Thinking Deep

I'm not a deep person.  My emotions and thoughts tend to run close to the surface.  I'm so driven to gather and assimilate data and connect facts that I miss the opportunity to make deeper connections.  Except with math and physics.  But that's a completely different and nerdy tale that would scare real people away.  So I'll let it go... I guess.  Classical literature also escapes me, though I was a fan of "Deep Thoughts with Jack Handey" on Saturday Night Live.  Mr. Handey even had some thoughts about his Grandpa going fishing, but the ending just wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to risk including here.  Google at your leisure.

I even consider myself to be a shallow fisherman.  It's still unbelievably rewarding watching a trout swipe a floating dry fly, even if it misses.  Going under the surface requires a whole new set of skills, which sounds like work.  Do I really want to work when I'm fishing?  Also being male, I'm not exactly predisposed to being a deep thinker.  Scratch, scratch.  Grunt.  Ooo, shiny!

Lately I've been faced with some challenges and choices that have required me to think deep.  Those of you with degrees in English or Journalism might be twitching and barely suppressing the urge to attack with a red pen.  You might be thinking, "You idiot.  You should have written 'required me to think deeply.'"  And you would be correct, yet wrong.  The grammar police might issue a ticket, but I'd convince the judge to dismiss the charges, kinda like that speeding where I play-acted as my own attorney.  Instead of thinking deeply, I've been considering Deep Brain Stimulation, a surgical therapy for Parkinson's Disease.

Here's the ten-thousand foot overview of Deep Brain Stimulation: your head gets locked into a "halo" to make sure you can't move while a neurosurgeon drills a hole in your skull and threads some electrodes down into a targeted region deep in your brain.  These electrodes are then connected to a small device that gets implanted in your chest.   The device applies an electrical signal intended to disrupt a malfunctioning part of the brain that contributes to the muscle rigidity, slowness, and tremors of PD.

Then there's the terrifying bit: most of the surgeries are done with the patient conscious and aware.   The final placement of the electrodes usually involves patient participation, with a test signal being applied as the surgeon moves the leads a fraction of a millimeter at a time.  I have avoided going to the dentist for more than 20 years simply because I can't face the thought of having a tooth drilled.  My skull?  I've cried when discussing this with neurologists.

There are also non-trivial risks associated with the surgery.  Some statistics show a 25% chance of significant "adverse events" during or immediately following surgery.  2% chance of stroke that causes permanent damage or death.  I'll stop the risk analysis here.

Why consider doing this?  As I sit in front of my Macbook, my neck and upper back throb in pain.  Since my meds have worn off for the day, my typing rate is reduced to maybe a quarter of my usual speed.  It would be nice to have some balance again, and not limp around.

Fear has been eating at my energy and self-control.  One of the absolute worst problems that Parkinson's Disease has brought me has nothing to do with movement.  Loss of dopamine has sometimes paralyzed me with anxiety, and that can lead to severe mood problems.  Getting angry with yourself because you see how it affects your family just adds fuel to the fire.  I'm sometimes able to find my way out of this mental maze, but not before accumulating some serious shame baggage.

I arrived at the conclusion that we (Mrs. Fading Angler and I) are going to at least learn whether or not I qualify as a candidate for DBS therapy.  I've had some symptoms that might disqualify me, and if so, I can dismiss the risks, anxiety, and decisions.  For now, I need to go fishing.  I'll be spending the next few mornings and evenings chasing brookies and browns.  Maybe some trout therapy will loosen my knotted psyche.

Safe weekend and tight lines, folks.  I'll be fishing on top.

Epilogue: I have a "no whining" policy for myself here on The Fading Angler, and it looks in retrospect like I came perilously close to violating said policy.  Here's my attempt to make it right without rewriting history: the weekend of fishing helped.

Catches and Misses

"Gotcha!" I yelled to nobody.  As far as I knew, there wasn't another human within a quarter mile or so.  This can only mean one thing:  I've started talking to trout.  This particular one was connected to the other end of my fishing line.  I missed him (or her) a couple of times before I finally set the hook with decent timing.  The fish ran back at me after I pulled it away from the willow where I'm sure it wanted to hide.  My line went slack because I wasn't fast enough, so I was sure it had self-released when the tension was lost in the line.  In short order, the eight-inch brook trout was in hand and released.  Father's Day was shaping up nicely.  Much better, in fact, than the previous two days, where I'd only managed one little brown each day.  Those were short sessions with several brief hookups, but only one tally mark each day.  No worries.  We anglers can always formulate rationalization and tales of the ones that got away.  I don't mind them getting close and then escaping.  I prefer to identify the species, but I'm in it for the supplemental dopamine.

Trout Trek Part IV - Trout Therapy for Parkinson's Disease?

Before I conclude the Trout Trek 2016 series with the chronicles of Day 2 on the river, I wanted to note an interesting effect that an afternoon of catching big trout had on my normal Parkinson’s Disease symptoms.  I made this same trip on the same weekend the prior year.  Then, it was obvious that Parkinson’s Disease (PD) had progressed enough over the winter season that my already marginal fly casting “skills” were, well, fading.  I am right-hand dominant, and PD randomly (?) selected my right side as my “Parkinson’s Side.”  This simply means that my symptoms started on the right side (a tiny thumb twitch) and are generally more prominent, intense, and conspicuous than on my left.  So, I set about learning to fly cast with my left hand, which I wrote about extensively (see here, here, and here.)

Notice the bent right wrist, a recent symptom of increased muscle
tightness, caused by Parkinson's Disease (click photos to enlarge)

It took six months of effort, nasty self-criticism, and training from patient fishing guides, but my ability to cast with my left arm now far exceeds anything I could ever have done with my right.  I will grudgingly thank PD for this.  It made these two days of fishing in Montana much more enjoyable.  I could reach spots from the back of the boat that were out of reach from the front last year, mend better, and feel good about fishing rather than getting frustrated.  But something even more satisfying happened toward the end of the first day’s float trip down the Missouri River in Montana.

Delayed Gratification

We had a bit of an ordeal getting to Craig.  It's a tale of ups and downs, circles, accidents and equipment failures, snow & sun, fish tails, and interesting Parkinson's reactions.  It's time for bed here, but I'll offer a preview of what's to come next week...

The Fading Angler with guide Joe Bloomquist, showing off
one of MANY double-hookups on Saturday

Until then!

Rowing Against the Current

I'm truly thankful for those of you who stop by from time to time, perhaps hoping to catch something new on the blog.  The catching has been slow lately, and this is disappointing to both of us.  I've been hesitant to explain for a couple of reasons.  First, rule #1: This is a No Whining Zone.  I started writing as a positive outlet during my progression, and I'm gonna keep it that way.  Second... well, there's no other way to say this: stigma.  Once you're painted with a certain stereotypical brush, it's hard to escape the label.

Suffice it to say that I'd love to complete the capstone of the "Opportunity Knocks Twice" series I started earlier in the year.  And I'm making adjustments to build the motivation to get it done.  Yet motivation and desire are far from equivalent.  Research tells us that Parkinson's Disease is a result of dopamine-producing neurons shutting down.  It turns out that dopamine is a fairly important chemical for more than just muscle control.  When those levels drop, quite a few things become more difficult.

When I started writing here in early 2014, I was on my way back from the worst episode that Parkinson's has thrown at me thus far.  It was a physical and mental low.  Poor sleep, dysfunctional memory, and lots of physical pain.  It took a few months of intense work, but I climbed out.  Things aren't as challenging as that episode, but I have work to do.  And I'm doing it.  I hope you'll stick around until I'm back on track and give you something again that might be worth reading.

Maybe I just need to fishing.  I hear trout may be an indirect source of dopamine...