This post is for one person suffering in a confusional state and not yet heard by the medical profession that Something Is Most Definitely Wrong. In revisit of journal to understand some of the extremes of ‘brain fog’ suffered in 2009 I uneasily recall some of the earliest episodes of how Hashimoto’s Autoimmune Thyroiditis disabled in 1998.
BRAIN FOG
‘Brain fog’ is a kind of catchall phrase to describe cognitive impairment, which varies greatly in presentation of minor to extremes in lack of mental functioning. I have experienced the worst, including inability to recall my own name to burning my hand on a stove burner because I ‘forgot’ I had dialed the stove from OFF to six. [1]
One of the strongest memories I have that I was changing is attempting to handle lecture duties in 1998. In retrospect, I understand. I arrived earlier and earlier to deliver content related to history of First Nations education in Canada. I was losing cognitive ability to handle massive content, which must be taught in a coherent sequence to assist understanding patterns of colonial intrusion and indigenous resistance. This memory I read differently after diagnosis.
DISORGANIZED FORGETFULNESS
In 1998, I had a most beautiful classroom. The room was south facing for a winter term so whatever weak sunlight sprouted added natural light to the day. Believe me this was wondrous break from teaching in a basement, windowless classroom.
The class started at 08:30; never a favourite time of day. Increasingly waking and getting going was an exercise in stumbling about in a disorganized fashion. While I joke about IV-caffeine intake, I was improving ability to drink coffee at any hour and still fall asleep. Given my penchant for efficiency, this ineptitude was disconcerting. Whatever. I spent increasing hours in the coordination of content, which, given the volume of repetition, I should have known the content by heart.
I arrived earlier and earlier to the classroom to put up a detailed outline of the day’s lecture on the chalkboard. I rationalized (I think) that I did it for the students’ benefit. I did not yet understand reasons but it was a coping strategy. I question now why I did not use overheads or handouts? I can only surmise (perhaps, falsely) that these options did not occur to me or I reverted to skill sets I knew from being an elementary school teacher prior to university lectureship.
CHOKING CHALKBOARDS
In retrospect, I understand how carefully I followed the outline. I spoke from the back of the classroom with that lifeline outline in clear view. I needed it to track my line of thought. I do not know if I felt panic. It is difficult to recall emotional state. My mind just goes blank when I prompt memory of emotions. I do wonder ―a decade later ― how students must have felt when presented with such an information dense blackboard each Tuesday and Thursday morning. I do not know. It seems laughably absurd to me now.
I recall scores for student evaluation were the usual, but then, there are no questions asking ‘Do you think the instructor is losing cognitive consciousness?’ or ‘Does s/he put, like, a lot of text on the board?’
SOMETIME DIAGNOSIS IS MISSED DIAGNOSIS
I reread, mull and mutter. I wonder why I did not seek medical assistance. I recall I did. This produces a throaty ggrrhhh. I was a frequent flyer at the Student and Faculty Medical Clinic. I was told: I had a virus. I worked too much. I was overtired. I was depressed. Nothing came back on the lab tests. Such lab reading eventually start leading into surmise one must be depressed. Given my usual clownish nature I had to be quite strong-willed to withstand this diagnosis as final although the events were conspiring to be quite depressing.
At my last visit, I left after non-diagnosis, defeated, bewildered and exhausted of spirit. Somehow, I managed to conclude the term, but just barely, I think.
It would require a few more months to have a general case of hypothyroidism diagnosed. By then I was in a near coma state. It would take an additional year to nail the diagnosis of Hashimoto’s Autoimmune Thyroiditis. It would take additional years to understand I have steroid-responsive HAIT with encephalopathy. This has been a big chunk of my 2009, getting the inflammation under control and then management of steroid side effects.
PERSIST: SIGNAL UNTIL HELP ARRIVES
To the one person who feels that cognitive abilities are not as they were, I declare: ‘Persist to find the answer.’ I know what crazy making self-doubt feels like when answers from credible sources elude. If you see you are using elaborate coping strategies [See above, Re. pre-writing an almost entire lecture on the board], then try to describe what you are doing to someone who will listen. Show them! Act it out. Talk about it redundantly. Mime it. [2]
Doctor shop. I did. Read. I did not understand all of it but I looked for answers. Talk. Moan. Rattle chains. To live in the bush, we are taught, in event of disaster: Keep signalling until help arrives.
[1] "Brain fog" is an all encompassing term for all the brain related impairment that comes with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, including short-term memory loss, difficulty concentrating or focusing, being easily distracted, and slower processing of information. People who report previously unhampered brain function, including few problems with short-term, long-term and memory retrieval, may find themselves feeling like they've lost IQ points . . . Memory problems are troubling. Brain fog goes far beyond not being able to remember conversations, names, dates, or events.” Retrieved 6 Oct. 2009 at http://www.squidoo.com/hashimotos_thyroiditis
[2] In retrospect, I wish I had thought to bring a colleague to my classroom to witness the extent of hand-printed ― with chalk! ― lecture notes. Perhaps, someone would have noticed or, perhaps, I might have been tagged as just another Ivory Tower eccentric. Teaching is an isolated profession. Thus, ‘idiosyncratic’ behaviour can be missed via peer observation.
Tools 
TTFN
