Thank you to all who have served and sacrificed.
More quandary… I woke up early again today. I think I’m just jazzed about having extended time off, and all the ideas I normally don’t have the time to really dig into are pushing at the edges of my thought process.
They’re like neglected children — or puppies — all clamoring for attention.
What to do?
Well, first, I need to realize that this is a really good problem to have. A lot of people never figure out just what they want to do with their lives. I know what I want to do, and I’m doing it.
I just need to figure out how to make the most of it — and also get support from others to keep doing it. I spend a whole lot of time researching and writing and publishing, yet so far, the majority of the support has been motivational, moral support. I’m not knocking that — far from it. The “emotional paycheck” (as they call it) has been hugely important to me.
The thing is, emotions don’t really pay the bills, and I’ve gotta do that. So, I spent the lion’s share of my time working jobs that will get me money, so I can keep up this work… keep it going. And do more.
The other thing that’s kind of throwing me off, is that I’ve gotten into a pretty good space with my life. Sure, I still have issues that make my days “interesting”, but they’re manageable. I’ve figured out how to either ameliorate them or work around them or just plain ignore them and move along with my life. All the energy and time and focus I spent on identifying my issues, addressing them, coming up with new strategies and techniques, etc., etc. …. well, it’s all paid off. And I’m in a really competent space right now (when I’m not mouthing off to police officers and managers at work, anyway).
And now where do I go?
I mean, seriously. I’ve felt like I was barely breaking even, for most of my 50 years. I’ve always had the sense that I was playing catch-up… and I wasn’t catching up very fast.
Now that I have the sense that I AM caught up, what do I do with myself?
If all you’re doing for your entire life, is trying to break even, and your whole life is geared towards laying low and minimizing risk, how can you transition to stepping out and above and beyond, when you no longer have to be chasing an ever-elusive goal?
If all your life you’re geared towards keeping things from blowing up, what do you do with yourself when you don’t have to be on constant guard? What do you do with all the energy that’s been spent on moment-by-moment damage control for so many years, when you’ve managed to achieve that level of control at a higher level?
And how do you keep yourself from imploding or going supernova from all the energy that comes up, when you’re not in constant fight-flight mode?
That there’s the question I’m wrangling with, this weekend. I have a lot of things I want to do, and that’s great. And in addition, I need to get used to the idea of moving forward into the unknown — and NOT having it all blow up in my face.
Well, this certainly keeps things interesting.
I didn’t get quite as much sleep as I wanted, last night. After dinner, my spouse and I ended up watching a documentary about people who left a cult, and it was so fascinating, I couldn’t look away.
Kind of like a train wreck. But the film was really well-made and engaging, so it wasn’t all bad.
Anyway, I woke up around 6:30, which means I got 7 hours of sleep, and I rode the exercise bike for half an hour or so. I read a couple of little ebooks and listened to music and also lifted light weights while I was riding. I have a couple of wrist weights that slip over the handle bars of my exercise bike, that I can use to work out my arms.
I have a pretty exciting weekend ahead – with lots of lounging about, going for hikes, and resting — and no, I’m not being facetious. I really am looking forward to being able to just get off the leash and kick back. Unwind. Not worry about much of anything. Work on some of my projects. Finish some things that I haven’t been able to finish… and spend time just hanging out with myself without any pressure or requirements, other than what I want to do.
It’s funny… I was having a conversation with a co-worker yesterday afternoon. We’re both contractors at the company where we’re working, and we both feel a huge amount of pressure to constantly perform at our highest. They said, “I feel like I’ve been on a 2-year-long job interview,” and it’s the truth. There is such a cultural divide between the permanent full-timers and the contractors, it’s wild. And we are under constant pressure to perform, because we’re so marginalized.
One of the projects I’m working on this weekend, is putting together a portfolio of projects I’ve brought to life at this company. I really have done some amazing work, which nobody could figure out how to do. There were some projects that had gotten started, and then just died on the vine, because nobody followed through. But I stepped in and got it done. I’m not getting egotistical. I’m just saying…
And it’s happened a number of times.
Anyway, I need to collect the evidence of that, add a description of the situation, the hurdles, the challenges, and what the eventual outcome was. Some of the things are amazingly cool. Others are interesting only to the 15 people on the planet who care about the inner workings of obscure technologies. But they all show results, and that’s what I have to lead with.
I think, if anything, this is going to put things in better perspective for me. At least show me that I have something to show for all my work. Because in this company, everybody seems to have amnesia — except for when you screw up.
Folks remember that stuff forever.
And I need to send out my resume to folks I promised it to.
I need to have a standard response for all these recruiters who contact me. Kind of like a form to return to them that tells them what I’m looking for, when I’m looking, and how best to contact me. I’ll attach two versions of my resume – 1 full-length, 1 condensed – along with my portfolio of “solutions”, and have it saved to an email.
Then I can just reply back to all the recruiters who contact me and send this packet along. And I won’t have to think about it each time. Practically automate it. Or maybe I will set up another email address that has an “autoresponder” on it, that automatically delivers my package for me. And I can tell all the recruiters to go there, instead of contacting me at my main email.
Yes! That’s what I’ll do. That will make things a whole lot easier, so I don’t have to manually send out a new resume all the time. What a pain in the a$$ that is. And I need to update my resume on all the job boards to use that new email. It will simplify things considerably, I believe… save me from having to go back to my home computer after a long day at the office.
Sometimes, the last thing I want to do, is network after a long day. Or a long week. Or whenever.
Okay, I got that set up, and now I don’t have to worry about “stuff”. And I don’t have to get into digging up past copies of my resume, every time someone reaches out to me. That’s such a pain in the neck.
Anyway, yes, my day has gotten off to a good start. And now it’s time to wash up my breakfast dishes and go for a walk in the woods.
Before a long weekend, to boot.
It’s unfortunate that I am so elated that I won’t have to be at work for three days in a row.
At the same time, though, it just goes to show that I have better things to do with my time than deal with these [insert irritated nickname here].
It’s kind of bizarre. I’m on a contract with a company that is a wreck. As some of my fabulous friends say, they are a hot mess. The people who have been there the longest can’t seem to get anything done. They just don’t seem to want to work.
Yet the folks who can get things done — the rock stars and peak performers — are treated like crap because we expose the ineptitude of the long-timers.
Boo – effing – hoo.
It’s interesting that with each passing day, I see more clearly how well I really do work, compared to others. And how poorly others do, compared to me. I’m not getting all conceited, I just have never actually compared myself to others favorably — I always gave myself the short end of the stick, and I never thought much of my abilities.
That’s changed, in the past few years. I can see objectively now, that I do know how to be effective and efficient, while a lot of others don’t.
I had lunch with a former colleague the other day, who was recently the CEO of some hot-shot company. They left that position to go do some personal projects, and they’re fighting off executive recruiters who are trying to get them into a new CEO job at one of the region’s top companies worth something like $150 million or somesuch. They’re in demand, which is
always usually nice.
The thing is…. though they are a friend and they are connected… they are not very smart. They don’t have the spark, the quickness, or the drive that you’d think a top performer would have. And yet…
Well, they did go to the right schools, and they are connected in the business community, so that works in their favor.
And they are a good friend to have, simply because of that.
It just always surprises me, when not-very-smart people who can’t do their jobs, are put in charge of big projects. Like… everywhere.
Kind of makes you wonder…
Oh, screw it. It’s Friday.
I got a printed report in the mail, and things are looking good.
No acute intracranial abnormality.
No significant abnormality along my trigeminal or facial nerves.
Pineal cyst is stable since 2009, probably benign.
There are a few little “hyperintensities” in the right frontoparietal white matter, but of doubtful clinical significance (in every terms, who knows what that means – it’s probably nothing).
The thing is, I don’t have anything annotated on my disk, so I can’t see precisely what the radiologist is talking about. I have a pretty good idea that the three little dots in the frontoparietal region on the T2 Flair image are what he’s talking about. I’ll just have request an annotated copy, I guess. Maybe that will have something.
As Mr. Spock would say, “Fascinating…”
I have been looking at my WordPress stats, following up on who has recently followed this blog.
In the last 2 weeks, 24 of you have joined me on this journey (22 via WordPress, 2 via email), so welcome. I don’t mean to be rude or take you for granted — please know that I appreciate you following, and I hope I bring something positive to your life.
I’m about to go out for my morning walk on an amazingly beautiful day, and before I do, I just want to say:
Whatever brought you to this blog, was probably for a very good reason. People come here all the time, not knowing what they will find, then they discover something that helps them. It’s both by accident, and by design. I don’t have any particular “content strategy” in mind, other than writing about the things that matter to me, as a TBI survivor dealing with an invisible set of difficulties, a regular person trying to build the best life possible, and as a member of the larger community who is sure that I’m not the only one who feels this way.
There are times when I am annoying, I whine and bitch and complain and am not my best self by any stretch of the imagination. I can be petulant and cranky and self-absorbed, and I can be a real trial at times — especially to myself ;)
Be that as it may, I have an incredible amount of goodness in my life, and I want to share that experience, as well as show others how I’ve gotten there through a combination of hard work and perseverance, and using my noggin to determine if what I’m doing is actually working. The times when I fail are the biggest lessons — and at times the most valuable.
I’m not afraid to fail. I just get a little tired of getting back up all the time.
But then, don’t we all…?
I know I am not alone in my frustrations and challenges. I’m human, and whether you’re dealing with a brain injury, another sort of injury, past trauma, ongoing difficulties in your life, or a hidden condition that others can never suspect is going on, we are all in this together, and we all have so much to share, if we take the time and put forth the effort.
The effort is not easy. But it is worth it. I start most of my days on this blog, because I remember all too well what it’s like to go through life in pain and frustration and despair, and feel so terribly alone. Some days I’d rather be doing something else than typing into a machine, and I can go for days without writing a word. But I know this is important — to me as well as others who find their way here and really value hearing someone else talk about life in ways that they can relate to.
That happens all too seldom. But I hope it won’t happen here.
So, to all of you — followers, as well as new readers from all over the world — thank you for your support. I’m happy you’re here.
Over the past years, I’ve had over 300,000 visitors come to this site, seeking…
They especially seek out information on how to slow down a racing heart.
And since I have a reliable technique I use to slow down my own heart rate when it’s racing a mile a minute, I shared it. People found it. Some of them had better results than others, but I’ve got over 30 people telling me directly that it works for them.
As it does for me.
Most of the time. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work at all. I’m human. My body has a mind of its own, now and again.
Anyway, I wrote up an extended explanation of how things work for me. It’s a PDF that you can download and save to your computer, tablet, or smartphone and a bunch of people have downloaded it. It’s also an eBook on Amazon, which I think one person has bought.
I was reading my PDF and thinking about parts that need to be changed, fixed, and otherwise updated, and it occurred to me that I really need a site for this. Especially because people are asking about heart rate monitors, so I can put a store up there, as well so people can just get their gear at the same time they’re reading, if they wish.
So, this is announcing my new site slowmyheartrate.com — for folks who just need a simple, free way to keep their heart from jumping out of their chest.*
* Provided they have no serious underlying medical condition, that is.
One thing that has been a consistent problem with me for many years, is understanding what people are saying and being able to hold a reasonable conversation that I could then remember later. Yesterday someone found their way to this blog by searching for an answer to why their brain injury makes it hard for them to understand what’s happening on t.v.
I kind of glossed over it — I was tired and I was running out of steam. But now luka wrote something in the comments that really summed up a lot of things I was unable to think of or put into words, yesterday. His words are in bold.
This difficulty in trying to understand what people are saying has been one of the hardest things for me to handle. There came a time I wanted only to be in another culture, so I’d have an excuse for just not “getting it”. Now I’m with my roots and I feel their hidden disdain for my existence. And I’m not running. I’m too tired and too old now. They’re stuck with this smart, retarted man. And I will take to isolation more and more, but I won’t be out sight out mind. But communication at times baffles me much more than one could tell. Well, not sure if it’s denial or pride, but I think for the most part it has been an area that has bewildered me. It’s that it fluctuates some and in my compensation and extreme need to focus and to remember, I can, at times, be more aware than anyone about what is being communicated. The problem is that there is usually a lag time. And in mid flight I’m stuck on details and snippets in the conversation that makes me miss much meaning that gives life meaning to our social species.
I can relate to what he says on so many levels. The lag time when people are talking to me… feeling like I have to constantly scramble to keep up — either working overtime to stay engaged in the conversation, or simply recall what someone said to me a few minutes ago. A lot of the time, it’s gone — for good — and I have to make it up as I go along, but I don’t have the energy to keep track of everything, write it all down, and sort things out in my head. So, as often as not, I just go along and pretend I know what’s happening.
I struggled with this for a long time — feeling stupid, feeling retarded, feeling lame. And I tried to address it with my neuropsych, who has really helped me to figure out how to hold a conversation. Now I can converse with people and be witty and whatnot. The only thing is, I’m still lagging. I still have the processing delay. My most recent test results show that my speed of information processing has NOT improved in the past 8 years. I’m two standard deviations below what would be expected of me, given my overall intelligence.
So, I’m literally not making it up. It’s not something I’ve concocted in my head to feel badly about myself or come up with a reason to get pity. It’s a thing. It’s a real, genuine thing. And the fact that my neuropsych keeps downplaying my irritation with it, just adds to the difficulty.
So, I have effectively learned how to make do in conversations with my neuropsych. I’ve learned how to fake it even better than before. I can hold my own pretty well and conduct a conversation, and I am even comfortable now, saying, “I don’t understand — can you please repeat what you just said?” I never, ever did that before, because I was too busy trying to keep up to stop the conversation to get clear on something that was lost along the way.
It’s not genuine improvement — it’s functional improvement. That means to me, I can function better, I look better to other people, and I have better outcomes from interactions with people. But I’m still in the dark. I’m still struggling. I just don’t show it.
The most painful thing, is that my neuropsych flatly refuses to believe that I still struggle with this. They seem to believe that by telling myself I’m fully functional and can do anything I can put my mind to, I can achieve the world. Or at least a significant part of it. They can be very strange that way, like someone who’s bought into a whole Great American Mythology of Anything Is Possible If You Just Try Hard Enough.
I hate it when people who should know better, fall prey to their own mythology. My neuropsych believes (truly) that you can make yourself into whoever and whatever you want to be, and if your experience isn’t turning out how you’d like it, you just change your definition of what constitutes a good experience, and voila — you’re a success. I’ll spare you my rant on that. It’s just a distraction.
I’ve actually been trying to speed up my processing, I’ve been trying to work on my distractability, I’ve been trying to strengthen those areas where I have demonstrated problems. But years into my rehab, five of the six areas of significant difficulty remain unchanged.
At least, that’s how it was in 2013. I may have actually improved since then.
Anyway, yeah, there’s the whole thing about people seeing your innate intelligence and then not understanding why you’re so stupid at times… that’s all too familiar. The sidelong glances when you say something unexpected… the subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints… the teasing that has a nasty edge to it… I understand why people do that. It’s because it makes them uncomfortable, and it’s not consistent with their image of who you are and how you should be.
People are neurologically and biochemically invested in us being a certain way — it tells them how they should be around us, which stimulates certain neuro and biochemical pathways. How we are, makes others who they are. And when we are “not who they think we are” in predictable ways, it’s an existential threat. So, they feel endangered. And they lash out at us without even knowing it. We frighten them — Simply by being different from what they expect. And they feel the need to defend themselves and their understandings of who they themselves are.
But even if I understand why people are this way, I am so sick of it. I’ve been sick of it for over 40 years. I’m just about to turn 50, and I started having TBIs when I was 7 years old — probably even before that. Heck, I might have had an anoxic brain injury when my mother left me in the care of a neighbor kid who was “special” and put a clothespin on my nose to see what would happen. (I’m swearing in my head, but I won’t write what I’m thinking.) People have been really unkind to me for a long, long time, because of TBI-induced irregularities in my behavior and performance, and even to this day, the spotty nature of my abilities makes me absolutely nuts.
Many people have told me that I had autism, but over the years, I am more convinced that it was the result of traumatic brain injuries. Some have said that they see it as absence siezures. And the psychologists see it as dissociation. People point to all that I accomplished in the world’s terms. As if it is proof I should see the last 25 years as a success. They point to pictures when I am smiling. And point out that I am “witty” and that wit takes intelligence. I feel dumb as I struggle to get around their idioms and block out sensory stimuli.
And in the past, I, too, was told I was on the Autistic spectrum — people who met me for the first time would actually tell me that it was okay if I was autistic. I didn’t need to be ashamed of it.
For a while, I was under the impression I’m an “Aspie” with Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s not a stretch — many of my family really look like they’re on the spectrum, and I’ve got nephews who could be quickly taken for Aspies. After much research into the nature of Asperger’s Syndrome and autistic spectrum (AS) issues, I realize how much TBI folks have in common with them. Sensory issues are a major component of the AS, and they are certainly an issue for brain-injured folks. The ticks and the soothing and the behaviors that I exhibited in the past, when my sensory issues were unacknowledged and unaddressed (See The Deepest Day) were very much like autistic behavior.
But they stemmed from another source. Once I learned what that was, and how to address it, a lot of that resolved.
I also in private and on many nights, wish that I did not wake up December 1991. I see my life as a complete flop. All my dreams passed me by. They see me as having lived the good life and wasteing my God given talents. Just a squanderer who needed a kick in the ass. I see myself as someone who needed much patience and understanding and encouragement. But one who got that from a special few docs and friends and in the end my precious daughter knows truth of her father who so many told her was crap, but I can’t say people and docs didn’t try; many did but the end, they grew weary and the very best one, discarded me. And down deep I gave up the medical scene. Doctors’ offices are now triggers for ptsd. How sad given all they did do for me even if they diagnosed me wrong. I’m finally saying screw everyone who looks at me as a failure or a nut case. I’m taking a little empathy that I bring to others and going to start giving it to me. I’m 52 and shunned by many. Behind my invisible injuries, seen as con games or character flaws, is a person whose not just had dreams shattered twenty-five years ago, but stopped knowing what I had dreamt of. What constantly hurts me is that I almost pulled it off. At age 39, while on lamictal, I had started to see how far I’d come and started to have live dreams for me. I even learned what “love” in the romantic sense could be as I knew it before 1991. But in early 2000’s I had another brain injury and now I feel that it’s too little too late. And I don’t have much energy to pretend anymore.
Amen to that, for sure. All my dreams seem to have dissipated… though I’m still working on them and still have hope. I’m pretty bummed, though, that I’ve lost so many years to this injury — years I will never get back. Along the way, I have had some help from people who were genuinely compassionate. But one by one, they all lost patience with me. As though their compassion were conditional and intended to gently but firmly bring me through to the other side, where I would start living up to my true potential.
Yah. That was never going to happen. None of them knew sh*t about TBI, none of them knew sh*t about the brain. And a part of me says “screw them all” with a bitter sneer, because their compassion just turned out to be fake.
One after another… concussion after concussion, TBI after TBI… one bad choice after another. But I’m still here. So yeah, screw them.
But as disappointed I am with my life, I do think that I have a responsibility to use the compassion gained by losing my identity to siezure epileptus/coma state. Compassion and empathy are so desperately needed in these times. I cannot waste these byproducts of TBI and PTSD. Aside from the high level anxiety and depression, I feel very brave and strong in a way that I never gave myself credit for and with others yelling in my ear to “wake up” or “schizo” and me not even getting that, but knowing on some level I was the scorn of those around me. Maybe that is an added bonus of surviving, I know the truth and it is good enough for me. I will die knowing I did my best when they thought I was squandering. God bless.
And here is the key — the gold at the bottom of the bucket of mud — compassion and empathy and the ability to reach out to others and help. All the experts in the world are not going to make the world a better place, a more compassionate place, a better informed place. That can only happen through the efforts of everyone “on the ground” who is in the trenches of human experience, day in and day out. I, too, feel a responsibility to use the compassion I’ve gained — and yes, is so desperately needed. I can still contribute, in my “partial-ized” state… my many-times-fractured, many-times-healed state of mind and body.
I too have known what it’s like to have people yelling “wake up” and “crazy” in my ear — so loud, it was painful. People close to me, who were supposed to love me. People who were supposed to be my friends. And I also know what it’s like to not get that — it was just yelling to me, and it took me a little while to figure out what they were really saying, and why.
Yelling at someone who lives with a brain injury will literally not do any good (so why do people do it?).
In the end, it’s the truth that matters. The truth of our experience, the trust we have for ourselves. Finding the value in our difficulties, and offering a helping hand to others. These days, we have greater ability than ever before, to make a positive difference in the world, and even if we think we can’t — I can promise you that you really can. Every interaction we have with others gives us a chance to make a positive difference of some kind. It may only be inside our own heads. It may even be a “fabulous fake”. But so long as we don’t cause harm to others or ourselves, there is always a chance that our words and our work will matter in ways that we never fully understand.
And with that, I wish you a very happy Friday. Thank you luka for sharing what you wrote.
Be well, each and every one of you.
Somebody found their way to this blog by searching for this, the other day.
I think that problems sequencing — getting things in order — can cause you to not understand what others are saying. The words get turned around, and they can sound jumbled up.
Also, being distractable can cause you to miss parts of what people are saying.
I don’t know if there’s one exact specific cause for this, but I can relate. Years ago, I was in an automobile accident that shook me up pretty badly — mostly physically. I got t-boned on the driver’s side by a traveling salesman who was late for an appointment. For days after that, I could not understand what people were saying to me. It really threw me off. All of a sudden, I couldn’t understand what people were saying to me. At all.
So, I quit the job I was at and decided to make a career of drinking. That didn’t sit right with my spouse at the time (we parted ways over 25 years ago). But it was fine with me.
Other times I’ve had trouble understanding people after other accidents, and I suspect that some of the times that my parents got the angriest at me, when I was a kid, was when I was actually struggling to understand what people were saying to me, but I was coming across as contrary and disobedient.
It really sucks, being punished for something you cannot control. Something that’s not your fault.
But it happens all the time.
Anyway, it’s been a long week. It’s time to relax and get ready for a long night’s sleep.
Yesterday was a long friggin’ day. I had my MRI at 7:30 a.m., to get it out of the way. It was fine. It was in one of those mobile units, which I suppose are wonders of modern science, but was still basically an MRI lab in a truck. It was fine. Not exemplary, just fine. The technician doing the work was in a mood, and they were just cranking out patients at a brisk clip. They had a bit of a problem with getting the IV in me, which wasn’t my favorite thing. The other weird thing was, I couldn’t feel the saline they put in, or the contrast agent when it went in. The first time I had it done in 2009, I felt everything. But yesterday I couldn’t feel any of it, past the iv going in.
Those kinds of things are exhausting for me, because I have to work really hard to keep still. I tend to twitch and tic involuntarily at times, so I have to really focus on keeping relaxed and still. By the end of the hour, I was beat, and I had some difficulty getting on my feet and walking away. It was a pretty involved brain MRI, and the equipment wasn’t exactly top-notch.
The good thing is, I got a copy of it all right afterwards. How cool is that?! It gives me a chance to study my brain before I go to the doctor. Of course, if I find anything amiss, it could throw me for a loop, but I’d rather be thrown for a loop in the comfort and privacy of my own home, than in a doctor’s office.
Anyway, the MRI hadn’t been read and annotated by someone who knows what they’re looking at, so I didn’t really have any points of comparison to go by.
I did pop the CD in my computer last night and take a look. I found one image that looked like I had a bunch of microbleeds going on. There were all these little clear dark spots speckled throughout my brain. I Googled them and found similar pictures of MRIs of people who had microbleeds. That concerned me a bit. But when I looked at the other images, there was no sign of those same dots, so I’m probably not reading it right. Also, someone told me back in 2009 that those are actually blood vessels, which makes it good to see them.
It’s always nice to know you’re getting blood to your brain.
So, I have the disk, and I have my 2009 disk. I pulled them up side-by-side yesterday to compare how my brain looks. The problem is, different software is used to view the imagery from different years, so I don’t have a simple point of comparison. Also, the way the files are organized doesn’t make sense in the new one.
Although… I could try copying the files into BOTH software, and look at both years in the same program. I’m not sure that would work, because they appear to be different formats. But that could be confusion on my part.
I hope that works, because I really want to be able to see what’s what.
Just from an initial cursory look, it appears that
A) My pineal cyst looks bigger than last time. I’ll have to wait till the MRI gets read and annotated (and then I’ll request another copy with the radiologist’s notes in it).
B) My brain looks a little smaller than last time. There seems to be more space between my brain tissue and the inside of my skull, and my brain isn’t smushed up against my skull like in 2009. There’s more clearance, and there’s also more definition between the different folds (I think they’re called sulci). I don’t know what that means. I’ve seen pictures of people whose brains have shrunken — a lot — and it’s a little freaky. On the other hand, if I’m losing certain white matter or grey matter, there may be a way to beef them back up. I know that regular meditation increases gray matter — it’s been documented. So, that’s fairly straightforward, I think. Also, certain types of things will actually shrink your brain — depression and stress, for instance.
Anyway, it’s impossible to say what the deal is with me. I’m not an MD or a radiologist, and who knows what the deal is.
The neuro is supposed to call me with the results, so we’ll see. I have no idea when that will be. I guess no news is good news.
In the meantime, I’ll get my systems together, I’ll spend some time this weekend looking at my MRIs, and I’ll see what I can find about fixing whatever I can.
Oh, as a side note, I am not all that impressed by the quality of the imaging taken in the back of the truck. Maybe it’s the type of MRI I got, but the images are not as clear, they don’t have the same level of detail as the 2009 ones, and some of them look “smudged”. It could be because I may have moved, but there is absolutely no smudging in the 2009 MRI, and I was in worse shape then, than I am now.
At least, I think I was…
Anyway, if I ever get that done again, I’m going to a proper hospital — preferably the one I went to before — to get this done. If I’m going to have heavy metals put into me intravenously, I’d better get some damned good imaging out of it in return.
More to come.