* Please don’t use this blog to prepare for neuropsychological testing…the specifics relating to the tests have been changed to avoid any prompting or possible influencing of results on my account…😁
The black line drawing of a piano danced off the page, tormenting me with memory after memory of every previous interaction we had shared. From the plastic toy I couldn’t play as a toddler, to Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’ blasting from Beechy’s top of the range speakers. And yet, mysteriously, it refused to remind me of its name.
“It’s like an organ.” I stammered out, eager to turn the page and continue the test, but Rochelle was having none of that.
“It has another name Todd, a more common name.”
“I know it does…it’s so obvious…but it’s not coming right now, I don’t know why.”
No doubt picking up on my growing frustration, the neuropsychologist kindly allowed me to turn the page where I was greeted by a simple drawing, but an obvious one. “An Elephant.” In my mind I was wiping the sweat off my brow, the first one must have been just nerves…a little test anxiety (the irony of a principal with test anxiety doesn’t escape me.)
I looked up for affirmation from Rochelle and was very relieved to see the gentle nod and hint of a smile. I turned the page with a small sigh of relief.
Another simple black line drawing was presented in front of me. This one was ridiculously easy…so easy…the level of difficulty of this question was … beginner.
“Todd?”
“It’s a nut.” My mind was scrambling for the answer – and knowing it was easy wasn’t helping. Gum nut? No. Chest nut? No. Peanut? No – that’s not even a nut Todd, its a legume, remember….aagh!
“I know you’ll want to know what sort… it’s from an oak tree, squirrels love them and stockpile them for the winter…” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point, this was about testing my cognitive function, and all I could do was develop a warped, version of twenty questions that the neuropsychologist had no intention of engaging in.
I slumped in my chair… statistically I knew it was no more likely for me than for the general population, but now there was only one word swelling in my mind, greedily absorbing all my positivity. How could I possibly expect to run a school with Dementia.
I glanced at the clock.
It was nearly 3pm. My appointment had started two hours earlier, and we were only just starting the test. An eerie, unfamiliar shadow of despair was beckoning me and although grim, there was a comfort within it’s bleak, black presence that was drawing me ever closer.
Rochelle’s voice of wisdom seemed distant at first, but pulled me back into the room. “When did you take your medication last?”
“I am due for my dose at 3pm.”
“And how long does it usually take to start working?”
“Actually, it’s quite quick…within 15 minutes or so.” I finally caught up with her train of thought and leapt aboard! I shook my pills out from their container – two 200mg levodopa tablets and a 200mg entacapone tablet (my most regular cocktail) – grabbed my wife’s pink water bottle, that I had borrowed for the day, and gulped them down.
Rochelle offered to refill the bottle, which gave me a few minutes to breathe and await the miraculous effects of modern medication.
Whether it was the medication, or the kind and gentle prompting from my neuropsychologist, or a combination of the two, my test anxiety – if that is even what it was – seemed to melt away. My clarity of thought improving by the minute and before long I hit my strides and was cruising through the test – I even went back and got ‘the nut’!
The black line drawings, gave way to progressively harder challenges. Testing reading and vocabulary, problem solving, and short term memory. By 4pm Rochelle had tallied up the results and was able to give me the feedback that I had desperately needed to hear. My cognitive function was excellent (despite what my brother’s say) with a particular spike in my ability to think outside the square, which I believe is a good thing…😬.
There was no reason to think that my cognitive function should be an obstacle for the surgery. Another box ticked, but I was utterly drained and regretted driving myself to the test immediately. I needed a hug or at least to be nursed out to the car. Sadly, although I had spent the last three hours exposing my thoughts, challenges and abilities to Rochelle…I knew I couldn’t ask that of her. She did have a request of me though…
And so as I dragged my feet, a little disoriented from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts playing havoc inside my head, I was quietly thankful, knowing that there would now be one more familiar, friendly face in the operating theatre with me.