Fun with Head Injuries...

Our daughter was having what we could only assume was some form of migraine headache. After several months of visits to the pediatrician, the pediatric neurologist and a sleep deprived EEG, we were finally at what we hoped would be the final doctor’s appointment for at least six months if not a full year.

Doctor Zinser, the pediatric neurologist, was walking us through all the ins and outs of the “Alice in Wonderland” migraines that our daughter was experiencing.

To make a long story short, especially since this isn’t the true crux of the story, she’s doing fine and hasn’t had a migraine is quite a while.

The real story is about a funny thing that happened while the whole family was with Doctor Zinser.

He had a medical student with him who was simply there to get her feet wet, as it were, in the field of pediatric neurology. Suddenly, Doctor Zinser fires off a question to the student doctor.

“So at what age is the frontal lobe fully developed?”

All eyes shoot across to the student who we had all but forgotten about for the last 20 minutes. “Um…20?” Was the timid, stuttering answer.

“Nope, 25.” Was the somewhat stern reply from Doctor Zinser.

Turning back to us, the parents, but really speaking to the medical student, he said, “Now this is pretty amazing. I’ll gently tap the forehead and due to the fact that she’s only 14 and the frontal lobe of the brain is not fully developed we will see some twitching in her lip and under her eyes.”

He went into much greater detail than this, but it’s not like this happened yesterday, so I have no idea what he said.

Using his reflex mallet he tapped her head and sure enough, the twitching began. I don’t mind telling you I was VERY intrigued.

“What would happen if you did that to me?” I asked without ever taking my eyes off her face.

“Nothing at all. Do you want me to show you?”

The words weren’t even all out of his mouth when, sounding somewhat like a girl who was just ask out for her first date, I gleefully shouted, “Are you kidding? Of course I do!”

As he began tapping my forehead I started to experience what felt like twitching under my eyes.

Melissa told me later that my eyes were actually twitching more my daughter’s had.

He paused, obviously more that a wee-bit puzzled. Melissa said that, while his face never changed expression, she saw in his eyes a look that said, “Oh Crap, something’s wrong, what do I do now?”

That’s when Melissa jumped in and blurted out the words, that saved the day for our doctor friend, “Hugh probably should have told you that he is a diffuse axonal head injury survivor.”

In a blink of an eye, the good doctor's demeanor went from panic, to relief, to interest. And I had to give the streamline version of my head injury story. One I’m sure he’s all too familiar with, but was intrigued by all the same.

He explained that my brain’s frontal lobe must have been pretty severely damaged and other parts of my brain took over and learned to do whatever it is that the frontal lobe does. Therefore, my frontal lobe didn’t have the chance or really even the need to fully develop.

It’s not very often that you get to snap a doctor to attention like that.

Yep, as far as practical jokes go…this head injury thing is turning out to be a gold mine!

And So I've Got This Tree...

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. It is a red oak tree that’s tall with a wonderful spread of branches that create a nice, comfortably shaded sitting area. We have some patio furniture under it and everything looks nice.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. A few months ago this tree, after I rather stupidly cut a low branch off, started leaking sap onto our nice new patio furniture. The sap was leaking out of the spot where I cut the branch off. I simply moved the furniture, and sprayed some black pruning sealant on the stub of the chopped off branch, then went about my business.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. Some days go by and I discover, much to my chagrin, that insects have come and not only eaten through the pruning sealant causing it to leak again, but they have also started boring through the bark on other branches and now my tree is leaking sap in half a dozen other places.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. As it turns out, this tree is becoming somewhat of a sap sprinkler. Each and every day there are new spots on the patio and the furniture and we have bugs of all kinds all around the tree. At this point I begin to get concerned that there may be a chance we could lose our wonderful tree.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. A friend suggests that we call an arborist (or tree doctor as I enjoy calling him) to assess the condition of our now ailing tree. Dr. Matthew, the arborist, comes and makes a “yard-call” to check out our tree. He inspects the sap on the ground and furniture, takes a look up through the branches and says, “Yep, you’ve got boring beetles. They bore holes through the bark and the tree creates the sap to fix the holes. However, the sap is what is attracting all the other bugs, plus more boring beetles. It’s an endless cycle. We could give the tree some injections and that would kill the beetles as well as make the sap that the tree makes taste bad so the boring beetles won’t come back. It will cost about 160 dollars.”

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. After weighing the cost of the anti-boring beetle injections against the cost of dead tree removal and replacement, I decided to go ahead and have the tree doctor administer his medication. He came, made the injections and in 48 hours the tree was leaking much less sap and things were getting back to normal…or so it seemed.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. A couple of weeks pass and the tree’s sap leakage is right back to the amount that it was before the injections. So I call Dr. Matthew and he comes back for his second yard-call. He couldn’t find any trace of the boring beetles, but after scraping, smelling and probably even tasting several bark samples, our tree doctor came back with this diagnosis. “What you have here is a fungus, but not just any fungus. Now, this isn’t a fungus that is usually found in red oak trees, that’s what’s so fascinating! Your tree’s bark smells like apple cider that means it’s in the fermentation process. What’s happening is the insects that have been coming to eat the sap have introduced some kind of yeast to the tree. And so the sugars in the sap, combined with the yeast from the bugs is fermenting to create alcohol. Basically, your tree is making beer.”

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. And now, living in my tree are a bunch of alcoholic bugs who are spending their days lapping up keg after keg of my homemade tree beer. Not to mention the fact that our two baby opossums, the ones from the grill, have made this tree their home and have also been eating the sap. Which explains why their little squeals sound slurred and they’ve been seen staggering around with bloodshot eyes.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio. According to my tree’s doctor, this condition isn’t life threatening for the tree and there’s nothing you can do but wait and hope it stops. Our tree is just an easy fix for all the alcoholic critters I’ve created in the neighborhood.

And so I’ve got this tree growing right in the middle of my patio.

And for now...it’s open bar!