Unit One Post
Can we trust our memories? Do they encompass everything we have gone through?
These were just two of the many questions that I sought to answer during the journey we took through unit one. During the last two weeks, we talked extensively about the loss of memories, souls, brain anatomy, memory formation, and a fascinating and debilitating disease called Alzheimer's.
During our discussion about souls, I found myself drawing more towards Plato's idea that the soul does not die, even if the body perishes. The idea of the immortal soul is especially comforting to me, as like I mentioned in my first blog post, I lost one of my best friends earlier this year to suicide. It's difficult, especially realizing that I vaguely remember the happy memories we shared, but more clear to me is the traumatic week in which I learned that she had taken her own life. Even though I'd prefer not to remember losing her, the memories seem to stick.
Notable people we discussed in class included Phineas Gage and Henry Molaison. Phineas Gage's story also resonated with me a bit, as I had a tumor in my frontal lobe resected. As a young child, I was extremely bubbly and chatty, and my foster mother would describe me as a girl who knew no strangers. However, when I was eight, I began having double vision, seizures, and intense headaches, and that led to the discovery of a brain tumor about the size of a grape in the right hemisphere of my brain. Although the tumor was benign (not cancerous), it needed to come out. I vaguely remember being sedated, but I remember nothing about the surgery, as the medications messed with my abilities to register and consolidate my memories. The doctors did a really really good job of sedating me.
After my surgery, however, I became shy and quiet and withdrawn. I was selectively mute for three months and the left side of my body was much much weaker than my right, due to the injury to my right hemisphere. I had a seizure two weeks after surgery, and then never again. It took a lot of physical, occupational, and speech therapy to get me talking again. The thing I remember most clearly, however, was being bald for a month. I hated people staring at me and the huge scar across the top of my head. Fortunately, I'm no longer bald and am not too traumatized anymore by the brain surgery. My doctors did a great job.
Returning to my two questions, however: I'd say no to both. Although I lived through both of these traumatic events, the parts that really "stuck" were the really really bad parts. I faintly remember the gains and successes I made after brain surgery (when I took my first steps after surgery without a walker, all twelve of the nurses in the ward cheered for me!) but the ones that really stand out to me are the negative events. And with Annie, I remember the day I found out she was gone more clearly than most of the happy memories. Unfortunately, the memories made during strong emotions and rough waters have a stickier and thicker "glue" and those memories will most likely stick to me for the rest of my life.
These were just two of the many questions that I sought to answer during the journey we took through unit one. During the last two weeks, we talked extensively about the loss of memories, souls, brain anatomy, memory formation, and a fascinating and debilitating disease called Alzheimer's.
During our discussion about souls, I found myself drawing more towards Plato's idea that the soul does not die, even if the body perishes. The idea of the immortal soul is especially comforting to me, as like I mentioned in my first blog post, I lost one of my best friends earlier this year to suicide. It's difficult, especially realizing that I vaguely remember the happy memories we shared, but more clear to me is the traumatic week in which I learned that she had taken her own life. Even though I'd prefer not to remember losing her, the memories seem to stick.
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| She was so so excited that a "witty pretty kitty" had chosen her! |
Notable people we discussed in class included Phineas Gage and Henry Molaison. Phineas Gage's story also resonated with me a bit, as I had a tumor in my frontal lobe resected. As a young child, I was extremely bubbly and chatty, and my foster mother would describe me as a girl who knew no strangers. However, when I was eight, I began having double vision, seizures, and intense headaches, and that led to the discovery of a brain tumor about the size of a grape in the right hemisphere of my brain. Although the tumor was benign (not cancerous), it needed to come out. I vaguely remember being sedated, but I remember nothing about the surgery, as the medications messed with my abilities to register and consolidate my memories. The doctors did a really really good job of sedating me.
After my surgery, however, I became shy and quiet and withdrawn. I was selectively mute for three months and the left side of my body was much much weaker than my right, due to the injury to my right hemisphere. I had a seizure two weeks after surgery, and then never again. It took a lot of physical, occupational, and speech therapy to get me talking again. The thing I remember most clearly, however, was being bald for a month. I hated people staring at me and the huge scar across the top of my head. Fortunately, I'm no longer bald and am not too traumatized anymore by the brain surgery. My doctors did a great job.
Returning to my two questions, however: I'd say no to both. Although I lived through both of these traumatic events, the parts that really "stuck" were the really really bad parts. I faintly remember the gains and successes I made after brain surgery (when I took my first steps after surgery without a walker, all twelve of the nurses in the ward cheered for me!) but the ones that really stand out to me are the negative events. And with Annie, I remember the day I found out she was gone more clearly than most of the happy memories. Unfortunately, the memories made during strong emotions and rough waters have a stickier and thicker "glue" and those memories will most likely stick to me for the rest of my life.
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