to more than even the balance.
Maybe I can no longer read 1000 words a minute or throw a baseball with my right hand or walk without a limp – but I carry a cane. I am a mighty figure. Batt Masterson, Look out. You have a very formidable 21st century competitor – me.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Who said the web is easy?
I have a bone to pick with some fancy pants artist Web developers. But before I go too far, let me say clearly that web development (i.e., programming) and website design (i.e., how pretty the pages look) are two totally and completely different things. Programmers rarely stray into the page design arena... but page designers frequently rummage their way around programming. That's because the distinction between designing a webpage and writing a program that supports a webpage are difficult for the uninitiated to distinguish.
Now that I'm done with my editorial, let me tell you what my real issue is. When I had my stroke, I lost my ability to read -- completely. Letters on a page which is pretty pictures. I did not lose my ability to spell! If you tell me award I can tell you how it's spelled. If you spell a word out loud to me, I can tell you what it is. It is merely the visual recognition of letters on a page that was impaired by the stroke. I have to limit, after a year and a half, I'm probably a first or second grade reading level. That's a far cry from the 1000 words a minute that I was able to read and comprehend before my stroke. But, being philosophical, it's better than not being able to read it all. And, there is some hope for the future that I may get my reading back to an eighth, ninth or even 10th grade level, with a lot of hard work.
Back to the basic issue. There are two ways to build a website. I will call them the right way and the wrong way.
Let's examine the wrong way first. If you want to alienate some 10 to 15% of the market that is handicapped, or to be PC -- otherly abled (?) -- that make webpages with pictures. If I go to something approaching 80% of the sites on the web, the software on my computer is capable of reading the page out loud to me. There are pretty pictures, pretty backgrounds, all that stuff. However, text is text. You have literally thousands of fonts to choose from, and a palette of zillions of colors. Why in gods name would anyone take their text and make it a graphic image?
Now let's talk about the right way. it's really pretty simple. Text is text. Graphics are graphics. A graphic with some text on it should be just that, a graphic with some text on it. Only in some very we are instances -- computer-based games, advertisements, stuff like that -- is it permissible to make the text graphic.
Now here's a big beef with Apple Computer. I like the iPhone. I like your web apps. However, I hate it when I look at the Apple developer site on my PC. My PC software won't read Apple type! It's as if every Apple rendered site in the world is a graphic. I have an iPod. I'd love to put more stuff on it. I'd love to read the documentation. Alas, I can't. Apple, you're so good at user interfaces... why do you forget about us poor schmucks who have trouble reading a computer screen? This is supposed to be your thing! please, do something about it.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Sleepless in Seattle -- or somewhere
Pace ... set ... watched TV... read ... pay some more ... lay in bed with eyes closed ... lay in bed with eyes open ... pace ... I think I will go crazy if this doesn't quit soon. Insomnia. The inability to sleep. It's driving me nuts.
The average person needs eight hours of sleep a night. There are basically three sleep stages. The eight hours is divided into a) about 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to get to sleep, b) 2 1/2 hours of various sleep stages to wake up, and c) three hours of deep, restful, dreamless sleep known technically as somnambulism, otherwise known as deep sleep (getting there and waking up are called REM, initials for rapid eye movement, characteristic of that form of sleep).
Some people, either naturally or through training, can get to deep sleep very quickly. Those people need the ability to sleep three hours, and spend whatever time it takes to fall asleep and wake up. falling asleep and waking up times seem to have no effect on the body.
When I was younger, As a result of training, I used to sleep only about four hours a day. It gradually became more as I grew older. but basically, anybody can train themselves to fall asleep and wake up quickly. I used to be able to sleep on planes trains and automobiles. Basically, if I was moving and not driving, I slept. It was a very useful skill.
For the first several months after my stroke, sleeping was not the problem. I'd sack out of 8 or 9 PM and wake up by 5 or 6 AM. It was actually a very nice schedule. I also noticed, I might trip to Connecticut, but I hadn't lost my skill of falling asleep on the airplane. Life was good. It was after I got to Connecticut that I started having problems. At first, I attributed to a new environment, doing something exciting, lots of reasons. There's only one problem. It's a year later, and I still can't sleep.
Maybe I should just hire somebody to drive me around the block and park near the driveway once I fall asleep!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Fear of Flying.
When I was flat on my back in the hospital, my dear friend and business partner Adam came to Florida to visit me several times. After I came to my mothers house to live, Adam suggested that I make a trip up to Connecticut to visit him and my son Christopher, who lived in the nearby town. What was once as natural as breathing became one of the scariest events in my life.
I hadn't yet recovered enough to drive. I rarely ventured outside the house. In fact, I had just learned to walk with a cane and forgo the wheelchair. the world outside was terrifying. I couldn't read street signs. I couldn't remember words. I had no peripheral vision on the right hand side. Everything looks strange, smelled strange, tasted strange. My senses deceived me. It was as though I had dropped into an alien, foreboding, parallel universe.
I mustered up the courage. I had always been an adventurer. This was just another danger. Para-sailing, bungee jumping, all those risky things than I did in my former life paled in comparison to stepping on an airplane. But I did it. I guess, even with the stroke, once an adrenaline junkie, always an adrenaline junkie. All that changed was the drug.
I had a wonderful, two-week trip. It broke me out of my shell. It forced me to begin tour the world. What seemed an insurmountable obstacle, at first blush, turned out to be a mere annoyance. A little harder to do than before.
As humans we need to push ourselves. We need to do that which is slightly fearful, to overcome small challenges, so that we grow and can overcome larger challenges. I suppose I knew that before I had my stroke. But I never consciously thought about it. Now I do. And I'm grateful for the lesson.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Stoned again! Redux
When it rains, it pours. Right after I had my stroke, I went to the doctor about a pain in my back on the right side. That doctor sent me to another doctor. The second doctor almost killed me by mixing up my drugs -- but that's another story. The second doctor, we'll call him Dr. X., decided that I had kidney stone. Alas, indeed, that was true. that's the part of the story is true. We'll talk about how Dr. X. nearly killed me in another post.
Well, I had a kidney stone. Fortunately, I have had kidney stones before. Now for those of you who are uneducated, there are two distinct types of kidney stones. The most common kind is caused by calcium buildup to the kidney the second, and by far more rare, is the uric acids Crystal buildup in the kidney resulting from a condition called gout. the symptoms are similar, but the treatments are completely different. For uric acid crystals, they pump you up with fluids and wait. The stone resolves itself. Usually. With calcium-based kidney stones, they generally do a process called lithotripsy.
Mistake number one. I have a history of gout. I told the doctor that. Even so, he still recommended lithotripsy. That's what happens when you go to a surgeon. He recommends what he knows. I talked to a number of people about lithotripsy. Basically, the cure can be worse than the disease. Unless your stones are killing you, don't do it. Based on that advice, I didn't. And, of course, the doctor was not happy. However, realizing that the stones were resulted of the doubt, the doctor prescribed allopurinol, which is fine. However, you do with all my meds and his hands, he prescribed potassium citrate. other than the fact that that drug interacts with every other medication I was taking it was fine. Well, it nearly killed me. It crashed my blood pressure. Everybody asked me what he prescribed. Now I'm debating whether to sue over. I probably won't. Bad karma.
This weekend been suffering for three days with the residue left for the big uric acid crystals. Fine one minute. Flat on my back the next. However, three days of aggravation beats four months of lithotripsy treatments!
The moral of the story? I'm not going to sue the doctor. They call it the practice of medicine. mistakes happen. When in doubt -- do some research. You are in charge of your own fate, ultimately.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Siddhartha Gautama -- the Buddha.
I was lying on my bed in the emergency room, waiting for the verdict of the pain in my back (see previous article on kidney stones). I have studied the life of Buddha before my stroke, but hadn't had much time to consider it since. Now I think the reason for my kidney stones was really a way to get me to watch this television show.
Buddha started off life as a prince. He was tampered by his father, never being allowed to know or understand hardship. he was to be the next king. He was married at a young age and had one child. Early in his adult life he ventured out into the world, unattended by his father's guardians. He saw pain, suffering, hunger, illness -- things he had never seen before.
The Buddha left his life of luxury and ventured into the world in search of truth. He lived as a student, learning under knowledgeable figures of the age. He tried to attain lightning than by self mortification. Ultimately, he realized that we construct our own pain, and we manage our own joy.
The story is much longer, and I will not tell it all here; however suffice it to say that I read learned lessons I had forgotten. The greatest of those lessons is that I am here, alive, and there must be some purpose to my life. Whether it is to it merely experience a raindrop falling on my brow; help the number one daughter during her time of need; watch number two daughter graduate from college; or, just observe my son, his wife and their child grow up learning. There is joy to be found, happiness to be found in the simplest of things.
Unhappiness is rooted in reflecting on what we have lost or what we do not have. Happiness is rooted in rejoicing over the love of others, considering what might be yet, and will we might yet achieve.
Buddhists will tell you that the history of Buddha need not be accurate. The stories and parables from his life may be true or not. That is not the point. The point is the message. The point is the learning. Strive every day to make one other person smile, to make one other person's burden easier, to reflect on the miracle of the seedling growing into a flower.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter Sunday 2010
This is the second Easter since my stroke. I don't remember much about the last one. But today, I'm in Florida, living at my mothers house, and I'm alone. My mother is still in rehab from her back surgery. When I'm not sick, I go over and visit, almost everyday.
I've decided that it stinks being alone! All my life I've either live with my parents, lived in a college dorm or live with the wife. This being alone stuff is new to me. I don't quite know how to take it. Since I lost everything in my stroke, I live with my mother in a retirement community. Everyone that lives in the section of the retirement community is about my mother's age. The are all 30 years older than I am. Is this what I have to look forward to in my old age? it makes you pause and think, reflect on your life, your accomplishments and your failures. The real question is -- do I have one more mission in me? Do I have one more success? Or, is this all there is. Good question don't you think.
I prefer to think that I have one more success in me. 55 is too young to roll over and play dead.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Stoned again!
The Roman gladiators were reputed to have had as their motto, " That which does not kill us makes us stronger." I fervently hope that they are correct. since I was a teenager, I suffered from gout. The image we often see is an old man sitting in a chair with his foot raised and wrapped in a bandage. that is one way that gout can manifest itself.
Gout is a form of arthritis. it is a buildup of uric acid crystals in the joints, whereas arthritis is a buildup of excess calcium, or wearing down of the ligaments. However, uric acid crystals have other ways to invade the body. One of those ways is by collecting in the kidney, and manifesting as a kidney stone. Calcium can also do this. The symptoms are identical, but the treatments are very different. Unlike calcium, uric acid dissolves water. The crystals were enough water and they dissolve -- hopefully.
Generally, there are some great drugs they can get people to kill the pain And he said the dissolution of the crystals. Unfortunately, those drugs are incompatible with drugs they give people who had a stroke. So, the solution is drink a lot of water, take massive doses of ibuprofen for pain, and waited out.
It's not likely to kill me. I'll let you know if that makes me stronger. In the meantime, I'm going to lay on the bed and suffer a little.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Home from the adventure
I went to Connecticut for two weeks. It was the third such trip I've made since I had my stroke. I've gotten pretty good at getting to and from the airport, navigating once I'm there, and getting to my final destination.
Congratulations again, Chris and Ajza. That's the reason I went to Connecticut this time.
Chris, now theres a chip off the old block. He'll try anything once ... eating bugs and worms, stinging himself on the arm with multiple critters to see which hurt worst. We won't even mention his four year stint in the Marines. I'm glad he lived through it long enough to settle down and get married, even if he is still crazy.
I remember the first time I flew on an airplane after my stroke. I was scared to death. It seems as though the first time I was doing anything new, post stroke, it was like doing it for the first time. There is a difference in my psyche. I used to have no concept of fear. Hang gliding, bungee jumping, motorcycle riding, an adrenalin junkie ... that's how I used to live. Perhaps that's why was married three times.
I've decided that the most significant aspect of my stroke, psychologically, is that I now know what fear is. I've developed this ability to be afraid of things. In most modern situations, except for the most extreme, like being robbed at gun point, falling off a cliff, or having somebody try to run you down with their car, fear is pretty useless. That is, unless it can be positively channeld.
I watched my daughter break her arm in an accident. A while later, she broke her big toe in another accident. my son split open his four head one Halloween evening. Things like that happened. The instant clear mind, the ability to raise a sense of humor in the midst of disaster, basically the effects of adrenaline can be useful. I'm not against adrenaline -- just fear, which is debilitating.
Here is my message to you. Raising the adrenaline level is okay. Channeling that adrenaline, with a clear mind, is okay. Fear, however, is relatively useless. My kids haven't died from climbing trees and falling out. I haven't died, yet, for many of the crazy things I've done. Would we as a family have done is live every minute of every day, and know what it means to be alive. Now I have a new appreciation for that.
I think I'll give up fear for Lent.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The first days
I was in Brandon Regional Hospital for the first week or so, where I was rushed by ambulance that Sunday afternoon. The hospital staff's objective in their was just to keep me alive. My kids tell me it was touch and go those first few days.
Thoughts, images, memories float in and out of my head like short movie clips, but not a whole day; nothing durable, concrete, that I can latch onto and say I remember. I can remember a few incidents, but that's all.
My first solid memories are of my rehabilitation at Tampa General Hospital, where I spent over a month. they took me by ambulance. I remember my youngest daughter, Kelly, riding next to me. My oldest, Kimberly, followed us over in the car. I don't remember much about my arrival. But much of my time there is indelibly etched into my mind.
Every day was a great day. It was probably all the drugs they had me on. At home, now, I take 11 pills every day. In the hospital, I'm sure it was even more. I was so drugged up that I had no time to be depressed. In retrospect, I can see how people become addicted to drugs.
Monday, March 29, 2010
It couldn't happen to a nicer guy!
It was about 10 AM, Sunday September 14, 2008.
I got up, showered, shaved, and got ready for the weekly pilgrimage to my mothers house. She was in her 80s. I did a couple of odds and ends around the house, and took her to lunch every Sunday. Well, most Sundays anyhow.
Here's the timeline of what happened next:
11:00 AM. I take off in the car. The drive is about a half an hour.
11:05 AM. Get on the highway. Call Arnie -- a Sunday ritual.
11:06 AM. Notice the right eye is bothering me. It's like a dark spot. Decide if the contacts.
11:07 AM. Reminder: make appointment to see optometrist on Monday.
11:15 AM. Call Adam. I still believe you me. But, don't say anything.
11:30 AM. Arrive at mothers. Say hi. Do odds and ends around the house.
11:50 AM. Head to lunch -- Bob Evans restaurant. Standard Sunday drinking lunch!
12:01 PM. My right eye is still bugging me! However, I read the menu just fine.
12:45 PM. Finish lunch, chitchat, take mom home.
12:55 PM. Call wife, tell her I'm on the way.
01:03 PM. Call back Arnie.
01:45 PM. Arrive home.
01:50 PM. Kiss wife, go upstairs to work for about 30 minutes.
01:51 PM. See letters on a computer screen, but they make absolutely no sense.
01:52 PM. Go downstairs. Complaints of life. I have no idea what's wrong with me. But I feel fine.
01:53 PM. Wife insists I lay down on the couch. I think it's stupid, but comply.
02:15 PM. Ambulance arrives! Ambulance paramedics do all sorts of stuff.
02:30 PM. Ambulance rushes me to hospital. Seemed fine on the way there.
Sometime? Arrive at hospital. I remember arms and legs still work. I remember getting there. I remember being wheeled out of the ambulance. Black out. Something steps in my head. consciousness turns off as somebody threw a light switch. It's a couple of days before I regained consciousness and realize what's going on.
In the space of 5 hours I went from thriving, energetic business and family man to blithering, paralyzed, incontinent the vegetable, on the verge of death.
I went from nearly dead, paralyzed, nearly mindless person to a man who couldn't see out of the right side, useless arm in a sling, wheelchair riding semi vegetable in the space of a couple of months.
Truthfully, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me! Sounds weird? You will see why.
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