If I Only Had a Brain

Discovering in my late 50s that I have some dead cerebellum; could it be the source of my excessive earworms? And what does Billy Squier have to do with it?

About three months ago I started getting constant intense headaches.

At first, I assumed they were tension headaches. They tended to be worse later in the day and were exacerbated by screens and bright lights. I knew they weren’t migraines.

But then the headaches began waking me up in the middle of the night. And they would occur even when I wasn’t on devices much at all.

So I called my doctor and she suggested I get a CT scan. By the time I could get one two weeks later, the headaches more or less abated. I tend to lean in the direction of hypochondria and assumed I had overreacted. But since I had the appointment, I figured I’d still go.

The scan was simple and uneventful and I went on with my week without further concern.

Eventually I received a call from a nurse in neurology who said that the scan showed something that indicated what looked like a stroke or maybe a cyst. They tended to look similar. I should get an MRI to be sure.

Jump ahead a few weeks and I’m now getting an MRI with IV contrast. It’s a bit more involved than the CT scan but relatively easy and I spent the hour conjuring some mental counter rhythms to the loud banging of the MRI machine.

A day or two later I got another call from a different nurse telling me that the results of the MRI showed that I had a stroke, that it was not a cyst. She said it was a right PICA infarct of the cerebellum. She asked me if I was having any issues with balance and/or speech, which I had not. All the lifestyle factors related to stroke — diet, exercise, smoking, high blood pressure — were not an issue for me. I eat well, I exercise, I don’t smoke and my BP is good. It made no sense.

Of course, I did what most of us do now in these modern times. I searched on Dr. Google. I looked up all the big words and strange acronyms on the test results, and from most accounts, it seemed like I should have had some actual symptoms if I indeed had a stroke.

Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

I met with my primary care doctor a few days later and she suggested I wear a cardiac rhythm monitor for a week and get a transthoracic echocardiogram and a carotid ultrasound. And meet with a neurologist of course.

PICA strokes (and others too I imagine) often are the result of a clot coming from somewhere else in the body, namely the heart. So these tests are to check for any abnormalities or clogs (not the shoe, but I would love it if the nurse called me to say that they found a rainbow Croc).

Meanwhile, I was advised to take a baby aspirin every day, simply because they taste so good! I mean, I get why they don’t want drugs to taste like candy, but why do babies get all the delicious pills?

baby eating pills - what AI was meant for

A couple of weeks later I completed all the tests. I shaved my chest for the heart monitor. I was feeling fine the entire time, though every bout of indigestion or gas had me frantically worried that it was my heart.

Other than a slightly thickened mitral valve, all the tests come back normal.

A week or so later, I met with the neurologist.

He projected my brain scans on a big monitor and then 3D zoomed into my cerebellum. I could see that 3/4 of it was white and bulbous (or blobous to my eyes). But the lower right quadrant was black. Like it was missing.

“That’s the dead tissue,” he said. Or at least that’s what I remember.

As a person of a certain age, I know some memory issues are normal. I get that. I’m convinced that my memory has been more unreliable than normal for a while. Have I been attributing my forgetfulness these past few weeks to the asymptomatic stroke (or whatever it is; it’s still undetermined)?

In other words: do I say to my wife, “I’m sorry I forgot to pick up Bernie’s dog food. It’s because I’m missing a quarter of my cerebellum.”

You bet I do.

The neurologist tests my balance and depth perception. He asks all the expected questions about family history (no strokes as far as I’m aware), and whether I remember any head trauma at any point in my life (nope; I got hit with a baseball bat in Little League but I still played the game).

“It looks like an old stroke,” he says. Like more than a few years ago.

“Can you tell because it’s extra wrinkly?” I can’t help myself from joking about it, even with the neurologist. He doesn’t laugh.

He seems surprised that I have no memory of having head trauma, or a period in my life when I struggled to maintain balance and coordination. Based on the dead area (my words) it would indicate I should have had some symptoms.

I wanted to say that maybe the symptom of my younger self’s head trauma is that I can’t recall having had head trauma. But I kept that to myself.

"Well, to be honest, I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I’ll talk to my team and see if anyone has any ideas. I would keep doing what you’re doing. The chances of you having another stroke are the same as anyone your age who never had one to begin with.”

I left, mostly relieved and a little confused. Did I have a stroke? Who’s to say.

The neurologist’s team didn’t offer any other interpretations of my MRI scans.

Some questions don’t have answers.

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If I hadn’t experienced the persistent headaches and hadn’t gotten the imaging, I’d be none the wiser.

I suppose I still am none the wiser other than knowing that part of my cerebellum is dead/missing/confounding the experts.

I’m enormously grateful to all the medical staff who’ve helped me throughout all the tests and appointments. It’s kind of blown my mind how responsive everyone has been, how professional and thorough. I know that’s not the experience many people have with the medical system.

And I’m grateful that whatever was/is going on with me is apparently nothing to worry about. I’m usually not good at not worrying, but I feel a little more capable of doing that for now.

And that’s where I stand today. Fully balanced on both feet. Ask me to do tree pose in yoga class and I’m liable to wobble and fall. But now I have a good response for whenever I get down on myself for not emulating a sturdy oak: Sorry, some of my bark is dead/missing/confounding the experts.

The first earworm that popped into my head after I received the MRI results was this one:

Billy Squier - The Stroke

My wife told me I probably shouldn’t use the song because it might come off like I’m making light of a serious medical condition. I know my sense of humor can be dark at times, that it can get close to the line of appropriateness and even cross it, but I hope it’s clear that I’m always making fun of myself, never anyone else. I know several people who’ve had strokes, and I’ve seen firsthand that they are no joke.

I think my wife’s response, though, was a residual reaction from the fact that I told her about my stroke diagnosis via text. Apparently, you’re not supposed to tell your partner that you had a stroke — no matter how non-symptomatic — via text while they are at work. “Your text almost gave me a heart attack,” she replied.

Always trying to one-up me.

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I’ve always loved this Billy Squier song. It’s akin to Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.” It’s a sing-along stadium anthem that has stood the test of time.

“The Stroke” was the first single from Squier’s 1981 sophomore album Don’t Say No. I remember it being played constantly on the radio. And probably on MTV too, as it started in 1981 as well, but I can’t say I remember seeing the video very often.

The song works because of its simplicity. Its crunchy guitar riff and basic bass drum and snare rhythm leave a lot of open space. When Billy’s voice comes in, asking us “Everybody/have you heard/If you’re in the game/then the stroke’s the word” we are fully there with him.

The song has a definite erotic energy, but despite the song’s title and connotations, it’s not about sex.

From American Songwriter:

“The Stroke” was inspired by the music industry, Squier’s experiences with labels, executives, and the overall machine that so readily uses, manipulates, and exploits artists. The song became a way for him to call out those evils while also offering up one of rock’s most memorable songs. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s all about the music industry though. I mean, these are some of the lyrics:

Put your left foot out / Keep it all in place / Work your way / Right into my case / First you try to bed me / You make my backbone slide

“Plenty of people saw sexual connotations in [‘The Stroke’] but to me, it was about what goes on in the business world,” Squier added, saying it doesn’t bother him too much. “I mean, I’m happy if people get something sexual out of it, but that was not its original intent or purpose.”

“The Stroke” reached No. 3 on the US Top Tracks chart and No. 17 on the US Billboard Hot 100. VH1 named it the 59th-best hard rock song of all time. That feels both generous and about right.

This was not the only hit song from Don’t Say No. The album offered several strong additions to “The Stroke.” Including “My Kind of Lover,” “In the Dark,” and my favorite, “Lonely is the Night.”

• I had a whole other section on The Wizard of Oz and the Scarecrow half-written, but I edited it out because the post was already too long. But I had to include the amazing “If I Only Had a Brain” scene and song from the 1939 film, starring Judy Garland and Ray Bolger. Such a great film.

• Have you ever had a bizarre unexplained medical condition or injury? Tell us your story in the comments.

• I know “The Stroke” is almost 45 years old (holy crap!), but in my mind it still holds up. Is this just because it’s from my youth? Does anyone 45 and younger have an opinion on this song?

• If you’re new to Earworms and Song Loops, thanks for being here! Some posts lean more toward memoir (like this one), others more toward music, and everywhere in between.