I’ve not been a big memoir reader over the years, but when this one was recommended to me, I was fascinated by the subject matter. Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness, retells the period of Susannah Cahalan’s life when an autoimmune disease took over her brain, and almost took her life. She experienced both physical decline and psychosis, leading to everything from a dismissal of her symptoms to a series of initial misdiagnoses that could have cost Cahalan her life. While some doctors simply gave up, others latched onto aspects of her lifestyle, such as the one or two glasses of wine per night that was changed to one or two bottles in a doctor’s note, and claimed her symptoms were due to alcohol withdrawal. Luckily, she found herself with
Dr. Souhel Najjar who had both the experience and knowledge to help get to the
correct diagnosis, and the tenacity to make sure she was not simply abandoned
by the system. As a reporter by trade, Cahalan has given us a memoir from both
a personal and informative perspective, and she balances them perfectly.
This book spoke deeply to me in part because I have been touched by neurodivergent people in my life. Although that is vastly different from psychosis, I related to the elements of dismissal that are so much a part of Cahalan’s story. Where Cahalan initially heard that her symptoms were simply stress or being overworked or too much alcohol, neurodivergent children (and adults) are often told they are lazy or undisciplined or disorganized, especially when the neurodivergence does not demonstrate severe symptoms. Similarly, as a society we make judgements of people we cross in the street, assuming a stumbling person is drunk or a zoned-out person is high. While that is certainly true some of the time, there are many other medical conditions affecting the neurological system, reeking havoc on things like balance and speech and coordination and focus.
It's not surprising that we make these judgements. Our brains use logic, and that logic leads us to certain conclusions. If my brain can choose an action or response, you engaging in a different action or response must mean that you have chosen that too. It can be hard to remember that the brain is an organ like any other. Just as a baby can be born with a hole in their heart or a malfunctioning liver, babies can be born with brains that are wired differently for learning or behaviour or even connection. In Cahalan’s case, it was a disease that needed treatment. In the case of neurodivergence, it's a biological-based neurological difference that needs early intervention and alternate strategies. But in both cases, the world needs to recognize that the brain is an organ and we cannot simply decide to make it work a certain way just because we want it to.
Cahalan’s reflections on her psychosis were profound. Many times, she was able to recognize her brain was not what it was before and she tried to use choices to make her thoughts cooperate. At other times, she had no control and even no memories, only able to retell her story through recounts from family and friends, doctor notes, patient videos and some journal entries. Her struggle to gain control, but ultimately be controlled by the disease ravaging her brain, is a valuable reminder to withhold judgement of our fellow humans, and lead first with empathy whenever we can.
Thank you to Susannah Cahalan for sharing her story. And thank you to Heather Hawk for recommending this memoir. You can find Heather's writing at www.heatherhawk.net.
© 2024 Shirley Hay