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

Stuff and Junk

Hey there buckaroos and buckaroodettes! I’ll skip the usual “I haven’t posted recently because…” and just say “better late than never!” Much has transpired since last I “flogged” you –

Professionally: I am once again gainfully employed as a library assistant at the Piner library. I very much enjoy it – it’s quiet, I get to leave work at work, and I get to organize and categorize all day! My inner bureaucrat is taken care of 🙂

Medically: I am now part machine (that’s right, I was all man before). I wear a black helmet, breathe loudly and sound like James Earl Jones and enjoy pinching my fingers together to choke strangers (I’m a RIOT at restaurants! I make people think they’re choking on alfalfa sprouts!)… But seriously YOU DON’T KNOW THE POWER OF THE DARK SIDE!!! Sorry, that just sorta pops out every now and again. Long story longer and more convoluted – YOU DON’T KNOW THE POWER OF THE DARK SIDE!!! Err… Lets assume you do know the power of there dark side so we can move on (for the record, it’s eh).

Listen: I had a pump implanted in my abdomen (left side), connected to a tube leading to my spine. This pump releases Baclofen (muscle relaxer/ joy juice) directly into my spine. Take that blood brain barrier!… I’m back! You may continue reading. Bet you didn’t even know I was gone! Being away doing chores as I just was, I’ve decided that I’d like to address one or two things not related to my brain. I will call these reflections “Prosaic Musings and Stuff” or PMS for short. Firstly, why is it that when you (or maybe it only happens to me? Do comment.) take a full trashbag out of your trash can, another empty bag doesn’t magically appear in its place? I come back to throw some sh.. away but there aren’t no bag! As if that’s not bad enough I have to put a new one in! It’s like a gift that keeps on giving, only it’s bad. It’s an “ungift”.
I have to go to bed now, next topic – Sunchips and the weirdo that names them (i.e. “harvest cheddar” how does one harvest cheddar? Doesn’t that imply that you have to grow cheddar? Even if that were possible, where does one acquire cheddar seeds?)…to be continued.

Miclog #567

Miclog #s 5, 6 & 7: I wrote 5 & 6 about a month ago 7 will be more updated, to simplify things, I will call this whole thing miclog #567, as I will probably never get that high. I am going to copy and paste 5, 6 & 7. Why? Because I can. Here we go –
Microg #5 (“Inception”) – After seeing the Hollywood feature with Leonardo Dicaprio, I thought to myself, “the landscape of my mind is a lot like Paris, and I would love to have Leo Dicaprio tinkering around in there.” Unfortunately, Leo was not available and dream invasion doesn’t exist *sigh*…guess I’ll keep dreaming of the day when Leo comes to sedate me and invade my dreams. The only alternative to that dream within a dream is to have a hypnotherapist “incept” the idea that it is no longer necessary for me to instruct my left arm to take action, the way you command your butt-cheeks to clinch when you need to abstain from flatulence at the dinner table. Listen, I waste an excessive amount of “CRAM” (Cognitive Random Access Memory), thinking about moving/manipulating my left arm/hand; resources that should be devoted to ending world hunger or pondering the age old question: Diamond Dave or Sammy Hagar? Actually, I have already found the answers to both – magic and Diamond Dave (period). I need more energy to anticipate the needs of my darling daughter and her tyrannical compulsions for juice and pancakes. To reprogram my noodle to devote a reasonable amount of “CRAM” to the critical tasks outlined above, I have enlisted the services of a hypnotist. At this point, I have done pretty much everything that modern medical science has to offer, why not try a little hocus pocus? To my surprise, the mind can overcome some daunting hurdles when properly channeled. I wrote this a month ago and like anybody (brain injured or knee injured or emotionally injured) I have lost my train of thought…more on my actual hypnosis is forthcoming, stay tuned!

Miclog #6 (“conception”): I am throwing out the name “Microg” because ‘blog’ is not fairly represented. Therefore, the ‘r’ is to be dropped in favor of an ‘l’, bringing it closer to the word ‘blog’. As a promoter of equal rights, the change makes me happy; I like to be happy : ) With that, I give you the first “Miclog”, Micro-blog #6 –
It seems that hypnosis works, at least for a little while; until my brain realizes it’s been hoodwinked, at which point the “CRAM” will again be dominated by my occupational therapist asking me, ”why aren’t you using your left hand?” I am by no means back to a point where I can puppeteer (as many of you know,I LOVE puppeteering, if you didn’t know that we’re not friends anymore, shame on you!), my left arm now acts more of its own accord, still clumsy and slow, but now my mind has more energy to devote to the important things, such as – birth certificate issues concerning our president and the royal wedding.

Miclog #7 (” No Country for Big Needles”): At this moment (5:25pm, Wednesday the 8th of June) – if you read it later, I’ll probably be getting Q a “happy juice”
or swinging her in the backyard – I am sitting up in a hospital bed at Zale Lipshy in Dallas. A little after the noon o’clock hour, a doctor jabbed me in the spine with two needles(!), the first to numb the area, and the second to pump in that sweet muscle relaxer known as baclofen. Other than fulfilling a lifelong desire to get not one, but two shots in my spine, the goal was to see how my left leg would react to a direct shot of baclofen. This ” baclofen trial” as it is called, was deemed a success in so far as it significantly reduced my tremors and improved my gait (no more circumduction or hyperextension, but I drag my foot). All this means I am eligible for pump surgery where they surgically implant a chair on my back where a doctor injects baclofen into my spine every 4-6 hours…I asked the doctor how I’m supposed to sleep, he shrugged and said, “not my problem.” and now…page 2.
Although you won’t have to wait to read this, I must wait to write more owing to the need to potty, you’ll never know I’m gone. I’m back, which is evident by the fact that you are reading…I don’t know that I have anything else of substance…go Mavs and keep fighting the good fight, Lynn! Ciao.

@JarrettLWilson

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