My most unusual gift ever, was a little brain shunt. I didn’t actually get it for Christmas; I received it back in the summer. Since it’s working well more than twenty-five years later, it is one of my best gifts—even counting Christmas.
I had never known anybody who had a brain shunt, so I concluded that people who get one don’t live long. I would have felt better if someone would have yelled out, “Hey everybody, I am really enjoying my brain shunt!” But not a word!
Mine fits just under my scalp on the back corner of my head. After describing it to a friend, I asked if he would like to feel my shunt? He said, “Yeah, have you got it in the car?”
Some people don’t want to feel it. When someone does, I feel very close to the person while they are feeling it! I guide them all I can: “Can you feel that little ridge on the back left corner of my head?” As soon as they locate it I tell them not to mash it too hard or my ears will bleed—they jerk away their hand. (I always get a laugh with that one!)
After they realize that I was kidding, they usually say something like, “Yeah, that’s neat. The motor is very quiet, too, isn’t it? I can’t even feel it vibrate.”
I explain that there are no moving parts, no bells and whistles, and it doesn’t go “bump in the night.” There are no exposed wires, buttons, cranks, or handles; no belts and pulleys. It doesn’t activate garage doors when I drive through a neighborhood. I tell them I paid extra to get the silent, gravity-flow model so I can lead in silent prayer. Some are impressed; others wonder. (All the while, I’m having fun!)
Almost everyone asks about headaches. I tell them, “I didn’t get it because of headaches. If I have a headache, I take Tylenol. (I’ve only had one headache in twenty-five years.)
I explain that I got it because of loss of short-term memory resulting from a severe concussion in an auto accident. When they ask, “How long have you had that problem?” I respond, “What problem?”
Then I explain: “I couldn’t remember a person’s name right after being introduced. Or I would look up a phone number and forget it before I could dial. Or I’d want to call a name and couldn’t remember it.” Frequently, one will say, “Oh! That happens to me all the time.” I tell them maybe they need a brain shunt like mine.
One of my big concerns as I anticipated surgery was that half my head would be shaved. I remember the nurse coming toward me with what appeared—in my prone position—to be four-foot long electric sheers. She gave me half of a Kojak special—right down to my scalp. To everyone who took delight in telling me that I looked like Kojak (Theo Kojak of the old TV show), I said, “I’m making a list of people who want to have their head shaved to look like Kojak. May I add your name to my list?”
Did you know it takes six to eight weeks for hair to over-come the “four-foot-sheering” and to reestablish itself?
I don’t have any regrets about getting my shunt. I got the gravity-flow model and I have no fear of the motor backfiring and blowing out my brains. I don’t have to worry about it moving around, about slippage, unraveling, splitting, or buckling up on me. That’s a lot to be thankful for at Christmas.
