“A mind,” they used to say, “is a terrible thing to waste.” I’d add: It’s also a terrible thing to lose. This is what I’ve been worrying about lately. Fears of losing my mind have been weighing heavily on my mind. I can’t seem to remember new things — especially words in the Spanish language, which is perennially new to me. Although I try to study Spanish every day, for example, my formerly trusty brain refuses to cooperate; I can’t seem to form sentences. It’s become alarming.
Ever since I was a kid, playing the then-popular roll-and-move board game “Go to the Head of the Class” with my siblings, I’ve been trying my best to use and stretch my mind to the max. One of the small cardboard tokens in this game bore the image of a funny-looking blond girl with long bangs and braids who wore big owl-like glasses and a super-serious expression.
She looks just like me!, I thought at the time. So I always chose her as my student-stand-in and made sure she went to the head of each class and won all the games. My siblings, of course, resented this. My mother, Lee, wanted all of her girls to be, above all, pretty. But I, “Four Eyes,” as my brother called me, rebelled. I was determined to be smart – and to spend the rest of my life striving to go to the head of all my classes.
Fast forward to this past week and the MRI I had last Monday, which confirmed my fears: My brain is indeed betraying me now, at the age of eighty. Not only has it shrunken considerably (How can this BE!, I shout to myself, after all these decades of reading and learning and thinking, in an effort to expand it?!), but there are other issues even worse — such as lesions and constricted arteries, and white blobs (not a medical term) showing I’ve had a series of mini strokes. But I’m getting ahead of myself….
First, the brain MRI. This was a first for me. If you’ve never had one, I’ll try to describe the experience: You lay flat on your back on a narrow metal slab, while a plastic, cage-type thing is secured over your head. Then the slab slides head-first into a huge white tunnel, where you’re blasted with noise for an hour and ten minutes.
Pedro, the angelic young man who guided me through this harrowing process, cautioned me not to move a muscle. When I told him I have claustrophobia, he said they could get a doctor to come and give me something to help me “sleep,” but this would take longer and cost more. So I opted to be brave. Pedro gave me a “panic button” to press if need be, but I was stubbornly determined not to use it.
Inside the tunnel, my head being pummeled by mind-blowing noise, I created this brain game: I pretended I was in Gaza, trapped under the rubble of my apartment building, which had just been bombed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry out. The noise – the incessant hammering and drilling noises that were truly giving me a killer headache – was caused by the men who were attempting to rescue me as well as the others also similarly trapped.
I kept repeating to myself: You must be patient. This may take a long, long time. The men are doing everything they can to get you out. Don’t move – it would only make things worse. Don’t cry. If you are meant to be rescued, it will happen. You must be brave!
When sweet Pedro finally “rescued” me, I announced to him in a couple of Spanish words I happened to recall: “Soy valiente!”
“Yes,” he said in English, “you are brave!”
(Above: My watercolor rendition of my MRI — not to be confused with the real thing.)
In a few days I had the results, and my wonderful young doctor took her time to explain it all to me. I was relieved to learn it’s not Alzheimer’s nor dementia nor a brain tumor. My mother’s first and last MRI in 1982 revealed a malignant brain tumor, the size of a lemon, which led to her death at the age of sixty-nine from glioblastoma. I’d feared my MRI might show the same. Among her first symptoms was trouble finding words and forming sentences…
But my MRI last week revealed only relatively mild issues that need to be addressed and dealt with before they become worse. My doctora prescribed medication, supplements, and a physical therapist for brain exercises. I’m now following through.
Of course, being me, I’ve been doing some serious online research into brain health and what we can do to improve it – many of which I already do. Here’s a partial list:
- Reading (especially good books)
- Writing (such as daily journaling)
- Painting (I dabble in watercolor painting every evening)
- Music (listening and playing)
- Dancing (even alone at home)
- Puzzles (such as jigsaws) and word games (such as Scrabble)
- Gardening (I have a small terrace garden)
- Socializing (I have lunch with friends once a week)
- Strength training (using weights)
- Physical exercise (I walk an average of 3 miles a day)
- A healthy diet (of course!)
And I found a number of short, helpful YouTube videos showing exercises that are designed to improve cognition. Here’s a favorite:
Now that I’m eighty, which is officially “old,” I realize I must face new health challenges head-on and wrap what’s left of my shrinking brain around them. I have no fear of death – I suspect it might turn out to be the door to a great adventure in a whole new realm – but I feel I must do all I personally can to bravely and healthfully live in this body, on this earth, for as long as I’m meant to be here.
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Another excellent post – you’ve summed it up perfectly. Very smart to get the MRI and know exactly what you’re dealing with. I have found whenever I receive distressing medical news I go into shock mode on Day One and once that’s over I implement an Action Plan as you have. Somehow the fear and panic disappears if I tackle an issue head on. All good wishes and positive vibes coming to you from Florida. xx Jan
Thanks so much for this, dear Jan! And I really appreciate all the good wishes and positive vibes from FL! I hope you and family are well. Thank you for staying in touch. — BB xx
WOW! Thanks for sharing this experience with us oldies.
You’re so welcome, dear Rhoda! Yes, if you ever need an MRI, go to Hospital Joya and ask for Pedro. 🙂 I hope you’re doing well. — xx
Interesting perspectives, Bonnie. Thanks for posting. I noticed a cognitive decline during chemo and radiation for colorectal cancer, and I’m trying to cope with it.
You’re welcome, dear Mikel. Perhaps the brain exercises in the video in this post might help you? Also, the supplement my doctor prescribed is Creatine (made by Birdman), which I found at GNC yesterday and just started to take. It’s supposed to be very helpful. All best wishes to you, Bonnie
Dear Bonnie,
Gary and I can connect with all you say about turning 80 (at 83 and nearly 87). We, too, find ourselves more forgetful and sometimes forgetting the most common of words, but a recent brain scan showed my brain was fine–such a relief–I can identify with your experience of the MRI so much! Let’s keep reading, painting, and exercising and then trust in the “wisdom of the aging Gods” and enjoy the life we have! Thinking of you daily and will see you soon!
Thank you, dear Sher! Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing you and Gary back here soon. I hope your transition is a super-smooth one. — BB xx
Dear Bonnie, I relate to what you’ve been experiencing. Last year I thought I might need heart, lung or brain surgery and ultimately didn’t need any of these as many things going on in our bodies are aging related, but not as worrisome once we talk with the specialists. I am wishing you easy and joy in your 80th year and many times enjoying the list you’ve made to keep our minds active and healthy. You are such a wonderful person in the world!
Thank you, dear Karen, for these kind words. I’m glad you didn’t need those serious surgeries!
Yes, this is a challenging stage in our lives; but, fortunately for us, there are excellent gerontologists in SMA. — Abrazos, BB xx
Oh my dear Bonnie! It makes me sad to hear your sadness at having found out these indications that you, your mind and your body are not quite state of the art any more!!
Rejoice in all the tremendous things you have experienced, committed to everlasting paper and created and shared worldwide! Rejoice in your resilience which has caused you to live so long and so richly! You have not wasted any opportunity to be creative, compassionate or culinary!!
Maybe it’s not a surprise that your lifetime’s resources have been well used up-but, for sure, there’s still lots more to come!!
God bless!
Please don’t be sad, dear Sandra! I was hoping this post would help people, not make them sad. 🙁 Sending you my love and best wishes across the oceans, BB xx
BonnieDear, you are always so brave and straightforward. I don’t think there’s anyone your age (and younger!) who isn’t going through at least some of what you are. It truly does not sound too bad. Not as bad as I thought when I first started reading. And hey, if you can juggle three balls (CAN you juggle three balls?) you don’t have any problem at all!
Other than that, you’re doing all the right things. It’s amazing you have any problems at all, you’re so healthy. But everyone knows learning a language later in life is not easy. I can relate. If you were still living in an English only country (ugh), you wouldn’t even know it because you probably wouldn’t be trying to learn español.
xoxo ~ Be
Nope, can’t juggle, Be! 🙂 It’s a good thing I had the MRI because it showed a number of things (such as small stokes) that could easily/soon lead to larger issues (such as a big stroke) which would have occurred wherever I lived. The medicine I’m now taking should help prevent that worst case scenario. Vamos a ver! Hope you’re doing well.
Thank you for sharing . It was very generous of you to bring us into your world and entering a new chapter in your life. The 80’s are a whole new Cup of Tea! ( Might need a little shot of rum at times! )
Thank YOU, Luisa! Yes, I’m beginning to see that this new decade of the 80s is a lot different from all the rest! But as we say here in Mexico, “Adelante!” (Forward!) — BB
Ah yes, the topic that is on our minds so to speak!
Indeed! 🙂
Dear Bon,
I’m relieved to hear the results of your MRI are treatable and perhaps reversible. Dealing with health concerns is a formidable part of the aging process, and facing them in an open and informed manner, as you are doing, is the best way. Speaking for myself, I have to be careful to avoid lapsing into fear of the unknown, which is entirely counter productive. I’ve had three MRI and know how disturbing they can be, but you got through it like a champ. Thank you for sharing your experience, so others can take courage from your honesty.
Love,
Paul
Thank you, Paul dear, for your sweet and encouraging words. Yes, “treatable” and thereby preventive of further issues (like a big stroke!); but not, as far as I know, reversible. Glad I saw this in time! I’m hoping all my WOW readers start doing their own brain exercises right away! The brain is a terrible thing to lose. 🙂 Love back to you, BB xx
Really appreciate your posts, Bonnie. And your courage and honesty!!
Thank you, Lela. And I appreciate you!
Oh Bonnie! With your mom’s medical history that must have been absolutely terrifying for you. Not to mention the other two biggies that thankfully you do not have. Your are quintessentially Valiente and ingeniso. Life gave you no choice to learn this and you shall be so again. I faced some life threatening health challenges this year but I am still here and will have to go forward with adjustments, renunciation, and on most days a good attitude for developing a new way of approaching the things I love to do. I have learned that I can hold deep gratitude and being really pissed in my heart at the same time and it is ok!
Thank you for your honesty and wisdom and I wish you a beautiful journey forward. I know it will be.
And by the way your were both incredibly beautiful and smart and still are.
Barbara
Thank you so much for this, dear Barbara. I so appreciate your kind words and genuine empathy. If you wish — and when you have the time — I’d love to know more about your recent health challenges so we might commiserate. 🙂 All best wishes and mucho love, BB