This is our second encounter with the writer Siri Hustvedt,
first coming across her in BASS 1990, with the short story Mr. Morning.
This story comes along in my life during a period of time
when I find myself fascinated by the human mind.
I suppose the intense interest recently (within the last
couple of years) came about after the death of my father from early onset Alzheimer’s.
To zero-in on a specific interest in the human mind, I would have to say that
it would be the decline of a once healthy mind.
Through my college years I was interested in developing
thought through various philosophies (mostly eastern) and then the transformative
power that an individual has over their mind if they make conscious efforts to
change behaviors - I am still fascinated
by this as I wrestle with various aspects of self- discipline.
We take our brain health for granted.
I don’t think we respect what our mind does
for us on a daily basis, what it is capable of, and how we can take advantage
of its power. We don’t seem to pay attention to it until something goes wrong –
and that’s unfortunate- because sometimes it’s too late.
Is there a way to stack the genetic deck of cards you’ve
been dealt (in terms of brain health)?
The main character of this story finds herself hospitalized
due to severe migraines.
-Here’s where I start to draw lines again from the work of
fiction to events in my life. It’s where I start to feel that the story is more
than a story, it’s a long teachable moment, a forced retreat, a meditation.
It was 28 years ago this month, (March 1991) that my father
visited me for a weekend up at Norwich. He was in Montreal for a conference,
rented a car and drove down to see me. He rented a hotel for us in Burlington
and we spent a cold, cloudy weekend together. This was a very special time for
me as being a freshman up at Norwich, meant that I was basically confined to
campus and to be sprung for the weekend was something very special.
I remember Saturday afternoon, we headed out to lunch, we
were going to grab a couple of slices of pizza. We were in the pizza shop and
he quickly turns to me with his palm pressed against his eye saying that he
needed to get back to the hotel room as he was suffering from a pretty intense
headache. He darted out of the restaurant, I got the pizza slices and headed
back to the room shortly after. I get back to the room and he is on the floor
with the lights out. He said that he just finished throwing up and his head was
pounding – asked me to leave the lights off.
I don’t remember anything after that.
What I do know now, is that he was 45 years old when this
happened. I am now 46. From what I recall, he also mentioned that the migraines
that he had started to suffer were something new and were starting to come more
frequently.
There has been studies recently, linking those that have a
history of suffering from migraines to the development of cognitive impairment –
and I have to wonder, in my father’s case, were these migraines an early
signal?
I do know that he didn’t change his lifestyle in response to
them. He continued to work insane hours without sleep, he didn’t exercise and
his diet had plenty of room for improvement…and his massive consumption of caffeinated
diet soft-drinks was maintained.
So what did this story give me? It transported me back in
time…I feel that once again, the universe is sending me a not-so-subtle hint.
