Neuroplasticity Study

In September, I participated in a study at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) measuring brain plasticity in people with Asperger's (the full name of the study is 'Stabilizing Neuroplasticity in Adults with Asperger Disorder Using Repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation: A pilot study'). I had first heard about rTMS on a news segment describing its use in treating treatment-resistant depression. I asked my doctor about it, hoping that I could get into a clinical study going on at CAMH. I was excluded due to a family history of epilepsy (very disappointing), but I was offered the chance to get in on a similar study aimed at those on the spectrum. In July I went to Toronto for the screening process, which was basically just an IQ test.

The objective of the study is to compare brain cortical plasticity between neurotypical adults and adults with Asperger's. The theory, as I understand it, is that Aspies have hyperplastic brains, and with rTMS certain areas thought to be responsible for the perceived negative symptoms can be toned-down.

For three weeks in September I travelled to Toronto, for a total of four sessions. For the first session, we started with finding the right spot in my motor cortex to make my thumb (hooked up to electrodes) twitch 5 times out of 10 when hit with theta burst stimulation (TBS) to get my baseline. The TBS was delivered via a paddle with a figure-8 coil pressed onto my head. It made a CLACK! sound (like hockey sticks slapping together) when it fired, and made me blink, the muscle under my left eye twitch, and my jaw to move up and to the left, making my teeth smash together (along with the thumb twitch). After biting my lip during one of the bursts, I held my mouth open for all the following hits. After finding the right spot and marking my scalp with a bright pink marker, Dr. Desarkar, the head investigator, used either intermittent TBS or continuous TBS (I don't remember) to activate my motor cortex. This made my jaw move up and down rapid fire. I must have looked quite silly sitting there with my mouth open, chewing on nothing but air. The last part of this session involved the application of 10 hits of TBS in 5-minute intervals, up to 105 minutes after the activation. The reaction in my thumb was recorded on a computer. From what I could tell, the reactions were bigger, tapering off until eventually going back to the baseline we took at the beginning.

The second session, the following week, was fairly similar to the first, except that instead of activating, the TBS was used to inhibit. Again, from what I could tell from the computer screen, and the doctor's reactions, my thumb twitches were smaller, and gradually worked their way back up to the baseline.

The third session, the week after that, I received sham rTMS. I was both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed in that I was curious what it would do to me, if anything. I was relieved because I was afraid that if it did improve my social skills, it would so at the cost of my intelligence or memory. This would almost definitely not happen, especially after only one session, but I worried about it anyway. Even though I wasn't receiving rTMS, I still had to come in, lie down, and have the magnetic coil placed on my head (just at a 90 degree angle so the burst shot away from my brain) for a little over an hour, the machine clicking the whole time. No measurements were taken. Quite boring. I had trouble staying awake.

The final session occurred the next day. It was a repeat of the first session: activation (chosen at random).

It was all very interesting, though I've forgotten a bit, and probably got a number of things mixed up; too many acronyms. But it was worth the anxiety of travelling to Toronto by bus (2 things I dislike), and not just because I got paid for my participation, and had my travel expenses covered. I may do another similar study in November or December.

Help

I have been encouraged by my therapist to ask these questions, despite the fear of alienating people.

Friendships have always been a source of pain and frustration for me. I have lost many friends, the reasons for which are unknown to me; they just kinda went away. I would (I thought) be a good friend, initiating conversations, plans. It seemed I always ended up doing all the 'work' in the friendship, however. Eventually I would hear less and less from them...I've learned to give up trying to keep a friendship going after a certain amount of time. Friendships need participation from both sides, right?

More and more I wonder if I am the problem. Is it that I keep choosing the wrong kinds of people? In that case, why? Is it that I'm too negative? I think that I am more positive when in the company of friends. Perhaps it is due to my AS. Not always responding appropriately (physically), missing various social cues "neurotypicals" take for granted, could be off-putting? I truly do not know.

I am not trying to complain. I just would like to know what I am doing wrong (if anything) so I can begin to work on it.

Pets

I've grown up with a number of pets, and I've loved them all so much. When I started living with my family (ie. was born), our dog, Muffy, and cat, Dinkie, were already there. Muffy was great. She was full of energy, and did crazy things like jumping up and biting the carrot nose off our snowman. I would cuddle up with her during lightning storms (which she was terrified of). Dinkie was terrified of everyone, except my parents. He stayed away from my sister and me, and bolted under Mom's dresser whenever someone so much as knocked on the door. He only really warmed up to me during the last few years of his life. When he passed away (at 17), I was devastated. We buried him amongst the trees off the side of a trail (which was dug up by Habitat for Humanity to make houses; I wonder what they thought upon finding feline bones!)

I did not want to get any more pets, but caved in when I saw the kittens born to a cat of my Mom's friend. We've had Blaze and Cozmo ever since. Along the way, we've had a budgie, numerous fish, and my sister had a skinny pig. I get so attached to these animals. When the skinny pig died, I firmly declared we should not get any more pets; I couldn't take the pain of their eventual deaths. And yet when my sister rescued a hamster, The Gingerbread Man, from an incompetent friend, I fell for him, too (he was so called because he had the uncanny ability to escape from his cage and wind up in places like the stove). With his death, I made the same declaration.

With the exception of my father, I've always been struck harder by the death of an animal than a human. This is another trait of Asperger's: identifying more with animals than humans. Aspies (as many of us seem to call ourselves) often say they are from the wrong planet. I definitely feel this way sometimes. Hell, when I tried to commit suicide, the hardest part was saying goodbye to my cats!

Despite so many deaths, I now find myself wanting a dog once my cats are gone...

P.S. Today I experienced my first earthquake! There was brief rumbling, and things on my shelves rattled.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

I have never dealt well with change. It provokes a lot of anxiety for me. This may be a trait of my Asperger's Syndrome. As a child I would take weeks or even months to transition from Winter to Summer clothes, and vice versa. I haven't really outgrown this either. Once I was free from my mother telling me I had to dress for the season, I switched to wearing t-shirts year-round. Going from one grade to another in school was also difficult.

I've been reorganizing my room (more change) the past couple days. I have a ton of Lego: 4 buckets full, plus various creations sitting on shelves. I needed to free-up some room, so I dismantled a number of the things I had built. The Apache attack helicopter (the 1st of my Lego aircraft, built at least 10 years ago) and the Jaguar fighter jet were both "shot-down", along with a few vehicles from my undead army. I cannot possibly convey how hard this was, emotionally.