The days are just packed.

A full day, this one.

I had a programming appointment at 9:30 that went very well. It was explained to me that the programming is a balancing act between the manual functions I want to (or need to) perform. In other words, the programming can be optimized for writing, speech, eating, drinking, playing the guitar - any number of functions. The trick is to adjust the programming to strike a balance I'm comfortable with.

"No sweat", I tell them. "Just turn me into a combination of Eric Clapton and Tiger Woods." Howls of derisive laughter.

I'm reminded of Les Paul, who, after a serious auto accident back in the '50s, had his right arm fused in the guitar playing position.

At any rate, I performed quite a number of everyday tasks, and we left the programming as it was when I felt most confident as to what I could do. It's definitely the steadiest I've been in 25 years. Muy bien.

I then did a final follow-up with Dr. Lee (the surgeon) and Deb, his nurse. He was genuinely excited at the success of the procedure, and had me performing tasks (drinking, writing, dialing a phone) as if I were a trained seal. He is a happy man who LOVES what he does.

I left Rochester at about 1:00 this afternoon, with plans to stay in Des Moines tonight. No problems until I selected a hotel - a Quality Inn on University Avenue. The desk clerk (a Mr. Patel) informed me that I was getting the last room, as the Iowa Pork Producer's Council, or some such, was having their convention this week.

Now, I've seen fleabag hotel rooms before, but this one...good heavens, the pillowcases hadn't even been laundered...words fail me...indescribable! I went back to the office, the offending pillow joining me, and checked OUT! Checks of two other Des Moines hotels confirmed the fact that I wasn't staying in the Capital city tonight.

I'm now in a Super 8 (!) 80 miles south of Des Moines in Lamoni. Bucolic farm town. Mr. Patel (!) at the desk tells me that there are three places to eat: Pizza Hut, Subway, and Ruby's Family Inn. And if I want a beer, I'll have to get a six-pack at the Kum & Go next door.

Guh.

Lamoni is a college town, sort of, being the home of Graceland University. (!) I decide to take my chances close to the campus with Subway. As I near the location, I see a place called "Characters Pub & Grill" that's open. Now why didn't Mr. Patel mention this obvious gem? Adventurous me decides to check it out.

It turns out that Characters is quite the place for burgers, wings & beer. Rick, the owner, has won "Best Wings" at the Iowa State Fair three years running; had the trophies to prove it. They were to die for. I filled up on a better-than-average burger and a couple of cold ones. Rick was a genial host, and the food was excellent. Couldn't have asked for better anywhere. To top it off, Rick and "Tiny" (a regular - you can't make this stuff up!) invited me back for their Thursday Night Texas Hold 'Em game at 10:00. $20 buy-in. Prolly won't make that, though.

It's nearly 9:45. I'm going to read for a bit. I'll finish up tomorrow.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

June Is Bustin' Out All Over

It's 10 'til six, and I've made landfall in room 773.

Minnesota is like one's dog. No matter what sort of day/week/month/year I might have had, what transgressions I might have committed in the intervening time between visits, what travails might have befallen me, Minnesota welcomes me! The sign says so. Nice to know.

I'm back in Rochester to reprogram my neurostimulator to eliminate the tremors as completely as possible. Enough time has elapsed since the surgery that all swelling of the brain should be gone. I have regressed since the initial programming in April, but I was told that would happen. I've got my handy-dandy remote at the ready, with all voltage tweaks that I've done duly noted on the official scorecard provided me. The adventure begins again at 9:30 tomorrow.

I made the trip by myself this time. Completely unremarkable, except for the remarkable gas mileage I managed in my S2000. She outdid herself; nearly 30 MPG! I would attribute this to exceedingly skillful driving, but it seems more likely the result of a day-long 30+ MPH tailwind. Just the same, atta girl.

It's interesting to note that the farther north I drove, the cheaper the gas became. That's the direct opposite of the way it used to be.

The obligatory Rest Stop shot. Compare to February 26 and March 19.

It's now 9:15. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, but I'm gassed. Ready for the Biz bag. In my younger days, I could drive forever without fatigue; not anymore. Nine & 1/2 hours and I'm through. I've had a burger and a beer at Newt's, and a visit to Barnes & Noble yielded a copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys. I'm taking it into my man-cave to bed with me. I'll post again tomorrow.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

It's always something...

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon

Well, let's see...minor things first. I'm doing well with the bionics. A bit of the tremor has returned, so I suspect the brain is less swollen. I'll make an appointment in about a month to return to Mayo for another programming session. I am able to write a sentence or two, and sign my name with legible handwriting that looks a lot like my writing from 25 years or so ago. I can apply toothpaste to brush, stab food with a fork, pick up a pen and other tasks that were well nigh impossible a month ago. Small victories. Yay.

Scott is graduating from high school in a month. Doesn't seem possible. He and girlfriend Marissa attended prom Saturday night. Yay.



On a sour note, I had to take Bobbi to the emergency room today with chest pains. It's a heart problem, but there doesn't seem to be any damage. They're keeping her tonight, and a cardiologist will check her tomorrow. She's feeling fine, but we mustn't take chances.

A lighter addendum to above sour note: This evening, while Scott, Marissa, Marge (the fabled one), Becky, Tracy and I were all in Bobbi's room, an apparent roof leak caused a paint "pimple" in the ceiling near the door. The blister-like thing split, and like an inverted volcano, spilled about a half-gallon of water onto the floor. Vigorous mopping by nurses/aides/techs. Hospital staffers from everywhere appeared to view the carnage. Another paint pimple was visible, and some enterprising member of the janitorial staff put a very large trash can beneath it to catch the jetsam when this one, too, burst. But we were proactive. Using my McGyver Autograph Model Swiss Army knife, Scott pierced the darn thing, spilling its contents and eliminating the tortuous wait for the inevitable. The whole affair was really pretty funny. Maybe you had to be there.

At any rate, Bobbi should be coming home tomorrow. My sister and brother-in-law are visiting from Maryland this week. Yay.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

The Six Million Dollar Man

Now, if I just LOOKED like Lee Majors...

Well, we cheated death yet again and made it home. And I AM bionic. Thursday morning, the zapper was programmed and I was introduced to my neat-o multi-function control unit. I was given (limited) programming access; the rig is now under my (limited) control. I can change the voltage. BWAA-HA-HAH!

The programming took about two hours. When I switch the system on ("Set phasers to stun..."), there is the oddest quasi-electrical buzzing in my cheeks, neck and arms; a feeling that defies description. The sensation subsides in a few seconds, but it's really pretty cool. If one watches as the unit ramps up to full power (warp factor nine), it's very easy to see the tremor disappear. It's quite the show. I'm thinking of doing birthday parties and bar mitzvahs.

A visit with Dr. Lee was next on the agenda. He's not only a kick-ass brain surgeon, but a joyous guy who's extremely easy to talk to. He absolutely LOVES what he does; he's definitely living in his sweet spot. He ran and found a programming unit and we played "electro-joy" some more. Great fun. While he scurried about in search of the programmer, we spoke with a couple of residents he's training and they consider themselves fortunate to be under Dr. Lee's tutelege. Even the most jaded staff people have nothing but good things to say about his people skills as well as his surgical ones. I'm pretty damn lucky.

I'll have to go back for more program tweaking in a couple months, as the brain is still somewhat swollen. This, too, is normal. I'm told that although right now my right hand is rock steady and my left nearly so, we can do even better. It's difficult to impart what an immediate change this makes in the way I perform so many tasks. I have to relearn a number of things.

I have already discovered that my hands refusing to go where I aim them has not been the only roadblock to my playing the guitar and banjo; I am HORRIBLY out of practice. For a long time, it's been pointless to try. Anyhow, no chops. I'll get 'em back, though.

I get to resume an unrestricted activities schedule this week. I'm looking forward to Tai Chi and perhaps golf, if it doesn't snow. The low tonight is forecast to be 20 degrees. It's April. It's Southwest Missouri. That's just not right.

DANG it! I forgot to obtain a set of the photos taken during the surgery; I'll have to work on that next week as well. Meanwhile, I'll keep relearning stuff, and I'll let you know how's tricks in a few days.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Back to the Future

OK, I dumped the whole "Day XX" thing; didn't make much sense anymore, anyway.

We're headed back to Rochester again tomorrow morning so that the staff can program my zapper - uh, the neurostimulator. I've heard all manner of suggestions for special add-on features to my bionic gear; some quite amusing. At least ONE of my friends doesn't see the humor in a remote control Tom. Upon reflection, I suppose I am mostly serious about it all; it's important to me.

I know I'm looking forward to the programming process. As the brain has healed, there has been some regression of the effects on the tremor; I'm fairly shaky just now. Dr. Lee predicted the phenomenon, though, and assures me that we'll still eliminate it with the programming of the unit. As he told me during and shortly after the surgery, "We got 'em right where we want 'em" (referring to the brain implants). I'm still going to lobby hard for programming access myself.

So, 20 or so hours of driving sandwiched around a couple hours of establishing and fine-tuning the stimulus parameters. I reiterate - a small price to pay! And with any luck, this will be the last trip for awhile. I can't wait to (try to) play the guitar.

I'll be back with notes on what happened in a day or two; so stay tuned - don't touch that dial! Dial?! Geez, does that age me or what?

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day 12 - Better Late Than Never

Sorry. My bad. Mea culpa.

How rude of me to leave you hanging. My body has been telling me to do nothing, so nothing I did. And I had promised to write. Shame on me.

But I think I needed the time. This experience has been more physically draining that I thought it would be, and I'm still trying to get my hands around it mentally and emotionally. I feel more like myself this morning, so I thought I'd let you know that.

We arrived home at about 5:00 Saturday afternoon, having taken two days to make the trip. Poor Bobbi had to drive all the way. Since then, I've done NOTHING. And I refuse to feel any guilt. I've spent time with my friend Percodan (whence the name? Nothing about its effects even hint at "perk" - it does sometimes make one feel like some guy named "Dan", though.)

My tremor is greatly improved. I can already write legibly and drink with one hand. I'm excited about my return visit to Mayo April 5 to program the neurostimulator (the part that's in my chest) to optimize the effect.

I plan on hanging out at home today and tomorrow, and retuning to work on Wednesday. but before I do, a few thoughts and observations:

Sometimes, the whole escapade seems surreal and dreamlike. I keep looking around for the runny watches.

It's unfortunately corny that this took place at the beginning of Spring, for it really is a metamorphosis.

If you need something medically serious done, get a referral to The Mayo Clinic.

I value my family and friends more than I can ever hope to express.

Lars is a good man.

I'm ready for a return to normalcy.

I'll publish an update or two in the intervening time before the zapper is programmed, if you're interested. Sort of a progress report.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day 9 - Anybody get the number of that truck?

"It's alive! It's alive!" - Dr. Frankenstein

*WHEW!* That was a tough day. As I write this I'm back in the hotel room, and couldn't be happier about it. I'm also heavily under the influence of Percodan, so please excuse any and all ramblings.

The surgery went really well. Dr. Lee was pleased, and even with the generic programming of the unit, there is tremendous improvement. I've already applied toothpaste to a brush without bracing both arms, and have drunk water from a glass using one hand. Marvelous! A medical miracle!

It was quite an involved process; we arrived at St. Mary's Hospital at 5:20 AM and I left the recovery room at about 6:15 PM. Long day. The most challenging aspect of the day was dealing with the "halo" - I was essentially immobilized for nearly eight hours. I'm not complaining, mind you - merely an observation.

I am, if at all possible, even more excited about the outlook than prior to the procedure. I have an appointment April 5 to set the program parameters to maximize the effect.

Currently, I am a hurtin' unit. The "pouch" in my upper chest is quite tender, as is my head and my neck and the area behind my left ear where the leads are buried. I just feel generally beat up. Small price to pay.

I've mostly been dozing since being released at about 12:40 this afternoon. Room service has been a most welcome friend. I realize that this post isn't up to my usual standards of jocularity; forgive me.

I can feel the warm waves of support you have so generously offered me, dear reader, and it is heartwarming. It is most uplifting to know that you care. I promise I'll write more tomorrow when I'm a little less logy.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day 8 - We have ignition...

"Come writers and critics
Who prophesy with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin..." - Bob Dylan

OK, things are under way. The first appointment this morning was with the device programming folks. The Activa unit will be turned on and functioning before we return home, but due to changes as the brain heals, I'll have to return here to adjust the parameters about two weeks after the surgery. Other programming adjustments may have to be made in the coming few months.

Next up was a meeting with Debb Gorman, Dr. Lee's nurse. I learned what to expect tomorrow in great detail, down to a map of where all the surgical personnel would be standing. They are nothing if not thorough! I also learned that as of this morning, Dr. Lee was still in Korea. Hmm...jet lagged brain surgeon? No "OOPS!", please.

I'll have my head immobilized in a "halo" for about five hours. Guh.

The last appointment was a pre-surgical exam. I passed, so woo-hoo! Heart & lung function normal, blood pressure OK, all systems go. I'm to report to surgical admissions at St. Mary's Hospital at 5:30 AM!!! Liftoff soon afterward. I reiterate - I am VERY excited.

This place (The Mayo Clinic and its associated facilities) is amazing. Everything is operated exteremely efficiently, yet is oddly unhurried. It is NOTHING like medical care at home. The mission statement, by the original Dr. Mayo, is "The needs of the patient come first." The staff takes it very seriously.

But the staff members are wonderful. It's obvious they enjoy their work. We've had a lot of laughs, not unlike the banter I like to engage in with restaurant staff. The difference is, these are dedicated professionals who don't bring the wrong salad dressing.

We're headed for an early dinner at Macaroni Grill. I have to fast tonight, and a 4:00 AM wake up call will come awfully early. As they say, We'll be right back after these important messages.

ADDENDUM: While at dinner, our car (specifically the driver's side mirror) was clobbered by a Suburban. That's the bad news. The good news - the driver left his information in a note on the windshield - and his name is Lars. I love Minnesota.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day 7 - On the Road Again

Hello again!

This isn't actually day seven. There have been intervening days when nothing of note happened, so I'm discounting them entirely. It's my blog; I can do that.

I'm very, very excited about the impending "procedure". I have a difficult time imagining how I'll feel and react if the results are what everyone (including the surgical staff) expects. How much stuff will I be able to do right away? What must I relearn? Will I reeeeaaly stop shaking??? I'm all a-twitter.

Today's drive was mostly a no-brainer. The climate is MUCH more temperate this trip - sunny and 45 degrees when we arrived in Rochester. Compare the photo below (a rest stop north of Ames) with the one from the "Day One" episode. Your assignment, should you decide to accept it, is to find the eight differences between these photos that I'm thinking of. No hints.



We learned some things last trip. Ergo, we have a nicer room at the Kahler, better parking, and NO SICKNESS! We've had the requisite steak at Michael's (highly recommended) and are in for the night.

The sign atop our hotel, in a glass darkly:


My first appointment is at 8:00 in the morning. None of this can happen soon enough.

Thanks for your continued interest. Please tell those who might share that interest that the blog is up and running again!

Day 6 - Be it ever so humble...

Home again; one trip down, one (at least) to go.

When we had arrived Friday at the palatial Days Inn of Albert Lea, the weather was indeed awful. Nowhere to go.


But we awoke on Saturday in Albert Lea to a beautiful, sunny, cold (12 degrees F) and windy (>30 mph) morning. Off we went. Traveling I-35 was ummm, challenging and adventurous from the Iowa line to Des Moines. Blindingly bright sun, ice, howling winds, blowing snow, drifts, and vehicles piloted by idiots contributed to the white-knuckled fun. We counted six tractor-trailers and 91 other vehicles stranded off the road. A dozen or so of these were NOT resting on the wheels. 40 mph was about as fast as I ever drove. That 150 mile stretch ate up about five hours.


After lunch in Des Moines, however, the drive south was normal, or nearly so. It was easy to see almost exactly where the band of snow ended. Just an inch or two had fallen from Des Moines southward, and it was gone by the time we crossed the Missouri line. After the requisite casino stop in Kansas City, we arrived home at around 11:00 pm.

In re-reading my earlier posts, I was a bit stingy with the info regarding the upcoming surgery - chalk it up to my physical condition at the time. So here's what's going to take place: Drs. Matsumoto and Lee will present my case to the committee for approval on Tuesday, March 6. The operating theater, located in St. Mary's Hospital, will then be booked for "The Tom Fahrig Show Featuring Special Guest Star Dr. Kendall Lee & Friends" on March 21 (target date) or March 28 (rain date). I'm to show up the day before for dress rehearsal, and by popular demand will be held over one night for observation.

The system to be used is called Activa® Therapy, by Medtronic®. The implantation of the electrodes in the brain is done under local anesthesia, so that I can provide real time feedback as to effects (intended and otherwise). The neurostimulator (the controller/battery pack) is implanted in my shoulder under general anesthesia. I cannot emphasize how much I'm looking forward to the results.

I'll add another post when I hear from the team at Mayo.

I'm thoroughly enjoying this chronicling of my admittedly insignificant thoughts about my big adventure, and am tickled when I receive comments and messages. Thanks ever so much, dear reader, for your thoughts, prayers and well wishes. I am humbled.

Tom

Day 5 - Long Day's Journey Into White

Well, we just HAD to try.

This morning (Friday), we had shaken off most of the effects of Paul Bunyan's revenge, and despite reports that stated that I-35 was still closed, headed homeward. Hopeful reporters thought that the highway through Iowa would be open by afternoon. So damn the torpedoes.

We motored along for about 75 miles to Albert Lea (2.5 hours!) before we were shooed off I-35 (below).


We waited around at a truck stop for a while (interesting character studies...) and learned that I-35 would not be opened until this evening, if at all today. Still snowing and blowing in Iowa. We made the mad dash from motel to motel, landing the presidential suite here at the 5-star Day's Inn. I think we were charged $800.00 for the room. Any old port in a storm.

We'll hang out here for the night, and try AGAIN tomorrow. Have a great weekend!

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Days 3 & 4 - Nothing's ever simple

Well, well, well.

Wednesday began as another great day. The only appointment I had was with the team who programs the control unit/battery pack that will power my little bionic apparatus. The meeting was informative, and I evidently asked the right questions; it's possible (with the surgeon's permission) to give me at least limited programming access to the device.

So I was done with meetings by 10:00 AM. Since serious snowfall had been forecast for Wednesday evening and Thursday, we drove around town to see what we could see.

Minnesotans are sticklers for postal accuracy...

Minnesotans are a hardy people...


We came back to the hotel at about 3:00, and I sat down to write the day's blog. At that very moment, I was hit with either a virulent rapid onset stomach virus or food poisoning. I don't know which, and it really doesn't matter. Necessary actions are the same. Anyway, I haven't been able to get far from a bathroom since, and Bobbi joined me in sick bay about two hours later. Our night wasn't much fun.

This morning, I dragged myself to meet with Dr. Lee, the surgeon; a very impressive guy. We're shooting for March 21 as D-Day. He'll do both parts of my surgery on the same day to minimize my time away from home. I'm very excited!

We would have preferred to head south right after that meeting, but neither of us can currently be too far removed from "the facilities"' particularly timewise. In addition, I-35 is currently closed from Albert Lea to Ames. We'll try again tomorrow.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day Two - Let the Games Begin

They don't mess around at The Mayo Clinic.

Early this morning, I had testing and screening done by a neurological resident, Dr. Mark Cooper. That was immediately followed by a consultation with Dr. Cooper and the vice head of the neurology department, Dr. Joseph Matsumoto. Their diagnosis is grade 3.5-4 Essential Tremor (4 is as high as it goes), unresponsive to pharmacological treatment. Dr. Matsumoto informed us that I am indeed a prime candidate for surgery. This is the best news EVER!

The recommended procedure is called Deep Brain Stimulus (DBS), and will be performed here at Mayo. A tiny device (perhaps two devices) is/are implanted in my alleged brain, with a battery and switch inserted in my upper chest, near the shoulder. This is a newer, safer, and more effective surgery than the one with which I was familiar, wherein brain cells are destroyed to eliminate the tremor.

God bless the Energizer Bunny.

The only thing in doubt, I think, is the timeline. I don't think the surgery will take place on this visit. Dr Matsumoto must clear the procedure with the Neurosurgery Committee (about 30 doctors who meet weekly), and scheduling must be done. I keep telling everyone in sight that I'm ready NOW, dammit! The hotel folks are probably tired of hearing that. I'll know more later.

I next had blood drawn for a chemistry workup. Then a visit with Speech Pathologists Drs. Kimberly Bocian and Edythe Strand. "Why speech pathology?", I hear you ask. It seems that the balancing act inherent in this surgery is to mitigate the tremor without negatively impacting my ability to speak. Yeah, even from here, I can hear all the jokes about "No great loss there." At any rate, the areas controlling these functions are next-door neighbors in the brain; so today's testing established a baseline for my normal speech functions.

My last appointment for the day was an MRI to make sure that there are no tumors, aneurysms, moths or other abnormalities in my li'l puddin' head. I'm done for the day, and Bobbi and I might just have to have a nice dinner to celebrate our suddenly brighter future.

Tune in tomorrow; I have a consultation scheduled with Dr. Lee, the neurosurgeon who'll perform the operation. I can't wait!

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Day One - Road Trip!

I wanted to leave at 7:00 AM; that was the plan. There had been a nasty storm across Iowa on Sunday, and I feared some slow going. I just wanted to get an early start as a hedge against weather related delays.

It didn't happen, though.

We hit the road at about 7:30, which wasn't too far off the mark, but while buzzing along US 71 just south of Lamar, MO (about 40 miles from home), I realized I had left the folder with my admissions papers and medical records on my dresser. Guh. Remembered the iPod and camera and Cheez-Its and beef sticks but forgot THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT THING! Crap! Crapcrapcrap!

As I turned around at the next opportunity, I'm thinking that this little faux pas will mean that we'll be pulling in to Rochester at dark-thirty. But a frantic call was placed to Marge, our angel of a friend and neighbor, and she agreed to burglarize the house, grab the folder, and meet us in Carthage. The quick transfer that occurred there, on a deserted Arby's parking lot, looked for all the world like a drug deal. But we got the folder, and only lost about an hour's time. Everyone should be so lucky as to have a Marge. You can't have this one, though.

The rest of the drive was remarkably uneventful. There was snow on the ground beginning just north of Kansas City, and its depth increased (and the temperature decreased) in direct proportion to the increasing latitude. All of I-35, however, was clean and dry. In central and northern Iowa, there was sobering evidence of the earlier storm's severity; dozens of vehicles off the highway and undriveable - a few resting on some part other than the wheels. I'm REALLY glad we made this trip today instead of yesterday. Because of our stuttering start, there would be no stopping for a relaxing meal in Des Moines. But we did stop for a nice roadside picnic lunch a bit later, just north of Ames...

Incidentally, XM radio ROCKS on a long trip.

Arrived in Rochester at 6:00 and did a little exploring - the downtown area is honeycombed with a pedestrian "subway" that connects the medical facilities with several of the hotels, including this one. It's full of restaurants, retail shops, (including an inordinate number of jewelry stores!), gift shops and such. Found a bar, had a beer, had a sandwich, and cruised on back to the room.

The medical miracle lifts off at 7:00 tomorrow morning, and I'm still seeing highway coming at me, so...it's a night.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom

Episode IV - A New Hope

Well, hi there.

I think we all know each other, so I'll dispense with the formalities.

You, as one of the "chosen few", will be able to follow my big adventure - a junket to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. The purpose of the trip is to explore the possibility that something can be done to repair or effectively treat my ET (that's short for Benign Familial Essential Gross Motor Tremor), a condition that's a progressive but non-fatal cousin to Parkinson's disease.

Those of you close to me know that what was once merely an annoyance has progressed to the point of fairly serious debilitation and has become a source of frustration for me. Logically and emotionally extended, it's also become a source of frustration for those of you close to me. I want it to go away. YOU want it to go away. It occupies WAY too much of my time and thought.

The physical reality is that I have a difficult time performing tasks that should be taken for granted. I was blessed at birth with a fair amount of athleticism and grace, but my movements nowadays can best be described as herky-jerky. It has become difficult and embarrasing to eat in public, and some dishes are well nigh impossible (I'd have soup on the ceiling!). I must drink with two hands. I can no longer play my treasured musical instruments (which I once did professionally). I can no longer build nor fly my R/C airplanes or put a model railroad locomotive on the track. I cannot write. I cannot tee up a golf ball (and my putting has become quite the show - talk about the "yips"...). I have difficulty applying toothpaste to a brush (once that's accomplished, however, I don't need an electric toothbrush!). The list goes on.

And don't get me started on the occasional insensitive boob who asks, "What're YOU so nervous about?" Ha. Yeah, good one.

All of this may sound like a bunch of whiny complaints. Perhaps they are, but I'd like to think that I can regain these small skills. I'd give my right arm to be able to use my right hand.

I've seen multiple local neurologists seeking treatment for the condition. Each has basically trotted out the same "cookbook medicine" handful of pharmaceuticals well documented in the literature as treatment for ET. I needn't bore you with these. Suffice it to say that their effect has been at best marginal, and these doctors eventually threw up their hands. I finally visited with a certain neurologist, Dr. Ahmed Robbie, who realizes the seat of all medical knowledge is NOT Joplin, Missouri. After the usual drug suspects again produced poor results, he told me that I needed "world-class" treatment, and offerred referrals to Johns Hopkins, Barnes, UCLA, or Mayo. I chose Mayo because of relative proximity, reputation, and personal experience.

I'm hopeful; I think that this is my best chance to markedly improve the quality of my life, so I intend to chronicle this trip. And you, dear reader and friend or relation, are invited along for the ride.

Thanks for your interest,
Tom