Struck by Genius: How a Brain Injury Made Me a Mathematical Marvel (27 page)

I was starting to really appreciate the combination of things I’d acquired. I might not have become a savant without the synesthetic imagery that allowed me to show my process and create my art. I was grateful I had both now, despite the tradeoffs.

Even though I had just arrived in Helsinki, the testing process had actually begun several months earlier. Prior to my trip, as part of my evaluation for synesthesia, I was asked to draw a wheel, a balloon, and my interpretation of a mathematical formula. Approximately three months later, I was asked to draw the same things. The drawings would be compared for consistency as part of the testing process, which also included the brain-imaging scans I was about to undergo.

When we entered the lab, it was humming with human activity and machinery. I told the researchers that I liked to think I was smart now, but the people who created such diagnostics and used them were the true geniuses.

They told me that the whole wing of the center was shielded with metal in order to keep radio-frequency waves from interfering with the equipment’s readings. I would be tested with both functional magnetic resonance imaging, which would provide a general view of the activity in my brain, and transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS), which would isolate what was going on in specific areas in greater detail.

First up was the fMRI. What makes fMRI such a useful tool is that it reveals images of the brain in action. In everyday life, when you do ordinary things—calculate a 15 percent tip at a restaurant, figure out an alternative route home when there’s a traffic jam, or have a conversation—specific areas of the brain are activated. To help neurons do their job, oxygen-rich blood flow increases in those areas. Using radio waves and a powerful magnetic field, fMRI measures and maps brain activity by detecting these changes in blood flow. Active areas of the brain appear to light up on the three-dimensional scans produced by the high-tech machines, providing a glimpse of how the brain functions.

I put on a white jumpsuit that made me feel like an astronaut. It was the longest journey I would ever take without moving—a voyage to the truth. First, the scientists scanned me with the fMRI. I was not terribly claustrophobic in the enclosed space; it felt similar to the MRI I’d undergone years ago. It took about forty minutes, but I was so deep in thought, the time seemed to fly by in just a few minutes. When I was in the machine, the researchers flashed many images onto a screen in front of my eyes, including objects like leaves, seashells, a screw, human faces showing varying emotions, a rubber duckie, numbers, and formulas. There was even an image of a grenade! While most people would associate the last item with war and destruction, I found myself transfixed by the fractal nature of the designs on its outer shell. I wondered what the researchers were seeing in my brain while I was pondering the images. I couldn’t feel anything going on, but things were lighting up on the monitors outside my view. I heard a humming sound even through my earplugs and saw waves go by in my mind’s eye that must have been a synesthetic reaction of some sort.

The next day I had a second fMRI, and the day after that, I had the TMS test. TMS is a noninvasive way to change how neurons act in the brain. It delivers quick magnetic pulses to targeted areas of brain tissue to stimulate the nerve cells. A form of TMS called repetitive TMS (rTMS) is sometimes used as a treatment for depression and other neurological and psychiatric disorders. It is also one of the techniques Dr. Snyder, the curly-haired man I saw at the conference who is the director of the Centre for the Mind in Australia, used in his attempts to induce savantlike skills in nonsavants. In my case, it would be used to inhibit regions identified in the fMRI so the researchers could see if that would diminish the synesthesia.

For this test, I was told I wouldn’t need to lie down in a machine. Instead, the TMS device, which looked like a paddle with two loops, would be placed near my head as I sat in a chair. Short bursts of current would be used to inhibit my brain’s activity in specific areas so the scientists could find the neural correlates of synesthesia induced by mathematical formulas they showed me.

One of the neuroscientists fitted me with the world’s funkiest glasses—oversize, gray, and angular—before putting the paddle device and its inner coils near, but not touching, my head. The glasses would flash the images to stimulate my brain.

“You look like Anakin Skywalker!” he said.

“Now,
this
is pod-racing,” I joked, alluding to the sport loved by the George Lucas hero; the races had always thrilled me as a moviegoer, but they paled in comparison to this. When the neuroscientist told me he’d never actually seen a Star Wars film, I clutched my chest like I was having a heart attack. I am a devoted fan of the series.

I had read that the TMS would be only minimally uncomfortable, but I noticed I got zapped lightly by the device. It reminded me of the time my troublesome brother hit me with a stun gun; thankfully, this was much less intense.

When it was all finally over, I couldn’t wait to see what the tests would reveal. To be able to grasp the information, though, I first had to understand a few basics about the brain, such as the concepts of left brain and right brain. Neuroscientists have long believed that the left hemisphere of the brain is involved in processes that are analytical, logical, and detail-oriented, while the right hemisphere tends to see the big picture, recognize patterns, and contribute to creativity. Newer research on the differences between the left brain and right brain have shown that the distinctions may not be as clear-cut as once thought. And of course, both sides of the brain communicate with each other, thanks in large part to the corpus callosum, a thick band of more than two hundred million nerve fibers that connect the two hemispheres.

This left brain/right brain stuff was important because many studies on savants have shown damage in the left hemisphere of the brain. There are a number of theories about what this means and what role it plays in acquired savantism or acquired synesthesia. Would one of these theories be the answer to the mystery of my brain?

Some scientists claim that the left side of the brain typically inhibits, or suppresses, activity on the right side. As Brit explained it, “The left hemisphere normally keeps the right hemisphere under control, but when there is a lesion or a disturbance in the left hemisphere, suddenly the right hemisphere is ‘out of the tyranny’ of the left and can develop hidden abilities.” Is that what happened to me? Had my left brain relinquished control of my right brain?

Other experts, such as Dr. Snyder, suggest that it’s the left hemisphere that filters out much of the raw sensory data the brain detects. So when there are problems on the left side of the brain, the filter can go on the fritz. In a 2009 paper that appeared in
Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society,
Snyder claimed it was this failure that allowed for conscious awareness of the unfiltered material. This is in line with what Dr. Bushell said, that the human retina is capable of seeing things at the quantum level but that the brain filters out what is considered unnecessary. Had my filters been damaged, allowing the raw material to flood in?

Brit thought there was another mechanism at work. As she had already explained to me, she believed synesthesia played a role in some people gaining access to the inner zombie calculations that most others aren’t aware of. But that’s not all. In an interview with
Popular Science,
she explained, “When brain cells die, they release a barrage of neurotransmitters, and this deluge of potent chemicals may actually rewire parts of the brain, opening up new neural pathways into areas previously unavailable.” Had neurotransmitters in the injured areas of my brain spilled into other regions of my brain and caused some changes there?

Research from Dr. Treffert indicated that when some areas of the brain were damaged, other areas were recruited to compensate, which may give rise to savant abilities. However, in an article he wrote, called “The Savant Syndrome,” he noted that “no single theory can explain all savants.” Did this mean that more than one theory could apply to me? Or that something completely different might have occurred in my case?

I was about to find out.

When my results were in, I felt so excited. After waiting nearly ten long years, I was finally going to discover what had happened to my brain. I noticed that Brit was excited too. She said she had been waiting her whole life for a case like mine and that the results were amazing.

As I looked at my brain scans, I saw splashes of yellow, orange, and red. These were the active areas that had lit up in response to the mathematical formulas they showed me in the fMRI. I couldn’t wait for Brit to tell me what it all meant.

She explained it to me and later summed it all up in an e-mail to Maureen. She even published an article in the journal
Neurocase
about her findings.

She started out by saying that when my brain was being scanned to detect the neurological underpinnings of my synesthesia, there was activation in some of the areas of the temporal lobes, frontal lobes, and parietal cortex, an area that most people don’t have conscious access to. She wrote, “The parietal lobe is where sensory information is integrated from various parts of the body, but more importantly in Jason’s case, it’s also where knowledge of numbers and their relations resides.” She explained that in being able to consciously access math processes, I was actually seeing behind the curtain into how math works. The areas of the parietal cortex were activated when I was looking at mathematical formulas that gave rise to fractal imagery but not when I was shown nonsense formulas.

Hearing this news, I felt like Dorothy looking behind the curtain at the Wizard of Oz—except I was not disappointed with what I saw. What a privilege to be able to not only do math but see it at every step and even draw its geometric foundations.

“Even more surprising is that when Jason was looking at the stimuli which give rise to fractal images in him, he used only his left hemisphere to generate the synesthesia,” Brit continued. “When he was looking at nonsense formulas, he used both hemispheres.”

This was the reverse of what the neuroscientists expected. Ordinarily, as previous brain-imaging studies had shown, the right hemisphere is dominant in people with savant syndrome; that’s most likely due to damage to the left side. Once again, I didn’t fit the mold. Brit explained what this might mean for me.

“Exact mathematics is much more of a left-hemisphere activity whereas approximate mathematics (how many birds on a wire, how many apples in a bowl) happens in both hemispheres,” Brit wrote. “Jason is more engaged by exact math in the left hemisphere.”

Apparently I had received more damage to the right side of my brain, specifically to areas of the visual cortex, which is involved in detecting motion and boundaries. Because of this, there was a possibility my left side was compensating, Brit explained. She also noted that the hyperactive areas of my brain are located next to those that were injured. This is important because it fits in with her hypothesis that dying brain cells release a flood of neurotransmitters into neighboring regions that may ultimately rewire the brain. In my case, the areas that became highly active were probably right in the path of the rush of neurotransmitters.

Finally, after all these years, I had an official diagnosis. Based on my brain scans as well as those drawings I had done months earlier, Brit found that I had conceptual, or higher, synesthesia, as opposed to the more common perceptual, or lower, form. And to the best of her knowledge, I was the first person who had ever acquired both synesthesia and savant syndrome. More than that, I was apparently the first to hand-draw mathematical fractals and the first known synesthete to see objects and formulas as fractals.

I was so happy to know that what I was experiencing was legitimate, wasn’t mental illness, and was, in fact, extraordinary. It felt wonderful to be “proven.” I’d never had the evidence beyond my own behavior and experiences until then. It was real; it had been proven scientifically! I’d always felt in the core of my being something like this was going on, but due to some of the reactions of others—including that nameless professor who told me there was something wrong with my brain—I’d also always had a bit of doubt. I left Helsinki for home more confident in my abilities and motivated to use my acquired savant syndrome and synesthesia for good.

Chapter Seventeen

I
NOW FELT LIKE
I had proof of my unlikely gifts. It was hard to return to my life managing the futon business. My Scandinavian journey proved to me that I had to carve out a new path in life, but I had many responsibilities I couldn’t walk away from. I now truly wanted to change my profession to something more suitable for my new interests and abilities. I also thought I needed to change my living environment. I knew there were more inspiring places Elena and I could live.

Maureen had interviewed the savant Daniel Tammet for her first book and pointed out that he, too, ultimately left a hardscrabble working-class environment in London for greener pastures more suitable to his sensitivities. He now lives in the heart of Paris.

He told her he felt stunted as a child due to his autism. He wasn’t very open to the world in his youth, not even the world of art. “I was very much in retreat,” he said. “But since then the evolution has been a result of a lot of work, a lot of love, and a lot of effort, and today, art plays a big role in my life—all kinds of art: painting, literature, and so on.”

Like Daniel, I needed to find my higher ground. I found a really good salesman whom I believed I could train to take over for me in the futon stores one day as manager, and that was a huge step in the right direction. He and I began looking for some great salespeople to add to the staff. However, I was still having some health issues and trying to stop taking prescription pain medicines. Between work and health problems, I couldn’t return to school yet. There were two groups of sufferers I could relate to now: people with TBIs, and people with chronic pain who got hooked on prescription medication. These two things clamped down on my life like a giant vise.