Last Thursday was my final trip to Cardinal Hill. It was the six month follow up exam for a research study I participated in for stroke victims and brain damaged persons.
At least I think that's what it was for. They had a detailed scientific description of the study on the wall next to the mat where I did my stretches, and I must have read the description of the study and I can't even piece together a random word from the wall.
I know they strapped electrodes to my bum arm and shocked me for a certain amount of time and that I could bring a DVD and watch it.
I quickly went through their collection of DVDs. I picked off the musicals first, and saw classics like Carousel for the first time. I also finally saw West Side Story for the first time, something my friend Michelle Holbrook had recommended back at the Methodist Home.
(When we WORKED at the Methodist Home. We were never "inmates" there.)
Thursday the main difference I noticed was cognitive. I could read the test materials as they were given to me and inadvertently commented on them.
One test the doctor gave me (other than the people running the study, I don't know anyone's professional credentials). She had me do some repetitive task (they were all repetitive). I think it was place a wooden block on top of a cardboard box or move a weight across a line or who knows what it was.
Anyway, I glanced down at the instructions and the directions said to give me a minute's rest between each of repetition. I pointed this out to the doctor (or research assistant or whatever her title was) and she very quickly covered up the page.
The other thing I read off the page was the name of the test. It was the "Action" research analysis exam, a fact which I made fun of for the remainder of the session.
Anyway, to the point, I considered myself cured, or at the very least "recovering." My brain was better than it had been.
But as Rudyard Kipling wrote in his famous poem "If," triumph and tragedy are twin imposters. I would learn this the next day.
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