Apparently the cure for insomnia is to stay up late watching a nail-biting overtime conference tournament win by your favorite team. :) This morning instead of going in Dad's room to find he's been up for an hour working on quad-strengthening exercises in bed, he was rolled up in his blanket like a bug in a rug snoring away. Seriously, he has been sleeping better the past few nights. I actually attribute it to the relief the neuropsych gave him the other day in telling Dad that everyone who suffers anoxia struggles to get their sleep patterns back to normal. It's good to know it's not just you and that you're "normal."
And another contributor to his relaxation is the fact that we were able to visit the state's Low Vision Center yesterday to test Dad's visual acuity and take advantage of some tools to help him while he waits for his vision to improve. In watching their assessment of Dad, I can see how much his vision has improved just in the last week or so, and I got a better idea of how he's perceiving what he sees and what I might be able to do to encourage and help him. (Dad says he's "seeing" better than ever, but he can't "focus" on what he sees. Warning: nonmedical speculative opinion... It seems to me that he can see better when he's not thinking about it, but things he has to think about are more challenging. For example, he can see and respond to me smiling at him when it just happens, but if I ask him to tell me what face I'm making at him, he can't. But I'm very encouraged every time I see evidence that he can see and process, however limitedly now, the same information everyone else is processing. In other words, it may take him a minute to focus on the image of a giant 7, but he can see it, understand the image and what it means, and articulate it. To me that bodes well for the future. End of nonmedical speculative opinion. ) Oh, and Dad got a really cool watch from the LVC that speaks the time to him when he presses a button. Fun.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I would have to say that, cognitively, I'm afraid I'm out in left field
Today Dad had an appointment with a neuropsychiatrist. The appointment was for several hours of testing meant to determine Dad's current level of cognitive functioning.
Dad was a little nervous on the way to the hospital this morning. Because he can't function the way he wishes he could right now, he tends to get worried (as any of us would) that he's not doing very well. He told me, "I would have to say that, cognitively, I'm afraid I'm out in left field." I said, "Dad, just the fact that you articulated that sentence proves there's nothing wrong with you cognitively." "Oh," he said. :)
Anyway, I would have to say that today was the most positive medical appointment we've had to date. First of all, the doctor was very open about what we've known for months: that when it comes to the brain, all bets are off regarding how any one individual will react to or recover from an injury. You wouldn't believe how refreshing it actually is to hear a medical professional say, "You know, we really don't know."
The main take-away message from today, though, is that the testing showed the damage Dad sustained from the anoxia is quite localized. Considering the time he spent without oxygen, this is pretty amazing. Basically, Dad's vision and motor skills "took one for the team" leaving his cognitive processing, memory, and learning abilities relatively (there are still some minor issues which should mostly resolve over time) unscathed. It's a reminder yet again of how blessed we are that he is "himself" still, with all his mental faculties and personality. And it bodes well for his future recovery that his brain has fewer areas in which it needs to recover. (The doctor was very encouraging about Dad's potential progress given how well he's done these past few weeks, though he was quick to point out that recovering from anoxia is a "long, slow road.")
All in all, it was a very exciting morning. Dad and I celebrated by getting Subway and cinnamon doughnuts from Banbury Cross (if you live anywhere along the Wasatch Front and have never eaten one of these, go right now and get one...seriously, we'll wait...) and sitting at Liberty Park while we ate to enjoy the fresh air and watch the geese attack each other.
Dad was a little nervous on the way to the hospital this morning. Because he can't function the way he wishes he could right now, he tends to get worried (as any of us would) that he's not doing very well. He told me, "I would have to say that, cognitively, I'm afraid I'm out in left field." I said, "Dad, just the fact that you articulated that sentence proves there's nothing wrong with you cognitively." "Oh," he said. :)
Anyway, I would have to say that today was the most positive medical appointment we've had to date. First of all, the doctor was very open about what we've known for months: that when it comes to the brain, all bets are off regarding how any one individual will react to or recover from an injury. You wouldn't believe how refreshing it actually is to hear a medical professional say, "You know, we really don't know."
The main take-away message from today, though, is that the testing showed the damage Dad sustained from the anoxia is quite localized. Considering the time he spent without oxygen, this is pretty amazing. Basically, Dad's vision and motor skills "took one for the team" leaving his cognitive processing, memory, and learning abilities relatively (there are still some minor issues which should mostly resolve over time) unscathed. It's a reminder yet again of how blessed we are that he is "himself" still, with all his mental faculties and personality. And it bodes well for his future recovery that his brain has fewer areas in which it needs to recover. (The doctor was very encouraging about Dad's potential progress given how well he's done these past few weeks, though he was quick to point out that recovering from anoxia is a "long, slow road.")
All in all, it was a very exciting morning. Dad and I celebrated by getting Subway and cinnamon doughnuts from Banbury Cross (if you live anywhere along the Wasatch Front and have never eaten one of these, go right now and get one...seriously, we'll wait...) and sitting at Liberty Park while we ate to enjoy the fresh air and watch the geese attack each other.
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