Dr. Ash and the Brain Performance & Neuroplasticity Centre

So, what if we finally try treating the brain injury as we would a concussion?

When I walked through the door of the Brain Performance Centre, I was filled with hesitation. But that hesitation would soon turn to a level of optimism I haven’t had in years.

“Another thousand dollars and full morning of meaningless tests,” I thought to myself. “I’m so tired of this.” I was getting grumpy and I hadn’t even started.

But to say this doctor came highly recommended is an understatement. His reviews, after 20 years, are as high as ever, whether from patients or other functional neurologists. After a visit to another doc here a few weeks ago, and a phone call with the folks at VennMed, in Toronto, everyone said: “go see Dr. Ash.”

I arrived, filled out the requisite forms, and then they put me through hours of tests. Balance, eye tracking, mental fatigue tests, heart rate, blood pressure. I had done them all before somewhere or other — first at the Mind-Eye Clinic in Chicago, and at VennMed in Toronto. I hoped I could avoid doing them again because I’d already spent about $5000 on the same thing, and I’m not sure what they got me last time.

While the tests were the same, the level of care and explanation of my symptoms that I received afterwards had my jaw gaping open.

A “textbook case”

“Your symptoms present as textbook post-concussion injury, James,” said Dr. Ash. “I’ve treated dozens of people and resolved their symptoms after a period of years.”

I was so excited, but just couldn’t let the optimism take over.

“The numbness you have on the left side of your body is because your arteries and veins are enlarged on that side — I can see it in your left eye — and your left brain has not getting enough oxygen for years. I can see it on the eye-tracking tests. You’re performing very well, but it’s extremely tiring for you.”

Could this be why I feel so much better shortly after the O2 chamber? He sure thought so. Why rTMS worked so well on the left frontal lobe? Yep.

“And the extreme tightness on the right side and at C1 on your spine is the way your body essentially creates a new mechanism to orient you in space because that part of the brain is compromised.”

I read about this phenomenon in Clark Elliot’s inspirational book about brain trauma.

“Does your heart race when you’re tired?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure. If it does, it doesn’t cause me much discomfort. But by the end of the appointment, I was mentally fatigued and the heart started to go.

“Your heart isn’t getting enough oxygen, either. That’s common for people with your symptoms.”

Even the tinnitus, he had an explanation for.

“Does it spike when you wake up?” Hell yes. “Seconds after you gain consciousness?” Yes.

“That’s likely because when you wake up, the blood rushes from your gut to your head. The injured brain needs so much more oxygen just to perform basic functions. It diverts blood from the gut to the brain and limbs for most of the day, and then you finally process food when you rest. Your symptoms likely spike after a meal.”

Bang-on. This guy was reading my tea leaves. For the first while, I would avoid eating because it would make me feel so uncomfortable. Headaches, numbness, the whole deal. At the time, I had no idea what was causing it — a new allergy? Who knows. This is not a linear problem.

“Wow, so this is all starting to make so much sense,” I said. “But what about those damn lights. They look like they’re from some hell-dimension. The LEDs and the traffic lights?”

“That’s the top of your brainstem. Are you overwhelmed with sounds, too?”

Ha! Understatement. Music sounds like fingers on a chalkboard.

“This is the critical piece. You only have so many neurons to use, so the brain diverts power to the regions that are working. We need to get the top of your brainstem to start directing traffic more capably again. Right now it’s just sending you lots of extra noise because it wants you to be alert, either in fight-or-flight or to shut down”

That vagal ladder problem, yes – it's still a thing. And then there was the PONS machine! That’s likely why the machine helped me, he confirmed. But it expired before I could really hit a stride. [Aside: that machine now costs $25,000, plus the 13-week mouthpiece, for an additional $4,000. I was “lucky” to get it for $6 K].

“And since the tests indicate your cerebellum is not broken, everything else is fixable.”

No. Way.

“You have to be careful with that optimism, sir,” I said.

I feel like I’ve accumulated lots of pieces of this puzzle, but this guy has everything — the pieces, the instructions — the whole damn map.

“I’ve mostly given up on big solutions, but I guess I found my way to the clinic, after all, so I’ve got some left. You think you can do something about all this?”

“Yes, give me 8 sessions.”

Eight sessions? Years of pushing and testing and reading and travelling and spending, and the guy can do it in 8 sessions?

“Well, that sounds optimistic, but sign me up.”