Doctor Pillow…Talk

The universe has spoken to me once again (for previous occurrences describing words descending upon me from the totality of existence, read HERE and HERE). I’ve experienced a singularity of my present and the experiences HERE chronicled.

You see, I got a comment on the above linked post from a woman whose husband has sustained a brain injury and is contemplating having a Baclofen pump “installed” (for a compendium of my posts concerning the Baclofen pump, direct the graphical representation of your mouse (i.e. “cursor”) HERE and apply pressure to the left button on said mouse). It is to these good people, that I dedicate this entry.

Listen, the battery on my pump was near death, so I had to have the whole pump replaced.

This I did, or rather had done, two days ago. There are a few remarkable occurrences that I would like to relate to you, dear reader.

1.          This first point is not particularly remarkable compared to the other two, but deserves to be mentioned – the procedure was performed by the fabulous Dr. Deborah Fisher. She does surgery, pump refills, Botox injections and pain management, all with a very cool South African accent. She is, without a doubt, one of the good ones and one of my favorite people.

2.          The name of the anesthesiologist was, I sh*t you not, Dr. Pillow. Put another way, the man whose responsibility it was to put me to sleep was named “Dr. Pillow”. Dr. Pillow had an assistant named Rip Van Blanket*…twas the darnedest thing that team Pillow/Blanket should manage my sleepy time…

Syringe Doc Pillow Head

3.          True to their names, the Pillow/Blanket duo had me so stupefied that, when I woke up in the recovery room, I could swear I was in a staging area, awaiting the procedure. I was nearly set off when this blue flaming nurse asked me if I wanted something to drink, I had to check myself because I was indignant that this guy was trying to thwart this procedure that I worked so hard to set up by offering me a drink minutes before it was to be performed.

The hoops I had to jump through to get this operation scheduled is a saga worthy of its own post. Moreover, my recovery from this procedure has been much smoother than when I got the first pump. For next time, I’ll give a full summary/timeline of the major events associated with the pump.

That the words on this website have reached but a few people is reason enough to keep it up.

 

FIN

 

@JarrettLWilson

 

*This name is total bullsh*t, his real name was “Todd” or “Bill” or some other such name common to a suburban, middle class white male. He didn’t say his last name, so for purposes of this blog let’s say his last name was “Valium”.

EUREKA! And some OT

Turns out, the pump was not to blame for my recent neuro woes (neurwoes?) I’m not totally convinced that the pump isn’t somehow involved, but it appears that I had a small bleed at my resection site in the Pons region of the brainstem.

some of the symptoms (the excruciating pain in my ass muscles, the temperature fluctuations on random areas of my body,  and the increase in spasticity…

ITEM! I’ve just now (unless you read this after 7:23 on Friday, February 13th. Then it’s the date/time you’re reading this minus the above mentioned date/time) found the cause of the hemorrhage, methinks.

You see, I was about to mention increase in blood pressure after “increase in spasticity”. My blood pressure shot way up.  This probably aggravated the small bit of cavernoma, causing it to bleed ever so slightly.

So let this be a lesson to you – if you do trunk rotations, DON’T let the catheter from your baclofen pump pop out of your spine. If it does, DON’T let your blood pressure spike. If that happens,  DON’T let the pressure get to your brainstem. If you DON’T heed any of these warnings, DO go to Zale Lipshy University Hospital,  ask for Dr.  Jonathan White and get on a low dose of ‘roids to reduce the swelling. Next, DO start with therapy exercises, because the ~18 month window of best recovery has officially opened.

You might try something like this –

Next,  be prepared to eat a LOT, because ‘roids make you ravenous!
FIN
@JarrettLWilson

Trunk Rotations can be Hazardous

…ln other news,  Jarrett Wilson managed to snap,  krinkle and/or pop the catheter of his baclofen pump at an intense workout on Monday.  He began to experience increased spasticity that night and ever more as the week went on. The initial suspicion was nuvigil withdrawal but after going bac…lofen  through the symptoms,  baclofen withdrawal seemed a more prudent diagnosis.  The first and most obvious sign of baclofen withdrawal is enhanced tremors and spasticity – the patient will shake as if his insides were some diabolical popcorn machine. Next,  the patient might start hallucinating. Our sources report that this symptom had been seen in Jarrett,. Let’s go to Chuck in the amusement park cafeteria for more details. Chuck: Thanks, Flo. The great and powerful writer of this blog wants me to tell the readers that he’s abandoning the news room bit – it started off pretty cute, but now is kinda like a turtle, slow with no discernible direction. I figure I’ll just be straight up, here are the facts –

As Flo mentioned, while doing some trunk rotations at the gym. I figured I’d add more weight that day, because that’s what you’re supposed to do at the gym and what’s the worst that can happen? As if the universe was listening, it replied by creating an unexpected pop in my abdomen and sending me into baclofen withdrawal. At work the next day, it was becoming harder and harder to control the tremors from my left leg. I started becoming concerned when having sudden temperatures changes in some isolated part of my body. I entertained the idea that the temperature and body part might symbolize someone’s attitude toward me. For instance, if my butt got really warm it’d mean somebody thought I was a hot piece of ass. If my shoulder went cold it was because someone thought I was unjustly ignoring him or her (i.e. getting the cold shoulder). I needed more period that something was amiss so I took my blood pressure. I’m glad I did, it was freakin high. I called my all things disability doctor, and she told me to go to the ER.

Within 20 minutes I’m in my principals hot rod headed to the ER. They got me in for a CT scan of my noodle and found nada – the ER doc prescribed something for anxiety and I was on my way.

The next day, PM/R doc and I puzzled over it – baclofen pump? Medication reaction? Another hemorrhage? Global warming? Not enough donuts in my diet? There were signs everywhere, but the answer was oh so elusive. Think of it like The DaVinci Code meets neurological disorders. In essence, we were looking for Da – Neuro Code. After that first meeting, there weren’t any dead bodies with clues written on them or ambiguous paintings to draw direction from, so we improvised, discussing symptoms and recent med changes. We decided that it was a complication caused by my skipping my nuvigil doses the weekend before. I would continue on nuvigil as usual and my hot ass wouldn’t be giving anymore cold shoulders.
After another day of tremors, temperature anomalies and high BP and a trip to the ER, it was back to the PM/R doc to reassess. The more we spoke on it, the more it pointed toward baclofen withdrawal, so she scheduled surgery the next day.

Turns out, we were right, the catheter leading from the pump to my spine had snapped. After replacing the catheter, my body decided to bleed a lot, there was concern that the blood would put too much pressure on my spine. Luckily, that fixed itself, however, I still had a leak – much the same as the great CSF flood of 2011 after the pump was first put in.

Listen, the brain and spinal cord are very particular about the amount of fluid they will sit in. If they sense that the amount of CSF is not just so, they demand that my head fill with an abundance of discomfort juice and that the discomfort juice should spread to my stomach and take the form of bile and partially digested food and exit out of my face portal with much heaving and dramatic bellowing.

To assuage all of these various fluids, a new fluid must be introduced as mediator, to “patch” things up if you will. Put simply, my blood is injected at the site of the leak and clots, sealing the leak.

A few hours after having this done, the discomfort juice was gone and the contents of my stomach would continue their course to exit out the correct portal. In fact, the improvement was so great that the Dr. decided to send me home that day.

That was two days ago, I’ve been holed up at my parents house resting since then. I hope to return to work later this week or early next week.

I’ll check back after I know more. FIN

@JarrettLWilson

How Standardized testing contributes to Global Warming and Other Curiosities

INSPIRATION! I found you! It was hiding in the vast tangled forest of the rules and regulations that is standardized testing.

You see, I work in a middle school and state testing days are quite an ordeal. The only comparison I can think to make is what a building would have to go through to prepare to receive the president (a lame comparison, I know. I’m still shaking the rust of my inspiration gland).

EVERYTHING is considered a threat (to test security), every corner is monitored by highly trained personnel (i.e. the next name on the alphabetized staff roster as duties are assigned), and the event is catered (insofar as you can say that school lunch is a catered affair). My duty was predetermined at conception.

Listen, I’m a dude. Society dictates that I potty in a room where only dudes are allowed. Rumor has it that there are similar rooms for chicks, but I’ve never been in one. During state testing, the restrooms have to be monitored. The students like to have think tanks after going potty. Such a clandestine rendezvous might cause a student to score a little higher and help him or her land a job that he/she is not qualified for (before discussing it in the bathroom, he/she thought the square root of 64 was 116, or that George Washington discovered America, or something).

Such a forbidden meeting might go like this (it’s funnier if you imagine them speaking in British accents): “The answer to #4 is unequivocally option ‘C.'” Says George. Carl scoffs at this, replies “I’d put ‘C’ if I wanted to get it wrong!” Jim busts in and says, “Will one of you please hurry? I really need to go potty.” He then starts doing the potty hop on one leg. George and Carl, having agreed that the answer is actually ‘D’, have moved on to discussing the merits of multiple choice testing and are too engrossed in the subject to hear Jim’s urgent request to pee (peequest?). Just as they decide that short answer questions would be the best assessment tool, but too difficult to grade, Jim soils himself. Now Jim rushes to finish the test so he can go home to change his pants. He ends up failing the test, and repeats the grade. His self esteem is shot, he stops trying in school, and is forced to take a low paying job at an aerosol can factory. As we all know, aerosol cans deplete the ozone layer – contributing to global warming.

In effect, not monitoring the bathrooms during standardized testing contributes to global warming.

This brings us back to my conception. In order to prevent cheating, rousing discussions on testing methods, and global warming, the people who create and enforce standardized testing (Satan, Barbra Streisand, Rush Limbaugh, etc.) have decreed that all potties be monitored during standardized testing. As a male, it is altogether fitting and proper that I should do this.  Getting back to being I.N.S.P.I.R.E.D (part one HERE), ‘P’ will now stand for “potty monitor”.

In keeping with the topic of standardized testing, ‘I’ stands for “Irregularity”. This is a very common, yet much maligned term used for any aberration from testing procedures, which is pretty much everything.

For instance, I told a student to “knock it dead”, ‘it’ being the science test. Moments later an owl flew by and dropped a letter at my feet. It was addressed to “Test Defiler Wilson”. I opened it and it started screaming at me (sounded like Tom Cruise). It said, ” It was reported at 8:03:56am that you bade a student to ” knock it dead” in reference to a test. This is in direct violation of subsection ee of decree 17 of chapter 119 of section four of the third edition of the educator code, copied here for your convenience: Thou shalt not wish luck to any student the student to figuratively use violence between 8:02 and 8:07am. Examples: “knock it dead,” “kick it’s butt,” and “slay that puppy”. For this irregularity, we’re taking away your stapler. May God have mercy on your soul.”

I can’t give you an example of a real irregularity – that, in and of itself, would be an irregularity. However, I can tell you that ‘R’ stands for refill.

When I write the word ” refill”, you probably think of an icy cold beverage at your favorite local eatery. That is quite far from I’m talking about. I refer, of course, to going to the doctor to refill the pump in your abdomen with that sweet, sweet muscle relaxer called Baclofen – which is 1,000 times stronger than the oral stuff. If you’re unfamiliar with this process, I’ve provided some pictures for you. These shots capture the wide variety of emotions that surface during a refill (read the captions for more info).

Primary emotion - euphoria. I never learn, every time I go in for a refill, I think they're going fill it with Pepsi or something, so I'm very excited. But...
Reading the Pump. Primary emotion – euphoria. I never learn, every time I go in for a refill, I think they’re going fill it with Pepsi or something, so I’m very excited. But…
...then comes the dread of knowing that, even if they do fill it with Pepsi, I'm going to get poked. Primary emotion - dread
Dawning the Pump               …then comes the dread of knowing that, even if they do fill it with Pepsi, I’m going to get poked. Primary emotion – dread

 

Primary emotion - boredom. I've been stuck with A LOT of needles. I'm not bragging when I say that getting stuck with a needle is as routine as going potty.
Prepping for the Poke. Primary emotion – boredom. I’ve been stuck with A LOT of needles. I’m not bragging when I say that getting stuck with a needle is as routine as going potty.
The Stick. Primary emotion - rage. Like I said in the previous pic, getting poked doesn't bother me. If I recall, I was so upset on this particular occasion because they didn't have any "Where's Waldo" books in this exam room.
The Stick. Primary emotion – rage. Like I said in the previous pic, getting poked doesn’t bother me. If I recall, I was so upset on this particular occasion because they didn’t have any “Where’s Waldo” books in this exam room.
Sucking out the old stuff. Primary emotion - stunned sadness. The old Baclofen had been a part of me for a few months, now it's gone.
Sucking out the old stuff. Primary emotion – stunned sadness. The old Baclofen had been a part of me for a few months, now it’s gone.
Pumping in the new stuff. Primary emotion - contentment. I'm just about done and the medical assistant has gone to get the "Where's Waldo" books
Pumping in the new stuff. Primary emotion – contentment. I’m just about done and the medical assistant has gone to get the “Where’s Waldo” books

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

 

 

Medical Vernacular Spectacular!

Part of having a condition like mine is learning a lot of big words. I like big words and I like to write silly poems – seems reasonable to assume that I would double like a poem about big words. I haven’t written the poem yet, but I’m sure I’ll like like it. To that end, I’ll quit introducing and start writing the poem you’re about to read. One last note – I’m going to stick to a simple AABBCC rhyme scheme – Shakespeare I amn’t. I’m going to italicize the terms to set them apart.

The medical field uses words that are big and complex,

For instance, raising you for at the able is called dorsiflex(ion) :).

The above word is one of the many that end with I-O-N,

Proprioception is a word that I use often;

It’s a big word for knowing where your limbs are in space.

Circumduction is another I-O-N, it affects walking pace.

When the knee doesn’t want to bend, the leg swings;

If I’m not careful, I’ll start to kick things.

Yet another I-O-N is ambulation;

Or you could say “walking”, if you value concision

Walking is made more difficult by the symptoms of spasticity.

Incontinence is when you have trouble going pee-pee,

“Pee-pee” is a silly word for releasing fluid that is pent.

The fancy term for pooping is “bowel movement”.

There is also a tube for moving pee-pee and other fluids hither and thither,

The fancy word for this tube is catheter.

There’s an intrathecal catheter delivering medicine to my spine ,

The catheter carries medicine from a baclofen pump to help me feel fine.

At first, the needle caused my spine to leak,

But thanks to a blood patch twas fixed in about a week.

To get the blood for the blood patch, the nurses set a Mid line,

The needle went so deep into my arm, I felt like dying.

Medtronic is the company that makes my pump.

Ataxia, or loss of balance, makes it difficult to jump.

Seeing two of something is called double vision or diplopia.

Seeing two of something is called double vision or diplopia.

Dysphagia is one of the fanciest medical terms I know,

It’s easier just to say “it’s hard to swallow”.

Let’s not forget the word for constant muscle contraction,

Hypertonicity is the word given to this action

I owe this list of words to the Pons region of the brainstem,

Without having a major hemorrhage there. I wouldn’t have learned them

This concludes the list

Did you get the gist?

I know I left some off, but I’m happy with this list, short as it may be. I think I explained the meaning of the words pretty well, but here’s a list with definitions just in case –

Dorsiflexion: This is when a door opens – I jest. Quite simply, it’s bending your ankle so that your foot/toes goes up

Proprioception: Obviously this describes a professional at “priocepting”, and as we all know (right?), prioception is the ability to perceive of a Toyota Prius. Actually, it’s your perception of the relative position of some body part.

Circumduction: The Romans came up with this one. Circ is Latin for “Pringles” (they’ve been around for a while). Um is Latin (and every other language ever for “WTF?”). Duction translates to “talking with one’s mouth full”. In essence, when in Rome, it’s not cool to talk with a mouth full of Pringles. Truthfully, it’s when the leg swings outward because the knee won’t bend enough to clear the ground.

Ambulation: Walking

Spasticity: Tremors caused by constant muscle activity

Incontinence: When you’re not on a continent. Examples – swimming in the ocean, flying on a plane or exploring outer space. A less awesome and more truer answer is when you can’t pee

Bowel movement: Pooping (heh, poop)

Catheter: This one was adequately covered above – it’s just a tube

Baclofen pump: A hockey puck shaped machine that delivers sweet, sweet baclofen (muscle relaxer) to the spine

Blood patch: The use of blood to patch a leak in the spine. I asked them if they could just use tape. They laughed derisively and said we could, but then we won’t get to set a…

…Mid line; thereby IMPALING my right bicep to harvest blood from a deep vein

Medtronic: A science fictiony name for a company that makes baclofen pumps

Ataxia: The IRS’s answer to whether or not there’s a tax for some object. E.g. “Is there a tax for asking stupid questions?” IRS reply: “A tax, yeah.” That, or loss of balance.

Diplopia: This one means double vision, I don’t get it. When I think of the word “plop” I think of poop splashing into the toilet.

Dysphagia: Saying disparaging remarks to some named “Phagia” – she(?) will punch you in the throat and make it difficult to swallow.

Hypertonicity: Similar to “spasticity” – constant muscle contractions.

Pons: Latin for bridge due to its position between the cerebellum and the cerebrum on the brainstem (that sounded pretty scientifical, eh?)

Hemorrhage: Internal bleeding, which, when paired with the term above, can create everything above that. Basically, it’s at the bottom of everything (symbolic, no?)

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

Presenting – My…Presentation

I work at a middle school.

I’ve been employed there in some fashion for a number of years.

My first two years I taught 8th grade US history and coached boys’ athletics. The next year I taught 8th grade English and coached girls’ athletics.

At the end of that school year some blood vessels in my brain leaked like so much kiddie pool left to rot in the sun.

I taught 8th grade English for half of the next two school years. I came back the next school year as the assistant librarian and have filled that role for going on three years now.

Assuming my math is correct (2+1+.5+.5+3), I’ve been working there for 21,553 years – this raises a few questions.

Firstly, I’m only 32 years old. Secondly, the school has only been there for 40ish years. Let’s round that figure down to eight school years.

I do so enjoy working there and continuing to work with students. Thing is, I’m not like any of the other teachers/professionals in the school.

When I returned to teaching after the hemorrhage, I created a PowerPoint presentation about my condition to show to my class to prepare them for my uniqueness.

Recently, I had the opportunity to speak to the new seventh graders. I modified the presentation to fit my condition today. I thought I’d share it with you, the internet –

1

This is the title slide – note that it has the title written (in English, no less!) on it.

2

This slide is for a handout. The students were given the same graphic, but with blanks. In essence, they started with an empty brain and ended with a full one (symbolic, no?)

3

In the same fashion as the previous slide, the students filled in the blanks on the same graphic.

4

This slide is a pictorial representation (pictoriational?) of the functions of each lobe. For instance, the temporal lobe (orange) controls the instinct to swat things away from your ear (actually, that represents hearing), and the frontal lobe controls the confusion that comes from staring at gibberish on a sign post (actually, that represents planning).

5

Now we get to my contribution – you see, the seventh grade reading classes at the school where I work are covering non-fiction. They are reading Gifted Hands by Dr. Ben Carson – the brain surgeon that removed half of a girl’s brain. One of the teachers is a friend of mine and asked me to present my experience as a primer. The image in the slide is my brain (isn’t it beautiful?). The white dot in the middle is my cavernoma isn’t it (or rather, wasn’t it) ugly?

6

Not much to say about this slide that isn’t in the slide. I’ll just add that the symptoms listed are enough to get you a 20 minute helicopter ride.

7

Much like the image in the “My Brain Issues” slide – the head pictured is my head. My head is perfectly round and my brain has many different colors. I know what you’re thinking, “But Jarrett, there weren’t no color in the other image and your head ain’t perfectly round.”

I’ve a twofold reply to this comment. First of all, I was joking – that’s not my head. Secondly, you need to work on your grammar. Moving on, this one has info about the surgery. That fact weighed heavily in my decision to title the slide “The Surgery 9/2009.”

8

A few summers ago I went on a tour of a Nair factory – this happened to be the day that Gillette planned to sabotage the Nair factory. They set explosives…I’m tired of this explanation. It started off with promise, but now I hate it!

Truthfully, a few summers ago I wanted to see the scar, so I shaved my head.

9

This slide is linked to a file with moving pictures and sound! This “video” is about *drumroll* neuro-plasticity! A fancy term denoting the brain’s ability to form new connections.

10

This is a visual representation of how your brain thinks. For instance, you see a donut with your occipital lobe. That info shoots to your frontal lobe and activates your happy gland. Your happy gland shoots a message to your parietal lobe “GO GET THAT F’N DONUT!” Someone gets it before you can, so your temporal lobe tells you to break out your megaphone and shout obscenities at this person and threaten to call the police. This guy dressed a nearby napkin dispenser and wangs you in the Temple…

11

…That blow to the Temple gives you a TBI. Your brain rewires itself and finds an alternate route to your happy gland.

12

I included this slide to give the students an explanation as to why I sometimes shake when I speak and why I walk with a limp and hike up my left arm like so much Bob Dole. It also helps explain the little girl in the moving picture mentioned earlier. It also gave me a chance to…

14

…mention the painful treatments. One thing I’ve learned from working in a middle school is that, as much as the kids want to be treated as adults, they still love to hear about people getting poked with needles and meeting a real life cyborg.

13

I like to pepper in some humor here and there to make sure the kids are awake. When this slide appears, it’s accompanied by a very loud, obnoxious laugh.

15

I don’t really do any of these anymore, but I mention it because I did it for so long, and it drives home the point that I’ve had a long road.

16

In my mind, all of these will someday be replaced with “Painfully normal”. For purposes of this presentation, it gives the students an idea of what to expect when they see me.

17

It can be difficult to work around young people with my disabilities. Instead of hiding or pretending that I’m no different, I encourage the students to come talk to me if they have a question. I want to think that I’m an ambassador for the disabled. Hopefully, these students will apply what I’ve tried to teach them to others with disabilities.

I included the last bullet because I’ve had some students speak very loudly and very slowly to me. You see, they have to tell me their student ID number to check out a book. In previous years, a student or two would speak to me as if I was unable to type and listen at the same time.

18

I’m a pretty smart dude and I can be pretty creative, but I didn’t discover any of this and I didn’t make this sh*t up.

If there’s one thing I learned in college, it’s that Keystone Light is super cheap and tastes like weedkiller. If there’s a second thing I learned in college, it’s that plagiarism is bad (I remember a syllabus that said there’s a special place in hell for those that plagiarize).

We try to instill that fear into the students, so I model the proper citing of sources.

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

Two B minuses = A+ and the Pain Refrain

Sorry for the delay, I basically holed up in my apartment for a week to study for the second A+ certification exam – I passed with another B-! Now that I’m A+ certified, I can get on with my summer. I did so by swimming the day away with my kid.

That said, I was inspired to write this after a friend commented on my poem about medication. She called me a “tough cookie” (mmm…tough…oh wait…). I thought to myself that ain’t nothin! At that very moment, I conceived an idea for a poem. My head, being so impregnated with rhyming verbage birthed the following verse –

Medical procedures can hurt,

Notably with all the needles doctors insert.

The following words list some of my pains;

but despite the the hurt, I’ve made many gains.

Early on I was bound to a wheelchair,

now I walk freely from here to there.

One of the most painful procedures that comes to mind,

is when some nurses couldn’t find a vein and had to do a mid line.

They stuck a needle deep into my arm,

they finally found a vein from which to farm…

…the blood needed to patch a hole in my spine,

after that I felt fine!

Until the day came to remove the staples from my belly incision;

you see, I got an implant for a direct baclofen infusion.

I felt a small sting when each staple came out,

it’s a good thing I had painkillers, so I didn’t have to pout.

I raised a pretty big stink when a nurse placed an IV,

she stuck me several times before leaving it in the band of my arm, you see.

Whenever I’d bend my arm, the needle would stab and poke;

The pain I felt was very real, it weren’t no joke!

Speaking of poke, I frequently get 10 or more injections of botox;

the injections go anywhere from my arm to the place where I wear socks.

This list is certainly missing a few ouchies;

give me a break! I’ve had brain surgery, geez!

Medication Harmonization

With my condition, I’ve had to fight off a lot of ills.
Life is easier when you are given the right medicine,
I’ve had IVs and injections, but mostly pills.
Below is a list of some of the drugs I’ve taken.
I’m sure I’ve left more than a few off this tabulation,
The last four years I have played a kind of medication roulette.
The medications mentioned are from top of the head improvisation.
So as not to show bias, the meds are in order by alphabet –
 
To reduce spasticity I take Baclofen
Clonazapam  turned me into a zombie
When my poo got too hard, I took Coalase to soften
I took decadron to make my brain less swelly
A painkiller called Dilaudid filled me with glee
Fioricet rushed my headaches away
Thanks to Flomax, I filled the toilet with pee
Gabapentin didn’t keep the tremors at bay
Hydrocodone provided quick and easy pain relief
no more pain with morphine
Nuvigil keeps me awake and on task
Provigil worked ok until Nuvigil hit the scene
Ranitidine – you probably know it as Zantac
Calm the tremors with Requip
A spasticity med that didn’t work is called Tizanidine
Viibryd = no more frowny lip
With Zoloft, the sun always shines and the grass is ever green
I can’t make everything rhyme on this,
specifically, I speak of TBI is…
Throat is Bumfuzzled about Ingestion – It is not uncommon for TBI and stroke sufferers to develop dysphagia – Siberian for “confounded neck-hole”. I still have difficulty swallowing liquids without some getting into my windpipe.

The Magical Magic of Magic

The time has come for me to write another entry in my blog. If you are reading this then I’ve published this entry and you are reading it – you are probably aware of this, but I told you anyway.

In medical news, Jarrett has been scheduled to undergo a dye study. This is a simple procedure where the patient stares at a series of shirts that have been tie-dyed and describes them (similar to a Rorschach test). This could be as simple as describing the color (for instance, “blue”) to going into great detail about your feelings (for instance, “this shirt makes me feel blue”). Raise your hand if you believed that. Now put your hand down, no one can see you, weirdo. Here is what I understand a dye test to be – First, some background: in my abdomen lives a hockey puck. This hockey puck is connected to a tube that leads to my spine. The hockey puck, by some process that is best described as magic, transmits magic juice to my spine via that tube. The people that dress like doctors and use big doctor words (i.e. “magic tube”, “magic hockey puck” and “magic juice” and so on), they tell me that I might possibly have a kink in the magic tube that leads from the magic hockey puck to my spine, thereby obstructing the flow of magic juice. If this is the case, I blame that dark wizard I saw driving past me in a Daewoo the other day (I don’t know his name, for purposes of this blog I’ll call him “Stephen”. Aside: if your name is Stephen and I’ve offended you, I apologize, all the Stephens I’ve known have been good people with the exception of the Daewoo driving dark wizard). Back to the point, if there is a kink in the magic tube, they’ll have to use surgery magic to replace the magic tube with another more magical (magicaler?) tube. If no kink- I will continue to receive a dose of Baclofen that would turn an elephant’s legs to Jello.

In other news, Jarrett is going to get serious for a short time (not long, I promise). I make a lot of jokes, I like to laugh. I suppose I could let this condition defeat me – in many ways, it has. The one thing I can do to say “up yours” to my situation is to keep laughing and think happy thoughts. These aren’t easy to do. There are times when I want to crawl out of my own skin and, if only for one moment, experience life as I once did. The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that the “old Jarrett” is ready to emerge, but I’ve forgotten how to be that guy – I’ve been locked inside this stiff, clumsy body for three years now.
I do tend to dwell on the things I can’t do and get angry when I see a dad effortlessly tossing his kid into the pool. However, at the end of the day, I’m thankful to be alive to watch my daughter grow up and I’m hopeful that one day “old Jarrett” will emerge and I will know how to greet him.

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

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