You may or may not know that I work in a Movement Disorders Clinic as an Occupational Therapist. “What the hell is that?” you may ask. Well, the explanation of what I actually do is fodder for an entirely different post, but I’ll tell you a bit about the program and the patients that I see, if you’re interested. Is anyone still reading this?
I work in an out-patient multi-disciplinary clinic (read: neurologists, neurophysiologist, physiotherapists, speech-language pathologist, social worker, resource nurse, and myself, the O.T. all work together) where we treat patients with chronic neurological disorders. 60% of the people I see have Parkinson’s disease. About 20% have Huntington’s disease. The rest have various rare and, in my opinion, fascinating movement disorders. All of these people except for those with Parkinson’s will likely die within 5-10 years, depending on their disorder. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?
If you’ve made it this far, my point is that I absolutely love learning about neurophysiology. You really appreciate how delicate and complex the machine that is the human brain is when you see the subtle things that can go wrong with it and throw everything off course with a myriad of different effects, depending on where the malfunction is.
If you haven’t died from boredom yet, just wait. I find the basal ganglia absolutely fascinating. For people with movement disorders, it is this brain system which is malfunctioning, for the most part, in addition to a few other areas depending on the disease. Did you know that Parkinson’s and Huntington’s are basically neurophysiological opposites to each other? In layman’s terms, the basal ganglia is “under-functioning” in Parkinson’s disease, basically making people move like rocks. In Huntington’s disease, the basal ganglia is “over-functioning,” over-stimulating the cerebral cortex to create the symptoms of chorea, which is from the Greek for dance-like movements. In other movement disorders, symptoms similar to Parkinson’s happen, but there is much more widespread deterioration in areas such as the brainstem, which controls your involuntary functions like breathing, digestion, bladder control, blood pressure and such.
Basically what I’m saying is that you don’t appreciate the amazing piece of art that’s between your ears until something goes wrong with it. You know how you can learn about how a radio or car engine works by taking it apart and putting it back together? Especially if you forget a piece? That’s what’s fun about learning about the brain when some parts aren’t working right. Now, the basics of neuroanatomy and neurophysiology are not new to me. I took several university courses on the stuff and got to poke around with cadaver brains in the process. But it’s so much more amazing to learn about these things when you see it in front of you, “in live motion.” I’ve worked mainly as a general practitioner for the last 3 years, so I am now revelling in my neuro specialty. I was bored to tears when I used to work with a lot of geriatric orthopedic patients. I mean, how exiting and complex can you make a hip fracture out to be? The brain is so cool. I had a stint last year working in a stroke and brain injury program which was just as great. If I had the money (some days I think I have the patience, too), I’d love to go back to school like a lot of my O.T. classmates did and get an M.D. Then I’d do a neurology fellowship. But I should stay faithful to the profession I’ve chosen and just get my Master’s degree in O.T. I need a decent education on research methods, anyhow. If anyone wants to donate for my academic career, I’m collecting.
Wow, if you made it this far, you must truly be as pathetic a neuro geek as myself. I hold you in high esteem.
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