Brain-Fog_Part One

One of the most frustrating symptoms of ME is a pervasive form of cognitive dysfunction known commonly as ‘brain-fog’. In its milder form, brain-fog is comparable to the poor concentration and foggy-headedness a healthy person might experience during a cold; its severe form however is utterly debilitating.

Brain-fog typically affects memory, concentration, word-finding abilities and language-comprehension. This makes it more difficult for sufferers to learn new skills or retain information, and severely restricts their ability to study or work. The form and severity of cognitive dysfunction varies from person to person and from day to day. On a good day, I am able to concentrate in twenty minute bursts and this allows me to read, write, chat or watch TV spread out through the day; however short these sessions I am immeasurably grateful to be doing these things as many patients with severe ME cannot do them at all.

Brain-fog has affected me in very different ways throughout the course of my illness. In the early days it was relatively easy to hide my symptoms as I divided my time between several different groups of friends, colleagues and classmates who each only saw the tip of the iceberg. If someone happened to notice I’d put the TV remote in the freezer or left the house in my slippers I could usually pass it off as one of those scatter-brained moments we all fall prey to on isolated occasions. I was the only one aware of just how frequent and debilitating these incidents really were and I couldn’t help but wonder whether dementia could ever strike in a person so young.

I would struggle to follow through on even the simplest of tasks. Just making cups of tea became a cognitive nightmare as I’d forget to use a teabag, would omit to boil the kettle, or would fill the cup with water straight from the tap. Instead of milk I would use whatever refrigerated product was closest to hand. Yoghurt, juice and ketchup all made it into brews on a regular basis and caused quite a shock to whichever unlucky recipient happened to wind up with a mouthful of something unexpected. I ruined a good friend’s kettle once by adding milk and teabags, and boiling them instead of water. Thankfully she found it hilarious but her morning cup of coffee never tasted quite the same again.

At the most severe point of my illness there were times I lost the ability to understand spoken English and would forget my own name or the faces of my loved ones. Entire months of my life are missing from my memory but with hindsight I am grateful that at times of medical crisis I had so little comprehension where I was or what was happening.

Since my health began to stabilise, my cognitive abilities have improved to the point that have gradually resumed a few of the pursuits that I enjoyed when I was healthy. I still struggle to read a novel or watch a full-length film as my brain just cannot cope with the complexity of long plotlines but I treasure the ability to read poems and short-stories again after so many years.

I battle with symptoms of brain-fog each and every day and it is more likely to dictate what I do with my time than any other symptom. I struggle to engage in long-conversations, especially when they involve more than one other person, and in busy environments I cannot tune out background movement or noise. I spend chunks of every conversation desperately trying to catch the thread of what the other person is saying and have learned to simply smile and nod as there are only so many times you can ask someone to repeat themselves before they start to lose patience with you. My doctors, advocates and social workers send written records of every important consultation as I can rarely recall the details of discussions even if I appeared fully engaged at the time our meeting.

Everyday tasks such as dialling a phone or making a shopping list can be close to impossible. I forget basic information like my date of birth or the order of days in a week and it is extremely disconcerting to hear a voice on the end of the phone and realise you can no longer recall who you’ve phoned or why you are calling them. When brain-fog is particularly bad I lose the ability to read and write, and I struggle with even the simplest decisions such as whether to have toast or cereal for breakfast. Each successive option drives the previous one from my memory and when I tell the carers what I want them to do for me, I am often only repeating the last thing I remember them saying to me, whether or not it is actually what I wanted.

Despite my cognitive dysfunction I haven’t entirely lost my intellectual capacity; it simply takes far longer to achieve things now than it did before. I am still capable of many of the things that I used to do (this this blog is proof of that) but I have to accept that things that once took hours may now take months instead.

Twenty minutes here and twenty there may not seem like much but it soon adds up, and it never ceases to amaze me what it’s possible to achieve when you keep on chipping away at things.

This entry was posted in Hidden Disability, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Brain-Fog_Part One

  1. Joy H Selak says:

    Excellent! This is a great article to share with friends who may not understand what we are going through. Really well done!

  2. Great post! I feel like I talk about meditation too much but I can’t resist it here, haha- but I find meditating for half hour or one hour when the brain fog hits does wonders to help me re-focus and re-connect with what my brain knows (but sometimes has trouble finding).

    I like the idea of accepting things may now take longer. I know I always ‘want what i want when i want it’, so to speak, so I think it’s great you are cultivating patience for the things you want!

    • Half an hour pre-emptive rest – no light, no sound, and horizontal in a warm bed if possible – and I get a period afterward of being better. If I wait too long, it doesn’t work as well. Sometimes I can meditate, others sleep, and others I just keep doing yoga breathing over and over until the timer goes – any and all are better than not taking the rest.

      I can’t seem to get anyone else in my CFS group to do it, though. I’ve stopped preaching – they don’t want to listen.

      Glad to find someone else who does it.

  3. hayley-eszti says:

    Such a relatable post on brain fog. Sometimes I wish I could do something productive with my time whilst I´m physically restricted like study, but it just isn´t possible. It is such a frustrating symptom and I don´t think people realise just how debilitating it can be.

  4. addercatter says:

    I am right there with you…

  5. Miss Soul says:

    Great writing! Brain-fog, I hate it.
    The only time it does not make me feel like an idiot is when it comes to movies, it’s like seeing them for the 1st time.

  6. Claire says:

    Very well put! Thankfully my brain fog lifted a few months ago (when it happened it was like my brain was filled with sparkles, every thought was a firework!) but while it was happening it was the most debilitating symptom. At my worst I started crying because a friend asked me if I wanted a drink of water. I couldn’t even begin to think about it. Water? What would I do with it? Do I want it? Does she want me to want it?
    Keep focused on the minutes that you have with a clear head – hopefully as you get better at managing they will increase!

  7. serenityjack says:

    Reblogged this on serenityjack's Blog and commented:
    I can relate a lot to this, though I’m not as extreme.

  8. freesvea says:

    Great writing! Have had brainfog for years (CFS), but not as severe as you have. But it’s like a constant foggy blanket, which makes everything in life more difficult and time consuming.

  9. I hate the brain fog – almost as much as the other symptoms. But you can’t fight reality – you have to find a way to exist within it, or you give this disease more than you have to.

  10. Pingback: Blog-Share: Brain-Fog Part One | Seriously "Sensitive" to Pollution

  11. Nat says:

    I also have it with my Chemical sensitivities, the worst is at work..I find myself writing every little thing down since I got in trouble for not being able to prioritize my work efficiently, or do enough work- so I write down every thing that takes up my time which would not show up in my stats, like customer calling me, or my computer or phone is not functioning, or another employee talking to me, ect…. as I cannot remember these things.. Also, where I work, there is such a vast amount of information that I need to know in order to do my job well.. but I am so afraid because I just cant remember, and find myself constantly asking others for help.I really should know the answers,,, I been there 16 years now, and this is pretty embarrassing. Especially when I ask a new employee for help.

  12. jmhaag says:

    This is so great! I have really been in denial (and perhaps I still am) over my diagnosis. It is so hard when I can’t think of the most simple words. I like to think of myself as intellectual, yet when small words like car or outside get stuck in the brain fog, I feel like…. Well let’s just say all of this FMS garbage has been a huge blow to my already fragile ego. Thanks! I love this article.

    • Sorry to hear you’re struggling to adjust to your diagnosis. It took a couple of years for me to learn to accept mine. Eleven years down the line I still struggle with it sometimes. Glad you found the post helpful. Thanks for commenting.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s