My latest battle with the after effects of a series of taumatic brain incidents (ruptured blood vessel in a brain tumor, subsequent surgery to remove tumor, 4 tonic-clonic seizures) is a decline in my ability to think deductively, analytically, quantitatively or sequentially and a tendency to think about everything in terms of metaphors, analogies or pictures. In searching for something that I couldn’t find , I came across this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DachRQNBGP8&feature=related that I believe expresses the real meaning of some very common words. I also don’t think that you have to live in a metaphoric world to appreciate its message. Grab a Kleenex box before watching it. Some of the pictures will make you laugh, others will make you cry. But that’s life.
Relationship between patient and caregiver: pas a deux
In a previous post I suggested that the relationship between a patient and caregiver must be a pas a deux, a dance for two. If any dance for two is going to work, the pair must move and work together, even though each individual has his or her own responsibilities. In a pas a deux one individual must follow the lead of the other, generally in the relationship between the patient and caregiver, the caregiver will provide leadership.The patient must have confidence in and respect the leadership provided by the caregiver. However, the caregiver must read carefully the signs from the patient and have the courage to make any adjustments must be made. The patient needs to be aware of where the pair is going and what they are doing. If the patient detects deviations from the destination or the route, the patient must be ready to communicate this with the caregiver. If this pair is to work well together, they will find that it is necessary to practice. A good pas a deux is not a once and done event.
Gazing into the Abyss – a Deux
The title of this posting is my latest attempt at using a double entendre (a word or phrase with two meanings). It is also an attempt to get back to my former self. As I conceived the idea for this posting, I was well aware of the concept of a word with two meanings. I used to have a reputation as a great punster. A punster likes to play with words, and is usually considered a master of the double entendre. However, this past week I had to Google “word with two meanings” to find the phrase “double entendre.” That particular phrase was not coming to me his week.
Due to my battle with aphasia, I lost some of my ease with words. Many times when I am searching for a word, I feel like I am in a cold, dank and dark coal mine, bent over on my hands and knees crawling into the small crevices of my mind. When I get to the back of a crevice, I have to painstakingly claw through the mother lode of words that I find with a small pick and shovel for words to express my ideas. Although the images of what I want to say are very clear in my minds, the words I need to use to express those ideas are compressed into the hardened walls of my mind.
At other times,almost the opposite occurs. I find words or ideas jumping into my mind like Asian carp jumping out of a stream into boats when the stream is disturbed However, just like the Asian carp, once the words or ideas are in my mind, Idon’t know what to do with them. That’s why I carry a small notebook with me at all times, so I can write down these words and ideas, so that I can return to them when I am in a better position to do something with them.
The double entendre that I was trying to use in this posting is the phrase a deux. The first meaning of a deux comes from a French idiom for the phrase pas a deux, which means a dance for two. I believe the relationship between a patient and caregiver very closely resembles a dance for two. I will follow-up on this idea in another posting.
The second meaning of a deux comes from the cinematic scene. Ever since the movies “Hot Shots” and “Hot Shots—Part Deux” became box office hits, Deux has come to be associated with the idea of a sequel. Thus, at this level, I mean for this posting and any other follow-ups to be sequels to my earlier posting “Gazing into the Abyss.”
In movie parlance, the word sequel can itself be a double entendre. A sequel can be a continuation of the first movie, picking up the story where the first move left it, or it can be an amplification of the first story. I intend my sequels to be an amplification of the original posting. Oops, I let the cat out of the bag–there will be more than one sequel.
As a result of the posting Gazing into the Abyss, several individuals have commented that I led them to the brink of personal abysses and left them looking into the black hole of themselves. That is definitely not what I intended. What I was trying to say in the last paragraph of the posting, was that one of the most important things I can do is stand on the edge of the abyss waving a yellow caution flag and yell: “Stop gazing into that abyss, or else it might start gazing back into you and begin to draw you into it.”
I am not alone in this task. Fortunately, through the close-knit communities of patients with aphasia and epilepsy and their caregivers, I have encountered a number of other individuals or groups that are working diligently to wave yellow flags and warn others. In several follow-up postings I will highlight two such individuals, with blogs “Bendedspoon” and “Findingstrengthtostandagain.”
I will also do follow-up postings about two organizational or group blogs or websites. In case you can’t wait to get a head start on these last two categories, they are Aphasia Corner at <www.aphasiacorner.com> and the Epilepsy Foundation of America at <www.epilepsyfoundation.org.> (If you check out aphasicorner.com I invite you to read my essay that is featured in the lower right hand corner of the front page of one their issues and also available at <http://aphasiacorner.com/blog/living-with-aphasia-2/aphasia-friendly-words-are-more-like-cats-than-dogs-274>)
Experience Is the Best Teacher of Patience and Wisdom
Two of the greatest virtues that humans can possess are patience and wisdom. The following photograph illustrates how the two virtues can be reluctantly brought together. Given the expression of utter frustration on the dog’s face, I am confident that the dog did not learn the patience and wisdom needed in this situation from a stint in obedience school. He knew that he had to give that skunk a wide berth and access to the food bowl. Most likely, he learned the lesson in the experiential school of hard knocks.
What’s the relationship among experience, wisdom and patience? Three quotes may help us.
1. By three methods, we may learn wisdom: fIrst by reflection, which is noblest; second by imitation; which is easiest; and third by experience which is the bitterest.” (Confucius)
The expression on the dog’s face reflects a very bitter experience. It certainly helped the dog learn the wisdom of not crossing a skunk.
2.“All human wisdom is summed up in two words: wait and hope.” (Alexandre Dumas).
Although the word patience is not present in the Dumas quote, the close synonym “wait” is front and center. Obviously in the picture, the dog is waiting for the skunk to finish its meal, and hoping that there will be some food left.
3. “Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you.” (Aldous Huxley)
Your experiences are not the events that swirl around you. They are the lessons that you learn and appropriate.
To summarize the importance of wisdom, let us go to one of the wisest individuals to ever live. Listen to King Solomon:
Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding. (Proverbs 4:7 KJV)
I was drawn to the above picture for two reasons. The first reason is my recent experiences with skunks. Since my TBI’s in 2009, I have only smelled the telltale aroma of a skunk once. I no longer “smell” skunks. I see skunks. This is one of my dysesthesia (cross-sensory perceptions). When the aroma of a skunk is in the air, it causes me to see the vision of a dead skunk on an unidentified road. This particular dysesthesia has its own advantage. It protects me from a very unpleasant odor.
The only time I smelled a skunk is another story. One day as my wife and I were riding in our car. I “really” saw a dead skunk along the side of the road. Suddenly, I smelled the pungent aroma. I exclaimed to my wife, “Well, what do you know, I smelled that skunk!” She hesitantly replied, “Honey, I’m sorry but there’s no skunk odor.” She continued by saying that she saw the dead skunk and was very surprised that there was no aroma emanating from it. So instead of ridding myself of this particular cross-sensory perception, I had picked up another hallucination. My memory of skunks had kicked in. The sight of the dead skunk triggered the repressed memory of a non-existent odor.
The second reason this picture fascinated me was the fact that it reminded me of the pet dog I had for 17 years, as I grew up. All he needed was one encounter with a skunk that he had when he was still a puppy. He never messed with one again. Experience was a great teacher, and my dog learned well. Although he was a small fox and rat terrier mix-breed, he was feisty and very jealous of his domain. He was accustomed to chasing any four-legged creature no matter how big or fierce that dared to venture into our yard, except skunks. It was funny watching him trying to herd the cows from our neighbor’s farm back into their own pasture. I often wish I had the foresight to capture the looks of shame and resignation on the faces of the cows as they slowly meandered back into their pasture, and the look of joyful victory on the face of my dog as he barked a couple of taunting “Goodbye and good riddance” from his side of the fence. He had proudly defended his territory again. He had no fear of huge cows, but he steered clear of skunks.
All of this reminded me of a quote about learning that is usually attributed to Mark Twain: “A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.” Please believe, I am not advocating carrying a polecat by the tail unless you want to learn something you and anyone else who comes in contact with you with never forget. I may not be able to “really” smell a skunk now. However, I do remember what their odor smells like, and I do not wish to tempt my sensory perceptions that far.
Is There Room in the Academy for a Realist?
In a recent posting on this blog, entitled “Teamwork is Critical, Learning with and from Others”, I wrote about the dichotomy known as yin and yang. In ancient Chinese philosophy, these terms represent opposite but complementary items which form a complete whole. One way to over simplify this concept is to suggest that the same situation is viewed by some people as a problem and by others as an opportunity. A modern western idiom attempting to express this is the question, “Do you see the glass as half-full, or half-empty?” As I admitted in the afore-mentioned posting, as I have inventoried and catalogued my collection of files and books, I have experienced both feelings. At times I am elated at the long hidden jewels of ideas and thoughts that I am finding in my files and books. As I consider these ideas I am easily distracted and start trying to track down more about the given topic. I find myself creating more files to add to my already abundant collection. When I try to return to where I was when I was distracted, I can’t find my place or I can’t get back into the flow of things. I am pleased that I have been reintroduced to many great ideas that I had somehow abandoned. However, I am frustrated that I can’t excavate around these ideas more fully. I am almost convinced that a life-time of thinking will take a second lifetime to explicate it.
Speaking of yin and yang, this week I also discovered a quote that was attributed to Winston Churchill. Reportedly, he said, “A pessimist is someone who sees problems in every opportunity, and an optimist is someone who sees opportunities in every problem.” The question I would ask is, whether, in the academy, you must be either a pessimist or an optimist. Is there room in the academy for a realist? I would define a realist as someone who meets all of the following conditions:
- On a bright sunny day with not a cloud overhead, the realist enjoys the beautiful weather.
- However, on that bright sunny day, if there are gathering storm clouds far off in the distance, possibly not even within visible sight, the realist prepares for the coming storm, while continuing to enjoy the current beautiful weather.
- In the midst of a severe storm, the realist takes all reasonable precautions for personal and property safety.
- After the storm is past, the realist immediately gets to the task of remembering and honoring any individuals who might have been lost in the storm.
- After the storm is past, the realist will also immediately begin the job of clearing the debris from the storm and the restoration and rebuilding of new and better physical objects.
Instead of being the doom-saying, stuck in the mud pessimist, or the blue-sky always looking through rose colored glasses Pollyanna optimist, how much better off would the academy be, if more of us were realists?
Living in a metaphoric world and trying to communicate with the academy
I found two articles published this past July very significant and helpful. The first was an article in the Epilepsy Advocate magazine about Chris M., a minister and author, who found he was thinking and writing differently after the onset of epilepsy. The article may be found at http://www.epilepsyadvocate.com/default.aspx. The second article was a Chronicle of Higher Education review by Carlin Romano entitled “What’s a Metaphor For?” which can be found at http://chronicle.com/article/Whats-a-Metaphor-For-/128079/
Why were these two articles significant for me? After two traumatic brain incidents (TBIs )left me essentially able to think only metaphorically and unable to think analytically, sequentially or deductively, I have found it extremely difficult to communicate with the academy. This has been very difficult for me because the academy was my life for 40 years.
In March 2009, I had brain surgery to remove a benign tumor which was discovered when I had a stroke-like event (first TBI). When I regained consciousness in the hospital after the surgery, I immediately realized something was different. I couldn’t find the right words to complete thoughts. I knew what I was trying to say but the best word to express my thoughts would not come to my mind. I also had trouble following what other people were saying or writing. My speech therapist called the condition aphasia (loss of words). After 9 months of intensive therapy, I got to the point where usually I was the only person who realized that I was having trouble with words.
In December 2009, I had four conic-tonic seizures within a 30 minute time span (second TBI), which my neurologists blamed either on the stroke-like event or the scar tissue left from the removal of the benign tumor. When I regained consciousness in the hospital three days after the seizures, I immediately knew something else was very different.
I knew my ability to think analytically, sequentially or deductively had been severely compromised. Prior to the first TBI, I would try to think everything through analytically. After the seizures, my first reaction to any situation, problem or question was to draw a mental picture, i.e., devise a metaphor. What’s the difference? The battle between thinking analytically and metaphorically is like living in two different worlds or looking down two very different sides of the same mountain. For 40 years, I lived in an analytic world. However, now I was living in a metaphoric world. In such a world I found that I could not rigorously define metaphor. The best I could do was to describe it using more metaphors. Notice in my account above, to describe what was going on in my mind, I had to use a metaphor. Another discovery is that even the best metaphor may not completely satisfy the need for the rigor of those living in the analytic world.
Having lived in both worlds, I found it easier to understand someone living in the metaphoric world when I was in the analytic world, than vice versa. This insight reminded me of the episode of Star Trek, The Next Generation, entitled “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra.” In this episode the Enterprise Crew was working on trying to understand messages from the alien world of the Tamarians. The Star Trek universal translators could translate the words but the words make no sense to the Star Trek crew. Finally Dathon, the leader of the Tamarians, kidnaps Picard and strands the two of them on the planet El-Adrel together with a common foe. When Dathon tosses Picard a dagger, several of the Star Trek crew members suggest that this is a hostile act. It is not until later when Picard and Dathon are attacked by a third hostile alien that Picard understands that the dagger was an invitation to cooperate and jointly fight this new enemy. Although Dathon is killed in the fight, the humans and the Tamarians see that they can cooperate. It is only when the Tamarians start referring to this event as Picard and Dathon at El-Adrel, does the Star Trek crew understand that the other phrases the Tamarians were using were actually metaphors that referred to important events in their history. Thus, even though the Tamarians never could understand the straight-forward explanations the humans offered for events, the two groups were able to communicate and understand each other through metaphors, because the Star Trek crew started using metaphors.
As I contemplate a limited future within the academy, the two articles mentioned above have given me some new hope that I can find a few good friends who will be willing to work with me so we can translate each other’s language so that both groups will be enriched.