Rick says to Ilsa: I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans… Read more Bogart’s character Rick in Casablanca: is he an optimist or pessimist? →
Chemotherapy stole my concentration, compassion, and creativity. I came home from chemo treatment to find my brain ransacked. Neurons scattered everywhere. My orderly mental filing cabinet of memories ripped apart and discarded in… Read more Restitution for chemotherapy’s criminal tendencies →
Prior to chemotherapy, I had ideas and thoughts like a full cast of characters chattering in my head. Suddenly, I might as well have been acting in a play where I was the only cast member without a script. I tried to follow conversations – people saying blah, blah, blah. Me grappling with how to respond – confusion and silence – duh nothing going on in my mind.
Being a brainiac became my identity On meeting me, the usual feedback was: ‘wow you’re smart.’ Never, ‘you’re nice’, or ‘you’re kind’. I got constant reminders that ideas, theories, and knowledge were my contributions to whatever was happening. No one is telling me now how smart I am. Losing capacity to think lucidly, quickly, insightfully, and incisively is a loss that cuts deep. Before and after treatment pictures of my brain might’ve been interesting.