Mea Culpa
Mea Culpa: a formal acknowledgment of fault or error. It’s the old Latin version of “my bad.”
I’ve been slacking on my blog, dear readers. But, I have had much on my mind. Specifically, I have had my brain on my mind. You see, I am going to get brain surgery.
Let me tell you about it. It’s called DBS, or Deep Brain Stimulation. A neurosurgeon implants two wire electrodes in my brain, runs the wires under my skin, down my neck, to where he will put basically a battery pack, or pacemaker, under my skin near my collarbone. Once it is turned on, it will send electrical pulses to help my brain do what Parkinson’s is keeping it from doing. It will help me to have more on times with less medicine. I’m excited.
I wasn’t, though. I decided it was the right thing to do when a friend, who I love dearly, said that if there was something I could do to prolong my quality of life, I owed it to my family to do all that I could to make that happen. She was speaking from a heartbroken place of experience, having watched a loved one pass away from a neurodegenerative disease. So I committed to, and started, the process.
I asked a lot of questions. Like Will the system be hackable? (no) Will it ruin my tattoos? (no) Will it set off the TSA screeners at the airport? (probably not) Is he going to have to shave my whole head? (no) Will I end up with holes in my head? (no).
See, I ask the important things. I was sure, although it took longer to ask these questions, that it would change my personality. I asked my neurologist, if it was going to change my personality, could he make me more kind and more patient. Good thing he thinks I am funny. I was sure that I would come out the other side dead, or worse, stupid. (shades of Hermione Granger there.) I was (and am) concerned about the cost. While insurance will cover it, I do have a co-pay up to an out-of-pocket maximum. And our insurance resets on July 1st, so the surgeries have to be done before then.
Then there is the equipment itself. They have a battery that needs replacing every 3-5 years. They also have a rechargeable one that lasts 15 years. I am opting for the rechargeable one. I want to avoid the physical and financial cost of having another surgery in 3-5 years. Besides, there is something amusing and satisfying about literally having to take time out to recharge.
It is a very thorough and selective process. Not everyone is eligible. I had appointments with my neurologist both off my meds and on, to test that I am responding adequately to my meds. Otherwise, no surgery. I met the neurosurgeon. He has successfully done hundreds of these. I had to go in for cognitive testing with a neuropsychologist. If I was showing signs of cognitive decline, no surgery. People with more education tend to fare better. See? My MFA in theatre is helping me once again.
I need to take a moment for some bragging here. They said that in 15 years of administering these tests, they never had anyone finish so fast and do so well. It only took one and a half hours, they told me it would take up to 5 hours . She told me I have a brilliant, beautiful brain.
During all of this, something odd happened at work. There was a car accident on the street out front, and the two people involved came in (separately) to see if our exterior cameras caught what happened. One of them works for a company that makes DBS equipment and knows my neurosurgeon well. And had nothing but good things to say about him.
Small world, isn’t it?
The result of all this is that I am more sure now than ever that this is the right course of action, that I will not only live through it but be better off, and not loose my mind. Or my brain.
I am a little nervous. You might be as well. But you can relax. It may be brain surgery, but it’s not like it’s . . . rocket science.
Peace,
Kathie