By's Musings

Health Care

By Leave a Comment

The First Week at Home After My Week in the Clinic

The First Week at Home After the Week

Of Observation in the Neuroscience Clinic;

My Auras Spread from Visual to My Other Senses

In my first week at home after the week in epilepsy clinic, I had no experiences that I would label as major seizures. There were a few minor episodes. These consisted of a few instances of confusion or momentary absences. Also after looking at a bright light, I would see the fuzzy yellow donuts that I mentioned I saw during my stay in the clinic. After a little research I discovered that many people see these donuts. They even have a name. They are called Weiss Rings. On occasion during this week, the Weiss Rings would start acting like the round Microsoft cursors, with the rings spinning that indicate the computer is processing something.

At other times during the week, I saw things that looked like the Honey Bun sweet rolls that you can buy at convenience stores. Every time I would see the Honey Buns, I was hungry. Here is a “Chicken or egg question.” Did my hunger trigger the images or did the images make me hungry?

Another day after lunch as I settled down to take an afternoon nap on a full stomach, the multi-color whirlpools that spiraled down to their center came back, changing colors as they spiraled. I think I may have just solved my “chicken or egg dilemma.” The whirlpools lasted about fifteen minutes and then they started to fade away. However, they didn’t fade away completely, they transformed into multi-colored conch shells with their distinctive spirals visible beneath the main body of the shells. It would appear that hunger helped induce the aura of a food item.

Oops–back to the drawing board on that one. Two mornings in a row I woke up to food-related auras, and I was not particularly hungry or thirsty for the items in my auras. One morning I woke up smelling hot dogs with chili, mustard and onions. You know that smell that tells everyone what you bought as you walk away from the sidewalk hot dog vendor with a steaming dog loaded with chili, mustard and onions. The second morning, the first thing I saw as I awoke was the lights on my CPAP machine. As I looked at those lights, they reminded me of the shape of a Styrofoam cup. When I took off my CPAP mask, and started swallowing to get the dry sensation out of my throat, I tasted strawberry-lemonade. Neither of those items, a loaded hot dog or strawberry-lemonade, would come anywhere close to my idea of a good breakfast. I may have been thirsty and hungry, but not for those items at that time.

By 2 Comments

A Week in an Epilepsy CLinic

My Week in an Epilepsy Center

By Baylis

I gave them a scare when I arrived early on a Friday morning at the epilepsy clinic for a week of testing.  My wife, Elaine, had pulled up to the front door of the clinic to drop me off and give the car to the valet parking attendant. I grabbed my laptop brief case and a brief case with three books in it. The clinic had said to bring a laptop and reading materials because it can get boring sitting in the same room for a week without anything to do. Elaine grabbed my suitcase, duffel bag and CPAP machine for my sleep apnea. We took the elevator that was in the lobby. Elaine wheeled the suitcase down the hall to the check in desk and I carried my laptop and books. When we got to the check in desk, I was out of breath and in some obvious, but not serious distress. They made me sit down and checked my blood pressure and pulse. You guessed it. I was in A-Fib. My blood pressure was 150/110 and my pulse was 140. They called a doctor who made me lie down. After lunch and a short nap my blood pressure was 120/80 and my pulse was 110, but I was still in A-fib. My heart is extremely strong, my arteries are clear. It’s just that my heart doesn’t have any rhythm.

One morning during the week at about 2:30 AM bells and alarms started sounding off like fire alarms. Two nurses came running in and I asked them, “What’s up?” They said my blood pressure had dropped to 80/40 and my pulse had dropped to 55. By morning they were back up to 110/80 and 95. I didn’t have any official seizures while in the clinic for the week, just a few events that the doctors said left some tracks on the EEG but not where they thought they should be. I haven’t had any more impressionistic visions, but I did see spots, like those when you look at a bright light. For years when I looked at a bright light I would see fuzzy yellow donuts. This time they weren’t donuts and the spots were coming and going more frequently. One morning I woke up and looked up to the ceiling where the infrared camera was located. The camera was on because I could see a faint red glow. When I looked away I saw spots that looked like Mickey Mouse heads. They were large solid disks with two smaller solid disks, one at each side of the top of the larger disk. However, the disks weren’t black or gray. They were a smurf-blue in color. They lasted until I ate and took a nap. When I woke from the nap, and looked out the window, the spots returned but this time they were elongated donuts. After a while I recognized them as oval race tracks with the track one color and the infield another. The “head” of the clinic said that the EEG activity tracks were not where normal vision tracks would have been, so she had two guesses. One was side effects from medication. One of my anti-seizure medications is very effective against seizures but is known for strange side effects. She said that it was also possible that my optic nerve was displaced. She said that any one of the five traumatic events that I have gone through could have moved my optic nerves. The growing of the brain tumor might have moved them. The explosion of the blood vessel in the tumor could have scrambled things around. The filling of my cranial cavity with blood could have rearranged things. And finally although they try to be very careful in surgery, either the surgery or the aftermath of the surgery when the brain tries to return to its normal place could have displaced some nerves.

The Head of the clinic is “consulting” with my regular neurologist about switching me to different medication. In the meantime, each new day seems to bring a new set of spots. One morning, it looked like I was watching an aquarium. I didn’t see any fish, but there was a whole trail of clear air bubbles rising all across my field of vision. I had one other “event” in the clinic. Again it didn’t show up on the EEG as a seizure but it was strange. One morning, I woke up and hit the event button that they had given me and called the nurse. She came running and asked, “What’s the matter?” I pointed to my forehead. And the Nurse asked, “Do you have a head ache or pressure in your sinus area?” I said, “No, it’s a vacuum.” The nurse asked, “Does it feel like a vacuum cleaner is stuck to your forehead?” I replied, “No inside my head; my sinus area feels empty.” The head of the clinic said that was a new one for her. I told her I was afraid to tell anyone. I didn’t want it get out that I felt my head was empty. OOPS, did I just tell you? Promise you won’t tell anyone”.  Besides I have proof that there is something up there. The MRIs show that I still have at least half a brain, even if it does have a few scar tissues.

Today when I went with Elaine to the store to pick up something, the sun was very bright and reflected off a car in front of us. This time the spots were purple and orange whirlpools.

By Leave a Comment

Momentary Absences: Epilepsy, Aphasia or Senior Moments?

Momentary Absences: Epilepsy, Aphasia or Senior Moments?

Have you ever had one of those moments when you are not sure of where you are? They are sometimes called momentary absences. Or you know someone just asked you a question, but you didn’t understand the question or you can’t think of a reply, or you know the answer but can’t communicate it? Or you were doing something and you seemed to doze off? For those of us who are slightly age challenged, and have been diagnosed with epilepsy and aphasia, we have three conditions upon which we can blame these momentary absences. If they become more frequent, it behooves us to try to determine the source or sources of the absences.

When many hear the term epilepsy, they have a picture of violent convulsions or an attack of unconsciousness with either stiffness or floppiness. What is epilepsy? It is not a disease. According to the Encarta Dictionary, epilepsy is a medical disorder involving episodes of irregular electrical discharges in the brain and characterized by the periodic sudden loss or impairment of consciousness. These episodes are called seizures. Seizures can be large with total loss of consciousness and accompanied by convulsions, rigidity or floppiness, or small with what appears to be a momentary absence of some or several body functions. Some individuals are born with the tendency to have these irregular electrical discharges and hence, seizures. For others these irregular electrical discharges and hence, the seizures, begin after a traumatic brain event, such as a stroke, injury or operation. My seizures began after the removal of a benign brain tumor which was discovered when a blood vessel in the tumor burst, filling my cranial cavity with blood and causing all the symptoms of a stroke. My seizures most likely are a result of the scar tissue left after the removal of the tumor. I had four grand-mal or total generalized seizures within a 30 minute time-frame. I was hospitalized and stabilized. I was put on anti-seizure medication and I have not had any large-scale seizures since those first four.  I can’t tell you if I have had any “mini-seizures.” My neurologist has done several EEG’s. After one of them, she said that it showed lots of spurious activities. (I jokingly remarked, “So what’s new?”). When we asked her what that meant, she said that it could be a sign of lots of mini-seizures or the prelude to another major one.

I have come up with my own way of identifying my moments of absence. If I start to do something and before I can do it or finish it, I get sidetracked, that’s a senior moment. If I can’t remember to do something that I am supposed to do, again that’s a senior moment. If I find myself struggling in a conversation to find the right word or expression, that’s the aphasia. If I can’t understand the telephone answering tree when I call a company, that’s the aphasia. If I can’t understand and follow written instructions, that’s also the aphasia. If I am sitting in the lounger in the living room watching television, reading the newspaper, doing a crossword puzzle or a Sudoku, and I seem to zone out, then that’s probably the epilepsy. Of all the momentary absence, these scare my wife the most because she says that what happened in our car just before the first grand-mal seizure. One moment she was talking with me and I was slow responding to her. I was staring straight ahead with a blank expression on my face. Then I didn’t respond at all to her question and I became stiff and lost consciousness. When I zone out now, she keeps pumping me with questions to make sure that I am in there somewhere. Most of the time, I respond by her third question. Except for the dangers of seizures, it is convenient to have three excuses for unresponsiveness and lack of completing tasks. I used to have only one excuse, which was “selective hearing.” Occasionally, I still pull that one out of my back pocket to use.

By Leave a Comment

Hello world!

Welcome to my site. THe following Grand Rapids Press article tells a little bit about my story. This story told the story to October 2009. On December 30, 2009, another adventure began. I had four grand mal seizures and was hospitalized again for a week. I am now classified as an epileptic with all the challenges of that disease. I hope the blog will help me speak about higher education the thing that I love the most besides God, my wife and the rest of my family. I hope to post an original essay each Monday and a commentary on a selected news item from the top Higher Education Newsletters.  For those who are wondering what’s up with the beta squared, since my initials are BB and I am a mathematician, I have been using beta squared for years as my initials. ?2

Former Cornerstone University provost develops aphasia after blood vessel bursts in brain

By Nardy Baeza Bickel | The Grand Rapids Pr…

November 21, 2009, 4:35AM

GRAND RAPIDS — For 40 years, Bayard “By” Baylis has worked with words to develop curriculum for students and to help faculty teach better, most recently as the provost at Cornerstone University.

But after undergoing brain surgery earlier this year, words have been a bit tricky for Baylis: They behave like cats, not dogs, the educator said.

Bayard BaylisCourtesy Photo of Former Cornerstone University provost Bayard Baylis, shown here with his wife, Elaine Baylis, had a blood vessel burst in a brain tumor and developed aphasia, a disorder that impairs language skills.“Dogs come when you want them, but cats … they come to you when they want to come to you, not when you call them,” said Baylis, trying to explain what it feels to live with mild aphasia, a communication disorder that limits a person’s usage and
understanding of language.

Learning how to pick through his brain to find the right words has not been easy for the 63-year-old, who until recently spent his days revamping Cornerstone’s curriculum and designing new strategies to improve student retention and enrollment at Christian institutions.

“He was a beloved provost because of his humble manner. Faculty and students could sense that he cared about them. He’s such a good listener,” said Alan Blanchard, who worked with Baylis in developing Cornerstone’s journalism program he directs.

“He really seems to genuinely care about people.”

Now, Baylis keeps a small notebook in his shirt pocket to make sure he will capture the ideas as they come to him. He also color-codes the ideas throughout his writings to make sure he does not leave any of them without proper explanation.

“That’s part of the insidiousness of the disease. There are times that I know I sound as if I’m making sense, but it’s not the sense I wanted to make. This week I’ve been (writing) an article about liberal arts and practical education, and I’m trying to understand the ancient Greek system. It’s just been a battle,” he said.

The experience has done nothing but strengthen his relationship with God, Baylis said.

“God is a god of miracles and not a god of convenience,” Baylis said. “The timing of the episode was a small miracle. If it had happened 15 minutes later, I would have been making 70 mph on I-96. And if it had happened a couple of months later, we would have been in Illinois, not knowing many people, not having doctors, not knowing the medical (community).”

“That in itself was a miracle,” agreed his wife, Elaine Baylis.

This spring, Baylis resigned as the second-in-command at Cornerstone to revamp the academic curriculum at Trinity International University in Deerfield, IL, where he was to become dean and vice president of academic affairs.

He was in a meeting with faculty and staff at Cornerstone when he got the worst headache he ever has had.

His speech became slurred, he broke out in a cold sweat, and his face became ash-white.

Baylis has no recollection of what happened later: Of his friends calling 911, fearing he had suffered a stroke; of the ambulance ride to the hospital and of doctors finding, and removing, a non-cancerous tumor in his brain.

His wife, 63, was told to gather the family. If he made it out of the operating room, doctors told her, he never would be the same.

When Baylis woke up after surgery, his speech was altered, but he couldn’t tell the difference.

“It was so frustrating. There was a word that described the condition I wanted to describe and I couldn’t come up with it. I would have trouble following directions, oral or written,” Baylis said.

After months of physical, occupational and speech therapy, Baylis said, he is doing much better. Now retired, he had to pass up the job at Trinity.

He can follow a conversation without much help and already passed a test to regain his driver’s license.

But he still is easily exhausted and, once in a while, words elude him, he said.

Just recently, while attending a funeral service for a Cornerstone employee, Baylis said he had trouble recalling names of former colleagues.

“I knew what they did. I knew what they taught. I knew where their offices were, but I couldn’t come up with their names,” he said.

Still, he pushes forward. Baylis and his wife hope to move soon to Pennsylvania to be close to his family. They still spend most of the mornings, and some afternoons, talking with colleagues about the future of academia and what colleges should do to better to educate students.

E-mail Nardy Bickel: nbickel@grpress.com