The More You Know…

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I’ve started substitute teaching. You probably remember crusty, old geezers teaching your class when one of your teachers was gone. These fossils were fond of telling students that they don’t know what hard work is, that they had to recite the pledge of allegiance in Greek and had to learn math with an abacus.

 

Whatever the case, there was always the assumption that, like teaching vampires who only came out during the school day, subs didn’t have an everyday normal life; when the school day was over they’d retreat to the school basement to read the textbooks for enjoyment before using them as a bed to sleep on until they were called to action again.

 

My point is that, with a single day substitute, there isn’t really a chance to get to know the sub.

 

I typically sub at the school where I once taught and assisted librarily, so I know most of the teachers and they know of my condition. Given enough notice, I’ll offer to give a presentation to the kiddos about me. This way the teacher doesn’t have to prepare as much and the students get first-hand knowledge of why I am the way I am. I’ve posted a version of this presentation before (LINK), but it was a raggedy old PowerPoint.

 

AND THEN…last summer – I went to a writer’s conference to pitch my memoir. I wanted to stand out, so I put together a presentation. I had just given the students a crash course in PowerPoint presentations and Prezi, so I thought I’d give that a try. I didn’t get a book deal >:(, but my presentation was pretty sweet. Find it HERE

 

AND THEN…a new school year started and the sub jobs came pouring in. So far, I’ve presented to about 250 seventh graders, most of the eighth graders saw it last year.

 

AND THEN…my younger sister, a Latin teacher (She teaches Latin, she’s not a teacher who is Latin, no one is or really has been since the Roman empire), asked me to come talk to one of her classes. I thought that this nexus of presentation opportunities called for a revamped presentation.

 

AND THEN…I combined the raggedy PowerPoint with the fresh, shiny Prezi to create a PreziPoint (PowerPrezi?). The svelte can be viewed in all its smoothly transitioning glory HERE. Or, for your convenience, I’ve reproduced the presentation here in slideshow form.

 

AND THEN…actually, ‘AND THEN…’ doesn’t work here, but I’m nothing if not consistent, the frames with a 🌟 in the lower right corner were adapted from the original PowerPoint. This means that the ones without a star make up the original Prezi.

 

AND THEN… If you don’t notice, apart from the book excerpts, it rhymes! Isn’t that delicious?

 

AND THEN…FIN

 

AND THEN…@JarrettLWilson

 

A Picture is Worth a Thousand…Pictures…

All Done

All Done…or 93 pictures if you’re the GIF above. By that count, if a picture is truly worth 1,000 words, that GIF is a tidy package of 93,000 words. Add to that the words you’re reading, and you have the world’s longest blog post. Honestly, I almost could’ve written 93,000 words in the time it took to make this GIF.

While I explain what it is, I’ll explain how it was made. I have the MRI images for most of my scans, in total I found/used eight sets of scans. Then, I made some pictures with my webcam of my profile and the top of my freakishly large head. If my math is correct, that makes 8+1 = 9 sets of images. Each set has roughly 10 pictures – including multiples of the original and duplicates of the fading shots. The sequence of the scans is chronological (For instance, a scan from 2010 would come after a scan from 2009, a scan done in May of some year will come before a scan…scanned in September of that same year…And so on).

The images are labeled with the reason for and date of the scan. I’d only point out the first scan from May, 2009 showing a big blob of white stuff just below the very center of my brain profile and slightly off center looking at the top. It’s almost as if someone tried to white it out. Really, it’s blood, the doctor injects you with the air from inside a blacklight, then your blood glows white.

The magnetic manipulation of the various cells and particles that form a mass called “Jarrett” (Magnetic), and the clicking and knocking noises (Resonance) labored to produce the this Image a few days after the hemorrhage.

The magnets and sounds continued their unlikely coupling through my skull on August 15, 2016, one day before my appointment with my neurosurgeon (I verbally sparred with both the doctor’s office and the insurance company for a month and had to reschedule twice, but that’s a different story altogether).

On the last MRI image, notice all the white out has been removed. When looking down from the top of my head, the “cavern” that the cavernous malformation called home is still a dark hole. I can only speculate that this is why I forget stuff almost as quickly as it pops into my head, it gets sucked into this vortex of blackest black, of darkest dark, of ebon opacity, of obsidian obscurity, etc.

Anyway, this GIF sums up seven years of the physiological side of brain injury recovery. I’ll stop writing now as this post has now reached a staggering 93,443 words.

This is all to say that my latest scans show no activity, and my recovery continues.

FIN (93,460 words if counting the number)

@JarrettLWilson (93,468)

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 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 a 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

 

 

Finding Direction (literally and figuratively)

Please excuse my recent absence from contributing to this blog. You see, this entry is the 129th post to this blog and 1+2+9=12. The 12th letter is L. L is the Roman numeral for 50, therefore I had to wait 50 days (give or take) to post again.

Truthfully, I’ve had a lull in my desire to write. My muse has been elusive (emusive?), but I still like to put words together in a meaningful fashion.

How am I to proceed without inspiration? If inspiration won’t come to me, I’ll go to it and force it to do my bidding. I will be inspired by the word itself. By that I mean that I’ll think of a topic relevant to my recent goings on that starts with ‘I’ and stew (mmm…stew) on that topic until I can’t stew (mmm…stew) no mo’.

After that, I’ll move on to ‘N’ and wax eloquently. After ‘N’ comes ‘S’, and so on in that fashion until I’m I.N.S.P.I.R.E.D.

That said, I’ll begin with ‘I’. I’m reluctant to discuss this, for fear that something will happen to spite this trend, but this being a blog about my brain, I have to report that there is nothing to report. In other words, the trouble spot in my head has been INACTIVE. This is due in no small part to the brainstem cavernoma resection performed by Dr. Jonathan White almost five years ago (read more HERE and HERE).

Fortunately, I only had one cavernoma (more info about this little evil thing HERE and HERE). There are people out there with more than a few of these dastardly raspberries in their heads. There’s a faint possibility that mine will grow back, that’s why I’m happy to report that nothing is going on.

Inactive is the exact opposite of my NON-STOP attitude toward recovery. My advice to anyone faced with a major life change is to go go go. Things are different now yes, but when you stop, you let the life change beat you (Jarrett ain’t gonna get beat so easily).

For instance, even though I still try to talk myself out of going EVERY time, I go to the gym and work out/therapize myself at last twice a week. I wake up super early to prepare for work. Sleeping has become a necessary evil. I don’t enjoy it like I used to; I only do it because my body tells me to. If I could live without sleep, I would. Also, my daughter never stops, so I have to keep moving to keep up with her (more about her later).

On the topic of movement and direction, I’ll move to ‘S’ and tell you about the anomaly of SOUTHWEST. A while back, I had to replace the battery in my car. Being without juice for a brief period, the compass in my car reset. After not calibrating it for a few weeks, the car did it itself. I’m not sure if the car was playing a joke on me, I live near a magnetic anomaly or my car just doesn’t understand that there are four directions, but no matter which way I drove, I was going southwest.

Therefore, I’d leave for work in the morning going southwest. I’d turn left and head southwest for two miles. Then I’d turn right and drive southwest for about three miles…I think you get the point.

In essence, if you were to ask my car for directions, they might go something like this – “start out by going southwest, after you get to the third stoplight, turn and go southwest until you get to an overpass, then do a U-turn and drive southwest for half a mile and you’ll see the donut shop to your right (southwest).

Ok, this is fun, one more – the GPS on my phone and my car discuss directions. My phone says, “head north for about two miles. Then you’ll see the exit for HW 56,  take a right, and head east for three miles, at the second stoplight go north. Go straight through next light, then turn left and park by the north gym to get Jarrett to work.”

My car would repeat these directions back, “head southwest for about two miles. Then I’ll see the exit for HW 56,  take a right, and head southwest for three miles, at the second stoplight go southwest. Go southwest through next light, then turn left and park by the southwest gym to get Jarrett to work.”

My car has since expanded its horizons and embraced all four directions. During that time though, giving directions was easy. “How do I get to X?” I’d chuckle and say, “Just go southwest, silly!”

This entry is getting overlong. Therefore, ‘P’ will stand for PATIENCE. You see, you’ll have to patiently await the rest of the list. I will continue to be INSPIRED on my next entry (a few weeks).

Until then, stay busy and head southwest, unless you need to go southwest.

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

Tag Blog Finale, or Is It?

Tags I still have left: Botox  causality cavernoma  Conditions and Diseases Dog  Health Life Alert Magnetic resonance imaging Medicine  OWFI Recreation  Satan Shopping Skylander spasticity sporks tattoos TBI  the big lebowski  Trauma and Injuries TRILS

“Wait, yoo don’t nyeed to get to da choppah. I’m a vyizerd. I can use myagic to zap yoo dehr.” Said Schwarzenegger apologetically.

“Then why’d you throw me?” Asked Zumba angrily.

“I wanted to shout GET TO DA CHOPPAH!”

Zumba huffed, “That’s just silly. Can we get going please?”

*ZAM* Just as he got the last word out he saw a bright flash of light and heard a loud crack. His feet came out from under him, he fell and smacked his head on a concrete sidewalk where his front lawn used to be.

Zumba and Mr. T were standing in front of a run-down Denny’s.

Zumba stood up, rubbed the back of his head… I’ll finish the rest of the story on Saturday, promise.

Tag Blog, Part Eye Eye

…Just as Bender was telling Fry to bite his shiny metal ass, there was a knock at the door and the sound of someone dry heaving.

 

“Come in!” Shouted Zumba.

 

Schwarzenegger walked in, bumping his gratuitously tall hat on the doorway.

 

Mr.T followed meekly behind him, one hand wrapped around a bucket, the other holding his stomach. His eyes were watery and very bloodshot.

 

Zuma stuck out a hand, “It’s an honor to meet you Mr. T.”

 

Mr. T’s cheeks puffed out, face turned green and quickly lowered his head into the bucket, “BWAAAAHHH!”

 

Mr.T heaved once more then stuck his hand out.

 

“Mistah T is getting vyorse by da minute. If we don’t hurry he might hyaf a brain heemrage and need brain surgery.” Schwarzenegger said grimly.

 

Mr. T pulled his head out of the bucket, “I pity da foo who needs brain surgery – they go through yerrs of physical therrapy.”

 

“Yes, nyeurosyurgery is sometheeng to avoid if yoo can.” Offered Schwarzenegger.

 

Mr.T started throwing up again. Schwarzenegger grabbed Zumba, “Aw yoo ready to go? A helicoptah eee waiting for yoo.”

 

“I’d like to finish my orange juice first if you don’t mind.”

Schwarzenegger flung him towards the sidewalk in front of his home and yelled, “I do mind! Now RUN! GET TO DA CHOPPAH!

OY! This story is running away from me, but I like where it’s going. Furthermore, I’m so busy that I’m contemplating giving up sleep. I’ve already given up eating and I’m fine; the purple leprechaun with the voice of Sean Connery assures me that I don’t need sleep either.

The LepreSean
The LepreSean

I told my neighbor about “LepreSean” and he said that I was hallucinating, that I should eat. I told LepreSean about this and said, “Thish ish intolerable…”I didn’t catch the rest because I passed out.

 

Anyway, my point is that I hope to have this epic tale of vomiting and the Rocky Mountain Aztec Gods tomorrow. Stay tuned!

@JarrettLWilson

Jarrett = Four Years Old

Hello, Internet!

Welcome to a very special edition of this blog (I know I say that a lot, but this one is more specialer, I promise).

Today is my “rebirthday”; it was on this day in that foul year of our Lord, 2009, that I underwent brain surgery. According to my calculator, that makes me four years old.

To commemorate this day I thought I’d list four positives I’ve experienced in the last four years –

1. Parking: I’ve a handicapped placard – I’ve found that the real advantage to having this blue piece of plastic is not so much parking closer, but narrowing the selection of parking places.

You see, most of you chumps have to drive around the whole parking lot to find a space; I need only check the front few spots.

Moreover, you’re more likely to get stuck behind that assclown that plugs up a row to wait for a spot (if you’re one of these people, I hate you).

Occasionally, someone will swoop in and take a spot before me. I find myself sizing this person up – Are they really handicapped? I think he/she’s just using his/her grandma’s placard.

I’m starting to sound hateful, let’s move on…

2. Helpful people: I often get asked if I need help with this or that. Writing about this makes me want to redact my previous comment about “you chumps”. But I don’t want to change it, so just erase it from your mind like so much Men in Black flashing phallus thingy.

Speaking of Men in Black, a fella that looked just like Will Smith came to help me fight off some aliens that were trying to steal my cheese grater.

I jest. He actually looked more like Puff Daddy (or P. Diddy, whatever he goes by these days).

Back to the point, seeing a person hold up a row in a  parking lot gets me thinking that people are self-centered, then a nice young lady asks if I need help carrying a large box to my car and shatters that perception.

3. New friends: I’ve met some pretty awesome people that I wouldn’t otherwise know. I’ve been lucky to have very lucky to work with very knowledgeable, caring therapists – I feel so honored to have met these people, I’ll attempt to name them all –

  • Emily x2 (OT, PY)

  • Laura (OT)

  • Heidi (PT)

  • Steve (PT)

  • Samara (PT)

  • DJ (PT)

  • Jennifer x3 (OT, OT, speech therapist)

  • Elizabeth (OT)

  • Leslie x2 (PT, speech therapist)

  • Leslynn (speech therapist)

  • That red headed (OT) whose name I forgot

  • That blonde (speech therapist) whose name I forgot

  • Kenya (speech therapist)

  • Paula (counselor)

  • Joni (PT)

  • Bonnie (PT)

I can’t think of anymore. If I forgot someone, I’m truly sorry. Wait, I’d also like to mention Sandy, my driver from my days at Pate. A very heartfelt and genuine thank you to you all!

4. Continuous possibility for improvement: The medical community says the optimum window for recovery from a brain injury is 18 months or so.

That same community also endorsed the use of leeches to suck out sickness, I can and will continue to improve.

I don’t make improvements as quickly and dramatically (dramatiquickly?) as I once did, but I’m certain that one day I’ll be able to do many of the things I once did (if not, at least I’ll look good as I fail 🙂 ).

So, not only is the being alive a nice part of waking up, but I also get to face each day with the possibility that I will finally (insert activity) again.

There you have it, folks! Having a TBI is no bueno, but there are some perks.

 

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!