Garth Bigelow - Thoughts

In high school and before I had some interest in trick or treating, mostly because my mother did not believe in it. After that I never had much use for the holiday and don't think I ever attended a Halloween party, or decorated the house, or answered the door for children.

This Halloween was no exception. Mostly I pretended to be part of the couch.

Wal-Mart started a plan in the great state of Florida last month were some 300 odd generic drugs would be $4 per month's supply. All but one of my generic drugs was on the list, which worked out to a savings of just over seventy dollars a month.

Now I'm not a Wal-Mart basher, and the savings is worth it (although I'm probably loosing as much in gas after four trips) if they get their act together after the initial rush is adjusted to, but this seems a bit ridiculous and their "we don't give a shit" attitude is a bit hard for me to take.

Me, I've been out of this drug for 2 days and haven't experienced anything to give me confidence that I'll actually get it tomorrow.

I finally make myself get out and walk. Just down to breakfast but then home a longer way. Not a great walk but a beginning. Baby steps.

I also finally sit down and do up a balance sheet on expenses. Assuming I spend nothing beyond what is set in stone, I require just under a grand a week to maintain the status quo. This is spot on the money of where I had loosely figured I was, still it's a shock to see I was right.

Late in the day my Nurtisystem arrives. It was a much smaller box than I was anticipating, but extremely heavy. After making sure that everything was there by arrange it on the kitchen table, I am struck by the fact that a months worth of food fits with ease on the kitchen table. I looks like I could eat all this in 3 days of only moderate effort. There is bunch to read, and the plan does require some additional food. So I will read the info, plan out a shopping list and begin this program on Monday.

It's been pretty hard to write since I got back from Protocol. I'm starting to think that they upped the dosage as I feel thick most of the time and it's hard not to spell out the events in a way that doesn't read like a laundry list.

Congratulations, Garth!
Your IQ score is 118

Your Intellectual Type is Word Warrior.

The Classic IQ Test

What's Your IQ?

The eBay war after what felt like a lightening up, went into overdrive yesterday with several of my friends getting knocked off. I know the smart plan is to hunker down and build accounts and new titles for when the siege is over, but I don't seem to be able to get that plan in action, so mostly I'm lying around watching TV.

Well now I've had a few auctions kicked off. That makes things seem grimmer. Time to get into gear somehow.

One thing that did not occur during Tracy's trip was me being any healthier. We did get in a couple walks to breakfast, but that's barely anything. And I had more sugar related items (alcohol, starch and even ice cream) than my system can easily tolerate. So today I ordered a months worth of NutriSystem. Hopefully taking the decision making out of meals will help me regain some control as well as help me reestablish a sense of what a portion is. I have no lofty goals. I have no reason to look better. But I just want to feel better and 40 or 50 pounds should accomplish that.

Some time ago, I had given Marilyn the whimsy check my mother to cook a Thanksgiving type dinner. Then my trip and Tracy's visit got in the way. I was planning on calling her when she called me and said she had to make it today because she had had the turkey for a week and needed to cook it. I had wanted to had the opening meal with them (followed by lots of Thanksgiving leftover sandwiches) but Shaun had contracted an infection in his tonsils and is contagious. So she brought the meal by around 6. Dinner was extremely good, and now I have enough food to last until nutrisystem gets here.

People have always thought it strange that I usually remain on good terms with my previous relationships; except for my family. It seems to be a pattern there. Tracy will always remain the person I loved most on this planet. And even still I feel the most complete when she is around. I thank the universe that she still finds some pleasure and need to be with me on occasion.

Tracy and I are both very private people. We don't open up much to others. And while I'm pushing myself in writing this site, I'm also respecting her predilections by not writing very much about her trip here. You might notice that she also doesn't appear much in the Anecdotes section either. It's not that there aren't some wonderful stories to tell, it's just that I don't feel it is my place to tell them.

One thing we did do was go over to Daytona Beach for three days. I had go up a few days prior to her arrival and looked at hotel rooms. It can be very difficult to find hotel rooms in Florida that are not infested with mold or other problems. In fact, it took seven hotels before I found one that was acceptable: The Surfside. Aside from not having a hot tub, it was rather perfect. 3rd floors, ocean side, and you could see nothing but beach and ocean.

The weather was not really cooperating, but not terrible. Since the pool was too cold to swim in and Tracy has a fear of rivers, streams and oceans, she suggested that we walk down the beach and look for a hotel with a hot tub to crash. A mere two buildings down was a condo complex with a hot tub. The area was gated but we followed a young lady (with ridiculously large implants) into the deck area. Knowing if we left that we wouldn't be able to get back in, we stayed for many hours, jumping from pool to hot tub and back again. An older man joined us for a while and we had fun pretending to be people other than ourselves. But as with almost anything we do, hunger eventually forced us to leave.

The next day we had breakfast at I-Hop and as we were leaving we were given coupons for a condo showing. It promised $50 for an hour of our time (when we got there we had to sign a form saying we knew it would require 90 minutes.) and being the frugal woman that she is, Tracy wanted to do it. It actually turned out to be fun, and true to their word we were handed $50 cash at the end.

Next on the list was a Ormand Beach Winery, a wine tasting shop on the north end of Daytona Beach. Lots of very interesting wines, some of them quite good. The one that sounded great to Tracy was Orange Wine aged with Coffee. Turned out she didn't like it, but it ended up being my favorite and I bought a bottle - on writing this I decided to go christen the bottle and pour myself a small glass. Tracy bought several wine based sauces and the fifty was gone.

Walking out we were again approached to go next door for another condo type thing. We went - we resisted - the idea actually seemed really good if I had any form of income right now it was something I would like to pursue. It wasn't a condo, so much as a rental club. Anyway, we were given some prize certificates for cruises that were, to me, confusing. I'm not sure what happened to them.

On the last day in Daytona we went to the Marine Museum, which is pretty small, but Tracy likes animals and I like turtles and it was still fun.

Back at the house, we mostly lounged around. We sound like very boring people, but I'm always so amazingly comfortable around her I really don't need to be doing anything. Thankfully she's like that much of the time.

As airlines seem to do with increasing regularity, they overbooked a leg of Tracy's flight, so she was rerouted to Detroit and then to Orlando. This landed her over 5 hours late and poor saintly Marilyn waited down there for her.

I did not sleep well last night. My intellect is slipping much faster than after previous visits, leaving me less of an adjustment period. Yesterday, picking up in Gödel, Escher Bach from where I had left off just the day before, I found it impenetrable.

I'm also not feeling physically well. I've become heavier than I am comfortable with. Hopefully Tracy's visit will help improve my physical health. Fred called yesterday wanting to trade some computer and DVD work for workouts. So combining all those things together with the thought that I had already had about using nutrisystem, albeit originally to save money and simplify decisions, should allow me to accomplish the modest goal of regaining comfort with my own skin.

There is only a 25 minute lay over at Charleston. We hit Jacksonville at 5:20am. There is almost zero traffic at this hour. No stopping and smelling the roses on this leg, I want to get home. My neck is still sore and I really want some sleep. My only stop is Waffle House as I didn't eat anything on the plane. Even though the place is nearly empty they manage to be noisy as hell. Banging dishes, and yelling orders and generally at each other. I put in first one earplug and finally gave in and put in the other.

Slightly too wired to sleep, I work on cut and pasting my notes into this form you are reading. My mother and sister have also emailed me a couple of corrections, which I tend to as well and - voila! I am done.

I had incredible recall on (I assume) my final three dreams of the evening. Unfortunately they were very mundane dreams (watching the ocean from a balcony, reading an Iron Man comic book, cleaning mold off a steam bath floor.) I rarely remember my dreams, and when I do it only the final dream that I am having when I wake, and never in the level of detail as this. And as I knew, but others have argued with me about, I do dream in color. I assume this is a result of the TMS, I doubt it will but it would be (again I assume) cool if it were to persist.

More show and tell with my brain, now with the option of switching to, or superimposing with, the MRI structural view. After watching this over the shoulders of Tech, Dr. X and a new Dr. X (Dr. X₂) at my brain as they point and play with the keyboard, I decide to bluff. I'd come to guess through Internet searches, and my more persistent symptoms and frustrations that the demyelization, that so far has thankfully been content to mostly traipse through my cerebral cortex, might now be interfering the functioning of my amygdala. Now I was having trouble even staying oriented when they were moving the model of my brain around, but I've found that the best way to get straight answers here is sound intelligent, like I'm one of the techs talking.

"Does that show that my amygdala is impaired?" I asked pointing in the general direction of the screen. Often when I try to say amygdala it comes out a-men-dala, but thankfully this time my mouth cooperated. Their look would have been exactly the same if one of the lab monkeys* had suddenly spoken English. Really, I almost burst out laughing. Dr. X grabbed his Blackberry and typed something quickly. This is a move I've seen Drs. R & S do a hundred times, and it is always followed by "Caren will talk to you about this." Dr. X apparently was not as up on me specifically, he said "Your NITIC will take this up with you." Good news they generally like to dispense personally, so I assume I'm correct.

Finally, implantation. Turns out they took all that blood so that they could run all the tests from it, leaving me free to be injected and continue on with the testing and prodding without waiting for the results. This I'm told should cut a full day off my visits.

Usually shooting in the implant is just a quick sting. This time it hurt like crazy. Maybe they had to make it thicker, maybe it hit a nerve or something, but - OUCH!

My mother mentioned on the phone later, and at first I though she was wrong, but now I'm remembering - I am usually sedated for the implanting. That may be why it hurt more at the time, but doesn't explain why it still is sore.

It's almost 6pm when I'm sent up to Carin's office for the wrap up. There is a train at 9:10, otherwise I have to catch the 3:55am. It's going to be close.

We talked about how I was coping and stuff like that for an hour or so, and much to my surprise when we looked over I had a response. They clipped 6 paragraphs and two other sentences (and corrected a couple spelling errors - which for some reason struck me as funny.) but the bulk of it survives. A lot of reading which I hope someone appreciates as it was a ton of work. But it will have to hold you over as I don't expect to be doing a lot of entries while Tracy is visiting.

I'm watching the clock closely now. I'm sent to the pharmacy at 8:07. I'm given the same speech Carin gave me about dosage and mixing, and it's all written done for me too. That and 24 Dilantin and I'm sent down to Check out. Sign my name about 16 times and I'm outside waiting for the cab. It's 8:23.

It's gotten a lot colder since I arrived; it's real easy to forget how important a jacket is when you live in Florida. Next time I'm going to see if I can leave my leather one there.

I have a dream/thought as I'm falling asleep, inspired from watching Shark the night before. Shark is a new show in which a former defense lawyer, played by James Woods, switches over to being a prosecutor. My derivative idea (I don;t feel bad, all shows seem to be stolen from other shows now) is a House like character, extremely brilliant at what he does, but socially dysfunctional and sadistic in a audience acceptable way. But he is an attorney. The catch is that some days he is a prosecutor, some days a defense attorney. And not always on the side of justice (he doesn't always defend the innocent, he doesn't always prosecute the guilty. Like House it's the impossibility of the case that draws his attention. David E. Kelley should direct. Some one like Michael Caine should play the lead.

In the pilot he is strictly a defense lawyer known for not losing a case in the last 30 years. Early in the case he uses a tactic that while morally unconscionable is legal which leads unforeseeably and indirectly to the prosecutor being killed. His actions are looked into by an ethics panel. Guilt ridden he leads, manipulates and angers the judge into sentencing him to filling the prosecutors shoes.

I awake after 8. I jump out of bed and discover my right side isn't playing fair today. Neither that, nor breakfast, distract me from my quest. Down to the tech, off with the helmet. I'm free, and off to the showers. Ahhhh....

Wow, it's cold in my room now and it takes a good half hour to get someone with the keys to turn the heat up.

After an MRI, they take an entire bag of blood. They've never done that before but it's no different than giving blood. Then I'm given an injection of what looks like mercury. I ask the nurse what it is, but she says she doesn't know. That strikes me slightly disquieting, but I suppose that's not too unusual in a research facility.

I'm sent to my home to recover from giving blood. A few hours later, Caren buzzes and says to report to tech at 1pm.

I thought the processing of the helmet data would take days, but Tech (the more I think about it, I don't think he ever introduced himself, so Tech it is) is staring and manipulating a full screen mockup of my brain. He shows me how he rotate the image, plunge inside it, move further forward or backward in time and switch modes to video feed of what I was doing at the time. He says later in the day they will have the data from MRI and the physical layout will be another view they can switch to, oriented to however they have the electrical model oriented. He talks on, I have a million questions but I stay silent afraid to make him stop. I'm trying to match up what I'm seeing with the anatomy of the brain I've been studying. This is difficult both because I'm not at the controls, and my memory isn't matching up with what I'm seeing. I just can't get my bearings, but I'm making notes of the size and number of black areas.

Tech asks me a few questions from a sheet. Apparently the earlier shot is a short term liquid form of the implant. He is trying to measure if it is full strength. Tech goes back to his keyboard. A little while later a doctor that I haven't met before comes in. I make note that he definitely doesn't introduce himself. He puts a probe that looks like tiny coat hanger on a ruler slightly above my head and rings a tuning fork in my ear. He stares at a screen and tells Tech I'm not ready yet. Doc says they will try again in an hour. They are going to do TNS, have no food and no medicine and report back in a hour. And he is out the door before I can ask what TNS is.

It takes me a good part of that hour to figure out that he said TMS: transcranial magnetic stimulation. This is new, but doesn't sound unpleasant. I loose track of time studying it and they have to buzz me.

TMS doesn't hurt, but it can feel rather strange at times. It also causes memories, smells and the occasional unrequested body movement to occur. It also went on forever. I was completely drained by the time they let me go which was around 10pm. Soon after that I was fast asleep and slept straight through the night.

I dreamt that they attached a toaster to my head. Oh wait, that actually happened.

I try to meditate, but it's not my best effort as I'm too aware that I should be meditating so they can get a reading of it that I can't properly push that thought out of my mind.

They aren't letting me get their $100,000 new toy anywhere near water, so at the tender age of 45 I have my first sponge bath. I try to remember how I bathed when I had the neck brace back when I was a teenager. I couldn't have taken a shower with it on, couldn't have taken it off, but I assume I got cleaned somehow. I don't remember. Before I got ill I suppose this intrusion might have bothered me - maybe not I've never been very shy. But given lack of human contact, and the lack of self-consciousness that a short ticket brings, I enjoy the sensations.

I'm sent back down to good old what's his name who looks over the helmet and analyzes the signals at the computer. I've learned that if I can keep the questions relatively intelligent they forget they are talking to the lab rat. He explains that the cameras in the hospital are tracking and recording where I am and what I'm doing. Meanwhile, the helmet is transmitting 4 second snapshots of the electrical activity of my brain. When the 48 hour period is over the computer will build a virtual model of my mental activity that can be viewed from every angle and depth and can be referenced from or refered back to video of what I was doing at the time. He is obviously very pleased with this technology and therefore surprisingly talkative. I suggest that they install air vents and maybe some little fans in the next model.

Even though I know the answer, I ask if I get to have a copy of the data - I even offer to pay for a portable harddrive. He remembers my status and finishes his tune up in relative silence and then sends me up to Caren.

She explains that today they are going to subject me to various stimuli and experiences. They are also going to try to induce a couple of seizures including a full blown bang. In for a penny I guess, but my memory of the pain, while not exactly fresh is still a figment of strong fear in my mind. I offer the one sure method for triggering a full seizure, but Caren isn't willing to go as far for science as I am....

Running on a treadmill, a couple pins in the fingers, the full spectrum of sounds from too low to hear to too high. High temperature. Low temperature (more please). Sweet food, sour food. Loud noise, noisy room. Various smells. Electrical current applied (when does that happen in my life?) Bright lights in eyes. Then short surprise loud whistle near the ear. Apparently I'm out for a few seconds. They try to put these goggles on me, but it won't fit over the helmet, ha ha. Actually the jokes on me, they tape my eyelids open (it's just as uncomfortable as it looks), duck tape the goggles (I keep typing googles) to the helmet and connect the headphones. It starts slow but soon chaos fills my eyes and ears. And I'm gone, and then I'm back - still geared up - and the noise is much louder and the pain is indescribable. Next thing I know I'm back in my room with Caren sitting in the chair by the bed. They got their seizure recording. If they ever want to do this again, I'm holding out for the blow job.

I can't fall asleep on the second leg. I'm dead on my feet when I step off the train and float into a cab. I fall asleep in the cab (my luck I fall asleep during the 10 minute trip not the 6 hour one) but the driver either doesn't notice or decides not to take advantage of the situation as the price is roughly the same as always. It's a little after 6am when I reach the hospital. Caren isn't there yet, they take all my worldly possessions except my robe.

Caren arrives at 7:30 and as always there is the 8000 page questionnaire (only a slight exaggeration). This is always very tedious, but doing while tired increases that ten fold. We go over the list of thousands of foods that I either have or haven't had these last six months. ("Q: Have you had any Salsify?" "A: No, I still don't know what that is." Any changes in routine. "Yes, I've stopped exercising and I'm eating everything in sight." Have I done this? Have I done that? For four hours this goes on (like usual). We break for lunch, I nap instead. Usually when I sleep for less than two hours, I feel rather poisoned, but this short left me feeling slightly refreshed. This is good because I'm taken back to Caren for the IQ test part of the ritual. I enjoy this because I'm closest to my old self - in terms of cognitive ability - after the implant has run it's course. This is a timed test (unlike the Internet one I use on my own) and feels more official. It's lengthy and tiring, but I'm surprised by the outcome , 146-149, which is the best I've done in quite sometime.

I'm sent down to a tech I haven't met before (and whose name I instantly forgot). He measures my head about twenty different ways and disappears for half an hour comes back with a foam and putty form which he then presses around my face. While he does so he explains that I am going to be wearing a helmet for the next two days that will be transmitting my brain's electrical activity to the a computer. He removes the form and again leaves. I get on the computer and to my surprise discover it is connected to the Internet. I email mom and Tracy. Eventually the tech returns with a white plastic thing, halfway between a football helmet, a storm trooper headset and a beauty shop hairdryer. I'm relieved to discover it is high-speed wireless. The relief ends there. It weighs, I am told 17 pounds. My neck hurts from the thought, more from the reality. When I moved to Florida I started wearing a cap, because keeping the sun out of your eyes is vital down there, and a cap still lets the heat out of the head. With my hefty flesh parka I run pretty hot anyway, with my body heat trapped I'm going to heat up something fierce. The helmet is locked in place, and doesn't obstruct my field of view much more than my cap would.

Finally I am shown my room. TV! That's new, and I'm so pleased that I'm almost all the way through Dharma and Greg before it occurs to me that I have a television because they want data of what my brain looks like when I watch TV. Damn, I'm hot. It's not just that this thing is trapping my body heat, it's loaded with electronics and is generating it's own heat. It's a pain, but if it leads to data that allows them to increase my standard of living in the long run, I'll shut up and stop whining. I type yesterday into the computer in my room and email my mom bitching about the helmet.

Dinner comes and goes, and Caren calls to tell me that tomorrow will be all about stimulating me in different ways. Until then I'm free to do whatever whatever I want. I set my little bit of eBay for the next couple days, lie down to watch My Name is Earl, and pray for sleep. Apparently my prayer is answered, because I don't remember how it ends. My room is set at 68 degrees, I've kicked off everything but some of the sheet and I awake around 3am bathed in sweat.

I'm heading out to travel to the Protocol in a few hours. I might be gone for as long as a week. I will keep notes while I'm away but will not be able to update this site until I get back. As most of what goes on their is probably covered by the non-disclosure agreement you will only get the broad strokes medically. It will probably be a good time for me to work on the Anecdote section which I have given very little attention of late.

I fell asleep very late, tossed and turned the rest of the night and when I woke up Bill was already hard at work. Late as it was, I wasn't worth much more than watching TV. When I finally got myself together, I had less than two hours to pack. Surprisingly I left 40 minutes later and as far as I know only forgot my bathing suit.

It's sunny and I'm tired which is not a good combination, but I'm an hour ahead of a schedule that was already loaded with lots of contingency time (I am my father's son when it comes to planning travel time) so I decide that I will take route A1A up to Jacksonville. My only experience with A1A is a short strip up near the Georgia border, but I figure there will be much slower traffic and stop lights to keep me awake.

I turned out to be a fantastic ride. I've always loved the water - not surprising growing up on an Island. It calms me. I use to point out bodies of water to Tracy as we drove to various parts of the country. "Oooh, water!," I'd say. Eventually she asked me to stop. She's a mountain person; water does nothing for her. But for me it refills my soul, and A1A is right on the water for miles and miles and miles. I plan to explore Daytona - which so far I have ignored - after I return.

Even going the slower route, I'm at the train station with a half hour to spare. I have a whole car to myself until Savannah where I'm joined by a slightly older woman named Joy. We strike up a conversation. I've noticed that I often use my condition as an ice breaker. If I don't work it into the first five sentences, then I'm not going to mention it at all. At this point a conversation usually goes one of three ways:

Joy was on of the last type. It was actually very nice and eventually she exhausted herself and fell asleep on my shoulder - which was even better.

I'm pretty pleased with myself at the moment. All morning, having received no response from the Support Center, I dug through the tutorials and the help system. I found these very frustrating for they seem to be written not for those that need help, but for those that already know the answers. Meanwhile I'm having trouble even formulating the questions. But finally I grasp what is needed to make the headers and footers working. Several revisions on this idea later, they work again! It's like my mind still works! I do have a fairly good headache for my troubles. Please let me know if any part of my site appears broken.

Wow, it's been a battle getting this site over to the new domain server. There is still a lot to get working behind the scenes, but I've got everything back except the header and footer that are usually on each page. I have a question in on how to rewrite that code. Other than that, the rest of it will probably have to wait until I get back from NC.

Karen wrote to tell me that she never said she would continue emailing. On rereading the original I can see that I did indeed misread it. Her response to my apology was very self-deprecating in tone and made me feel that the best action was probably just to let it drop and not respond.

Another good day, not a great day like yesterday, but I was expecting a bad day so I am very happy. My sister called which was good as she the habit of calling when I'm having trouble speaking, thinking or feeling ill. It was good for her to hear me chipper, and she sounded unusually grounded and happy herself.

I'm going to take advantage of today's good fortune to finally switch this site over to it's - hopefully - permanent domain server. This may disrupt your ability to access this site for a short period of time. So if can't read this... well then you also still won't know why :)

The new domain will offer a lot more growing space, supposedly more reliable uptime, and support for things like PHP, Java and a whole bunch of other things that most likely mean little or nothing to you but will allow me (with some learning) to make this site more interactive and entertaining.