Wonder of the Waves

by Jim Lombardo

  Dr. Joel Oster was chief of the Neurology Department at Fahey Regional, and he welcomed the family amiably into his office. He went over the Blakes’ family history with them, the pregnancy, and their child’s short life to date, and then conducted some basic tests on his pint-sized patient, including her reflexes. While listening to her heartbeat with a stethoscope, Hannah shocked the doctor by reaching up and tightly squeezing his pinky finger.

  “Oh, hello,” he chuckled before turning to the parents. “I really doubt this is due to anything serious,” he said, “but I’m going to order an MRI and an EEG today to confirm that. She does have an elevated temperature, so my hunch is that’s what brought this on. I think you’ll have her back to school in no time at all,” he jested.

  “That’s funny, Doctor,” Brian said, “but you know the way she’s been going, she might just be ready for school soon. She can already say some letters, and watches TV. Even smiles too, ever since we got her home from the hospital. Check it out, she’s doing it now.”

  Hannah was watching the exchange and beaming happily. She was proud of herself for picking out so many words, although she wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about.

  “She does appear to be a bright one,” replied Oster, “but that smile is probably just a sign that your daughter’s passing some gas.”

  Hannah recognized the phrase “passing some gas,” stared into the doctor’s eyes, and intentionally forced her tummy down to emit a robust toot. Then the tip of the infant’s tongue emerged from between her lips as if she was sticking her tongue out in response to the doctor’s sleight.

  The laughter that filled the room only made her smile grow that much bigger, to the point that she felt the spontaneous physical compulsion to let out a grunt of relief. Hannah was getting her first inkling into humor. This situation and that sound were funny.

  Dr. Oster escorted the family out and told them he would stay in his office to follow-up with them at the end of the day, after the testing was finished. After exchanging goodbyes, he returned to his office where he sat perusing Hannah’s chart again. He checked her birth date, glanced at his desk calendar, and raised his eyebrows.

  “Five weeks old?” he said aloud to himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gamma Waves

  Monica and Brian sat with Hannah in a waiting room, leafing through brochures about the electroencephalogram, or EEG. They read how the exam was not dangerous and had been used routinely for decades. The test involved attaching electrodes to a person’s scalp to measure the electrical activity of the brain. The human brain was comprised of almost 100 billion cells, known as neurons. These cells used electricity to send signals, and communicate with each other. Nerve impulses had a cyclic nature to them that could be detected and measured as brainwave patterns by the EEG equipment. The machine could help diagnose brain-related conditions such as epilepsy, sleep disorders, or strokes because the results would show distinct abnormalities.

  The parents were interested to learn that there were five types of human brainwaves. Delta waves were a sign of deep sleep or unconsciousness, measuring .1 to 4 pulses per second on the Hertz scale, named after German physicist Heinrich Hertz, who proved that electromagnetic waves actually existed. Theta waves were seen when the patient was in a state of light sleep or semi-consciousness, at 5 to 7 pulses per second. Alpha waves were prevalent when alert, but in a state of mental and physical relaxation. These types of waves measured 8 to 13 pulses per second. Beta brainwaves were produced when consciously alert, combined with high emotion, such as fear. These waves were measured in frequencies of 14 to 25 pulses per second on the Hertz scale. Gamma brainwaves were the highest frequency wave, measuring 26 to 100 pulses per second. These waves were associated with peak concentration, extraordinarily high cognitive functioning, enhanced perception of reality, and increased compassion. The brochure noted that scientists believed that gamma waves were generated when the entire brain was linked, with all areas communicating in unison simultaneously.

  Many sounds of the hospital, such as doctors being paged on the public address system, reminded Hannah of her first few days after birth, and she decided to close her eyes and review those early experiences. She noticed that many of the early words she recorded were now easily identifiable upon replay. “Look at her little fingers,” Brian had uttered on her first day of life. Now, upon reflection, his meaning was finally clear. She delighted in unraveling these short, but stingy mysteries.

  Finally “Hannah Blake” was called, and the family was directed into a cramped examining room. The EEG technician turned away from the equipment he was setting up to greet them.

  “Hi there. I’ll be conducting the exam on…Hannah. Are you familiar with this test?”

  “We’re first-timers actually,” said Brian.

  “Okay, well, first of all it’s totally safe and easy. I’ll be detecting and recording your daughter’s brainwaves using this cap here that has 25 sensors on it.” The man picked up a red rubber baby cap studded with dime-sized electrodes, with thin yellow wires coming out of each one. The wires fed into a console, which in turn was hooked up to a computer and monitor. The whole contraption was like something out of a science fiction movie, and Monica gasped at the sight of it.

  “No electricity is coming out of these electrodes here. They’re only to receive activity, so they’re harmless, and Hannah won’t feel a thing. We’ll monitor her, and hopefully catch her while she’s in various states of mental alertness, including napping if possible.

  “Napping?” quipped Brian. “Good luck with that.”

  “All of the information will be transmitted to this computer for the doctor to review. You can keep holding her for the test if you’d like, Mrs. Blake, or we could lie her down here.”

  “Thanks, I’m fine holding her.”

  The technician carefully pulled the cap over Hannah’s cranium, noticing that the shape of her skull seemed uncharacteristically big for a baby her age. He was also surprised at her neck strength as she tried to resist. After logging onto the computer, he clicked away confidently for a couple of minutes before announcing the test was underway. Soon afterwards, he went back to typing on the computer keyboard, looking back and forth from Hannah to the screen with a quizzical expression. He then stopped and adjusted the cap, running the wires through his fingers to ensure they weren’t damaged or kinked, and that the hookup to the console was sound. Satisfied, he moved the mouse around again, and banged out a few more keystrokes, but with diminishing speed.

  “Hmmm,” he muttered, before checking the connection of the console to the computer, “I’m not getting anything.” He then proceeded to fiddle with the equipment and keyboard for a few minutes, but without success. “I’m sorry, I guess the cap isn’t working. We’ll have to go to the regular electrodes.” His apology was heartfelt because this meant having to attach 25 metal conductors to Hannah’s scalp using a sticky paste. She protested the sensation of the electrodes being fastened to her head by grunting and trying to put her arms above her head. But eventually she was properly prepared for the test.

  “Okay, where were we? We’re ready to start now,” the technician announced.

  However soon he was confounded again. “Wow, still not working. Everything was fine for my first three patients I tested today. In fact, I’ve never had this problem.”

  The man phoned the reception desk and within minutes a resident doctor arrived to research the problem. Dr. Matisha Patel carefully examined the equipment, including hooking an electrode up to a handheld device that could generate electricity that mimicked brainwaves. The results that appeared on the screen were totally normal. At that point Dr. Patel asked to view the results of Hannah’s two initial exams. She studied the screen intently for several minutes, then politely suggested that the Blakes return to the waiting room so that they could recalibrate the equipment. A cap was placed over the top
of Hannah’s head to keep the electrodes in place, and they were led out.

  After their departure, Dr. Patel sounded uncertain. “I don’t know. If we trust the readings, then these are the results, and they show that the frequency is topping out the machine at 40 hertz for all four minutes of testing, both with the cap and without.”

  The EEG being used could accommodate frequencies up to 40 hertz, but this was only partially into the gamma brainwave range. The recording showed a single, horizontal line along the upper edge of the graph where the results were being reported. If accurate, this would indicate that Hannah’s brainwaves were measuring 40 hertz or above for the entire duration of the initial tests.

  “Is that possible, Doctor?”

  “For a baby, no, but this is what we’re getting. I have another machine we can use that records up to 80 hertz, so we can check the validity of those 40, or 40-plus numbers.”

  The Blakes were called in about a half hour later. Under the supervision of Dr. Patel, the technician proceeded with testing Hannah using the new equipment. The exam was conducted for about 20 minutes, during which time they first entertained Hannah with a rattle to stimulate neural activity, and then unsuccessfully encouraged her to take a nap by shutting off the lights. Once again the readouts were predominantly a horizontal line, this time at the top of the 0-80 Hertz scale on the computer screen. However, Dr. Patel and the EEG technician did observe that on two occasions while the lights had been turned off, the baby’s brainwave activity dipped slightly below 80 hertz for a few seconds. The doctor politely and calmly advised Brian and Monica that she would get the results to Dr. Oster.

  “You see anything that looked like a problem?” asked Brian.

  “I didn’t see anything that looked like epilepsy, but I need to defer to Dr. Oster. He’s the expert. Hope all goes well with your daughter. Bye-bye, Hannah,” said Dr. Patel, glancing down at the tiny patient. Hannah tried to respond with “bye,” but her laryngitis prevented her. All she could do was mouth the word. She then tried to wave goodbye, but with both her arms swaddled, all she could do was nod.

  After the Blake family left, Dr. Patel had the technician conduct the EEG on her using the exact same electrodes that had just been used on Hannah. The results were totally normal, with hertz frequencies hovering around 18 pulses per second in the beta brainwave range.

  “That confirms that all of her brainwaves were in the upper gamma range, and God only knows how high the frequencies went beyond 80,” Dr. Patel exclaimed. “Let’s go see Dr. Oster right away.”

  The Blakes had a chance to grab a bite at the hospital cafeteria before reporting to the MRI wing for the next test. They were still guarded, but reassured that Hannah had been behaving normally since the seizure had ended, and they felt they were getting excellent care. Brian was happy to see his wife concentrating on a sandwich and chips. Cradled in the crook of her mother’s left arm, some crumbs happened to fall onto Hannah’s forehead. The infant wasn’t sure why she deserved this from Monica, and her distinct frown went unnoticed.

  The MRI wing waiting area was exquisitely decorated with comfortable black leather chairs, and an indoor garden with a decorative waterfall. Monica lovingly tried to coiffe Hannah’s few wayward curls of golden blond hair that had been squashed by the skull cap, and she worked on removing bits of paste the technician had missed when he cleaned her up.

  Meanwhile from her mother’s lap, Hannah was busy observing the performance that nature was conducting with the waterfall. She studied carefully how the liquid flowed, cascading rapidly down a rock-studded wall, enveloping each obstruction and speeding up slightly when forced to veer away from its natural, straight-descending path. The water’s journey culminated with a fierce collision into a pool at the base of the falls, where white foam bubbled, and microdroplets were hurled into the air in grand, arcing trajectories. Hannah noticed that in the pool, concentric rings of water moved evenly away from the turbulent impact zone. And in the mist at the base, a rainbow hovered in midair.

  The Magnetic Resonance Imaging apparatus worked by using powerful magnets and high-amplitude waves of sound to generate cross-sectional and three-dimensional images of internal bodily structures. Hannah was given an oral sedative and then strapped to a gurney with her head immobilized. She considered protesting, but presumed there was a good reason why this was being done, as with the EEG. She was also reassured by her parents’ demeanor. The rhythmic banging and whirring tones of the MRI began, and the child carefully tracked the sound over the next ten minutes. Although her mental faculties were slightly impaired by the drug, she still struggled to determine if this noise was some type of communicative message. The patterns were inconclusive to her; if this was a song, it was a clunker in her opinion.

  When the testing was complete, the results were transmitted to Dr. Oster’s office, and the young family began to make their way there. Brian could see that traipsing around the expansive complex was wearing on his wife. Although she was pushing Hannah’s baby stroller, she was also leaning on the handlebar to make walking easier.

  “Just get through this next one, and we’re home, honey.”

  “I know, Bri’. I have to hang on for our baby.”

  “You will. You got the right genes for that, agreed?”

  Monica thought about that and then straightened up considerably.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monica Merrick

  Monica Merrick was born in 1987 to an unwed teenager named Sarah Merrick. During the earliest years of her life, Monica lived with her mother’s family in Williamstown, Massachusetts, a bucolic town nestled in a valley at the foot of Mount Greylock, the highest peak in the state. The town is located in the northwest corner of Massachusetts, bordering Vermont and New York and is skirted by the Appalachian National Scenic Trail. In earlier times, the area was home to Indian tribes who benefited from being situated along a well-known trade and travel route, which today is called the Mohawk Trail.

  In the modern era, Williamstown is a college town, home to the prestigious Williams College. It’s well regarded for its scenic beauty and elegant country inns and hotels that accommodate tourists flocking to the area to view the spectacular autumn foliage, cross-country ski during the winter, and enjoy camping, fishing, and hiking during the warmer months.

  Monica had been an unexpected result of a summer romance. Growing up in Williamstown, her mother Sarah had attended a day camp, known as Camp Tom-Tom, from late June through August each year. The camp catered to kids ranging in age from six up to young teens, keeping them busy each day with a variety of games, crafts, swimming, music, and exploration.

  On her first day of camp at age six, Sarah had been quite anxious when her mother had left her. But she was quickly put at ease by an amusing and interesting youngster named Chase, who was the same age. His wealthy parents owned a summer home in Williamstown. They would arrive shortly after the school year ended each year, and remain for the summer, returning to their home in Connecticut just before Labor Day. The parents shared a private law practice and could afford to take every summer off. They enrolled Chase, their only child, in the camp to give them the freedom to pursue their interests during the day such as golf and tennis.

  “Wanna know sumpin’? Once I got stung by six bees at the same time,” boasted Chase to Sarah on their first meeting. “Huge wasps. Didn’t even hurt. It tickled…like this.” Chase playfully poked at her ribs while buzzing like a bee.

  Sarah recoiled, smiling. By sheer coincidence right after Chase’s horseplay an actual bumblebee dive-bombed him, sending Chase screaming in terror and running in circles, shaking his head and wildly flailing at his hair until it finally flew away.

  “I guess you don’t like getting tickled, huh?” she teased.

  “I was just kidding. I’m not afraid of ’em.” The boy wanted to change the subject. “I’m Chase. What’s your name?”

  “
Sarah. You’re not from school, are you?”

  “Nah. I’m from Connect-it, Connennetic…Connnn…”

  “Connecticut?” Sarah offered.

  “Yeah, like I said,” the boy answered. “I hope this camp will be good.”

  “I heard it’s a blast. Especially with all the beehives they got here.”

  Chase did a double take, then gave Sarah a little grin.

  Sarah and Chase spent every summer of their youth together at the camp from that point on, and they were virtually inseparable. Their friendship was an unending stream of excitement, interspersed with occasional hijinks that solidified their attachment, and also ensured the counselors earned their paycheck. One highlight took place on a lazy August day when they were about ten. Sarah and Chase were bored and snuck away from the camp in an attempt to find a popular viewing ridge off the Thunderbolt Trail they had heard about, halfway up Mount Greylock. Lost, but blissfully unafraid, they didn’t make it back until after dark, by which time they were able to follow the flashing blue lights of the police cars looking for them.

  Every year, as the days shortened and the evening air grew colder, it seemed harder and harder to say goodbye to each other to start the school year. By age 16 they had outgrown being campers themselves but both worked as counselors. Those were classic summers, enjoying the outdoors, and sharing their enthusiasm for the kids and the activities they were now helping to run.