Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Poor frontal lobes.

I got a hand written letter this morning on my way out the door, and it isn't my birthday. Intriguing. I read the bolded top line of the first sheet as I gathered last minute socks and Marmite sandwiches together, then stuffed it in a pocket to read later. It said this:

Study: Using virtual reality to investigate multi-tasking ability in adults with frontal lobe damage.

Excuse me? Frontal lobe damage? Whilst negotiating the front steps with a buggy and baby strapped to my chest, I furiously defended my poor frontal lobes. Damaged? Huh.

I'm all for studies, and I like that I could contribute to improving medical knowledge. And the virtual reality part sounds cool! But I'm surprised at how icky it makes me feel. I mainly plod along in life these days and don't often think about braingate, it certainly doesn't define me. Yet here's this letter. My name languishing somewhere in a database with a big red FRONTAL LOBE DAMAGE flag on it. That doesn't feel so good.

I'm going to do it obviously. just needed to get that off my chest.