I got confused about the time this morning. Got to Oxford Circus and the shops were closed. 'This is odd, have the clocks changed?' I thought. Trying to write about it now I can't even imagine HOW I got the time wrong - did I suddenly think my appointment was at 11am? Did I momentarily forget/trust my memory that shops in the West End open at 10 and think they opened at 9, and think it was 9, therefore they aren't open and that explains it?
[It's a week or two later and I venture in this bracketed-bit, an attempt to fathom out for myself what happens in a moment like this. Here goes: My brain was juggling 10am and 11am and 9am around...To do with 9 an 10 being closely associated because with the appointment at 10, I have to leave at 9. Then, concentrating on the 10, thinking, (but all non-verbally) well, perhaps I left at 10 for 11 and then: '....why are the shops closed at 11 am? They should open at 10 am?' Then thinking more about clocks back and not having the brain space to think 'it's a week day they never go back on a week day'...and finding it impossible to remember the mnemomic 'Spring forward, Fall back' and even less possible to compute what that might have meant...let me try that now: it was 10 therefore it would have been 11 and the shops would have been even more likely to be open...even if ti were a Saturday. And then just writing that I got the real situation - and am astounded at how simple it is. My appointment was for 10am...therefore it would have been 9.50am (with a 10 minute walk from Oxford Street to New Cavendish Street ahead of me) and it was a mere ten minutes before the shops opened. From this I see one of my coping strategies - relate to the number of the hour strongly...this is why 50 and 40 minutes past the hour are hard for me. And 28 minutes and 48 minutes...forgetaboutit.
I feel a bit ashamed having written all of that.]
Anyway, that's a little sample of the unnecessary confusion I normally hide and keep to myself, and which I am hoping will become a thing of the past.
I got to my appointment at the right time, ten am.
I also slipped up on texting a friend possible dates to meet. I was a fast texter on the Nokia (not predictive text, just inputting) but now my iphone has a spellcheck thingy which if you are not vigilant corrects you and getting used to the touch screen doesn't help. I had asked my friend about 24th and 25th when I meant 14th and 15th.
Dr P is struggling with email when I arrive. She wants to send me a questionnaire.
I ask Dr P some questions - might this brain training help my friend who has just been diagnosed with MS. Yes. When will we work on my tinnitus? We will correct these two brain areas and then move onto that.
I work again on pumping up the green thermometer - low beta waves are go.
'A brilliant scoring rate,' says Dr P.
'How's the fatigue?' she asks. I say : 'well I am less sleepy tired, and I seem to wake more easily and more refreshed.' Hm, it's true, I feel less of that dragged from the depths of the earth with alarm, by the alarm. Less of the buried-in-concrete feeling on awakening.
My brain waves (or angles - this particular readout is linear) are flatter, more coherent, with occassional jumps in to jagged lines.
'That looks much healthier now, that's what we would have expected,' says Dr P.
We are integrating the systems. We work on the two brain areas and we add a new 'protocol' or programme. I do FOUR lots of looking at hte bars pump up and down.
I am thrilled about this - I am getting more work done, yes!
The first minute of each programme is all about the machine getting a 'baseline' reading, so it can set up targets. Dr P praised me and my brain made a negative blip. 'What's your relationship to praise?' Interesting question.
I remember being praised and my brother being criticized in the same question. It was normal practice at home and you'd think a positive thing for me to hear, but I guess actually stressful: to have Paul insulted and almost being the cause.
It's hard to describe this process of improvements. It's not liek recovery form a car crash I suppose - 'I took ten steps yesterday, twelve today, I am getting better!' I have a buzz of expectations, fears, hopes, aversions and frustrations around the process.
I do feel tired over lunch after wards, 'I could sleep.' I write in my journal. Am I just a malingerer? Am I babying myself?
I sleep badly that night - I aware at 2 am buzzing. I have to read for a bit, get up and rinse my arms with cold water. A long day traveling and teaching in Cambridge. Fun work, but tired on my way home.
Next day it's session 4, the four training sessions. Not much to report. I try not to watch the score. I was getting the the 4 or 5 hundreds, now it's more like 200 something. But overall I can see there is a new trend. when the graph line starts to incline up again, Alan stops it in case it's tiring the brain. I never feel tired doing the training, though. I feel hungry for it.
I ask if protocol is just another word for programme. Alan tells me that 'protocol' is a term for when two electronic systems communicate with one another.
I have a wonderful afternoon with my friend and her gorgeous baby looking at the Susan Hiller exhibition at the Tate Britain. The following day I set the alarm for 6 but snooze till 9. Damn.
It's Thursday 24th March. I take the new ampules. I put the homeopathic pills in a little tin to take before lunch, and start to look for something for the ampules to go in realize. It's then I realize my mistake was even more disastrous. It's one of each of three ampules, three times a week. I was taking one of each three times a day, every day. Dear sweet lord. My fear is that I have made my self even dumber.
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