Struck by Genius: How a Brain Injury Made Me a Mathematical Marvel (28 page)

I wanted to continue moving toward becoming the new me, however. One thing I wanted to do to put a final stamp of approval on my acquired conditions and give me more insight was visit the man who had offered me so much hope in my years of isolation: psychiatrist Darold Treffert, the world authority on savants. I’d found Dr. Treffert to be a paternal and caring physician during our previous phone conversations. If there was one person who could point the way forward, it was this octogenarian in Wisconsin. I’m not being facetious or religious when I say that receiving a confirmation of my diagnosis from him would be akin to getting the pope’s blessing. I wanted to see him partly because he was an internationally renowned medical professional but also because I had the feeling that this was where it had all started for me—seeing him on the television program with Tammet had been my first hint that I might be a synesthete and a savant.

Maureen made the arrangements around Dr. Treffert’s busy schedule in late October 2012 and we agreed to fly from our respective coasts and meet in Chicago. From there, we would drive the rest of the way together to Fond du Lac, a beautiful little town whose name means “Foot of the Lake” that’s situated on the southern shore of Lake Winnebago.

We were not there long when I declared, “I could totally live here!” It is a picturesque and friendly place, and I fell in love with it.

We planned to meet the doctor at a restaurant he’d recommended called Theo’s. I found myself a little nervous to finally greet him face-to-face. He’d examined and befriended so many extraordinary savants in his career, some four hundred in fifty years. Only thirty of them had acquired savantism later in life. He’d written authoritative books on the topic, including
Islands of Genius
and
Extraordinary People,
as well as countless academic papers. How would I measure up?

In
Islands of Genius,
Dr. Treffert called people like me halfway savants—the
halfway
not an indicator of abilities but a reference to having fewer tradeoffs than those born with savant syndrome. Even though I now suffer from OCD, PTSD, and extreme empathy, among other things, I do think I’ve had only minor cognitive and neuropsychological reactions to my injuries compared to other savants.

Maureen and I walked into Theo’s, and there at the bar nursing an ice water was the unmistakable white-haired man, as big as a bear and with a kindly smile. We said hello and he stood and I felt he was as large as his renown; he simply towered over us. After a warm handshake from him, I felt all of my nervousness dissipate.

We were seated for dinner and were joined by a colleague from Stockholm, Carrie C. Firman, the synesthetic artist; she was now teaching in nearby Madison.

It was a fascinating night: Dr. Treffert spoke on the many cases he’d had over the decades and took the time to ask about the types of synesthesia of all present. We finished up early, our bellies full of Wisconsin cheese-connoisseur favorites like Parmesan fries and beer-cheese soup. We planned to meet him at his office at St. Agnes Hospital the next morning at 9:00 for my formal interview. Then we’d have lunch at a church-turned-restaurant called Trinity and go on to his home office for further discussion.

I was tingling when I rose the next morning, and it was not the muscle tremors but the anticipation I felt about finally sitting down officially with the dean of savants. Maureen and I made our way over to the hospital, and Dr. Treffert greeted us in the glass-enclosed, light-filled modern lobby. First he walked us into a chapel to show us the labyrinth on the floor that people use for meditation there. He pointed out how much it looked like my drawings. He was right. I had never seen a more meaningful or intriguing space; it even had a waterfall that pulled my eye as much as the geometry of the labyrinth, given how much I love to watch flowing water. We headed to the hospital library and took our seats at a round wooden table.

We began the conversation with my talking about the night of the mugging. It all came back into scary focus as I described the sights and smells and sounds. I answered questions about my complicated family history, my previous and current interests, and my new abilities. After having me demonstrate some of my drawing ability about an hour into our meeting, Dr. Treffert paused to reflect:

“I think your case is truly amazing: the suddenness of it; the drama of your drawings as well as your newfound arithmetic ability is in itself startling. And there is also very little tradeoff of other abilities, which I think is encouraging . . . In that sense I think you’re a really good ambassador for traumatic brain injury individuals—showing a great deal of optimism and hope and indeed overcoming what happened.”

Listening to him made me realize yet again that I was more fortunate than many. I was also encouraged to hear that although Dr. Treffert knew I had many tradeoffs, he considered them relatively minimal.

After lunch, we followed Dr. Treffert’s SUV, with its
SAVANTS
license plate, out to his home, which was set on several acres of prime woodland. When I was a kid, my dad had an RV and took my family to every state, and this part of the country was as pretty as any I’d ever seen. We passed patchwork fields of farms on the highway and soon arrived at his residence. In a clearing on one side of his house, he had an orchard filled with many varieties of fruit trees, and he took us on a walk on a trail just beyond his home, a wide, level path where a railroad track had once been. We hiked across a bridge, and ahead of us to the left was the most picturesque waterfall. Even at a late-fall trickle, it was breathtaking. I saw, within the outcroppings of the rocks there, the webby water features I began every morning with when I turned on the bathroom faucet. In this setting, they were even more tantalizing.

Dr. Treffert walked us back to his home and gave us signed copies of
Islands of Genius
. I was allergic to his cat so I waited downstairs near his office while Maureen toured the inside of the well-appointed home with him and his charming wife, Dorothy. I turned to the chapter in his book that had meant so much to me. His summary filled me with a sense of pride and wonder:

“Acquired” savant syndrome or “accidental genius” is the most important new development in the study of savant syndrome since it was first described over a century ago. It is particularly important to note how many such cases include
left
(dominant)
hemisphere dysfunction
with the release of dormant
right
(non-dominant)
hemisphere capacity
(paradoxical functional facilitation) as opposed to development of entirely new skills. In some instances there is a noticeable diminution of certain cognitive or other abilities with the emergence of new skills (acquired savant) but in other cases only minor, barely significant, detrimental trade-off occurs and these persons continue to function at a very high level overall (“halfway” savant).

Even though the brain testing I had undergone in Helsinki had shown that this description didn’t exactly fit what had happened to my brain, the passage still made me realize how special and rare this all was.

We spent our last night in Wisconsin at the American Club in nearby Kohler, Wisconsin, a town named for the plumbing-and-housewares manufacturer headquartered there. Dr. Treffert should really be the governor of Wisconsin, or at least its tourism director, because he showed us so many of the highlights of his region. The American Club is a luxury spa and resort now but it was built in 1918 to house the poor immigrant workers employed by the company’s founder. As we ascended the stairs at the club, I could almost hear their weary voices echoing through the remaining exposed brick that lent so much character to the place.

As we entered the dining room, however, I saw why it was the Midwest’s only AAA Five Diamond resort hotel—it was brimming with custom woodwork, tapestries, and fine furniture.

Dr. Treffert ordered his standard drink, not an ice water this time but an old-fashioned, and Maureen and I got the same. We toasted our meeting, and I wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or the company, but I felt more warm and relaxed than I had in ages. Meeting Dr. Treffert and having his imprimatur on my case meant the world to me. I felt part of a rare fraternity now.

Chapter Eighteen

A
FTER YEARS OF
speculation and confusion, I finally have a fledgling sense of a real identity. I feel optimistic, thanks to my conference debut, the new community of synesthetes around me, the findings of the first detailed scans of my brain, and especially my meeting with the legendary Dr. Treffert. It’s like I’ve just been formally introduced to my new self after years of having two beings co-inhabit my battered body: the old me and the suddenly new me. I’m ready to remember the way I was without regret and move on more fully into the unexplored territory that is me
now:
the world’s only known person with acquired savant syndrome and acquired synesthesia.

Based on everything I’ve learned so far, I have to agree with Dr. Treffert’s and Dr. Snyder’s theory that the visions I (and my fellow synesthetes) see and the capabilities I (and my fellow savants) have are available to everyone. I believe I am living proof that these powers lie dormant in all of us. Given my anemic educational background prior to my attack, nothing in my life up to that point could account for these abilities. Not a thing was added; rather, the knowledge was uncovered from some deep and mysterious place.

Just ask my parents. “You knew no mathematical terms at all before this; none, zero,” my dad said when I asked him what he thought of the changes in me. “The math is a complete right turn—you’re going down the highway and then just turn ninety degrees differently. It opened up an intellectual window that wasn’t there before. It’s pretty remarkable. I’m a pretty analytical guy so I wouldn’t call it a miracle. But it’s something.”

My mom was just as surprised by my new abilities and interests. “It was like a fountain had been turned on flowing out of your mouth, your ears, your skin, with information coming faster than you could keep up with,” she said. “You can’t look at anything without seeing the underlying geometry of it. Maybe I need the tint you have on your glasses on mine!”

As for the scientists, they’re still working on their theories to explain what happened in my brain. Dr. Treffert contends that genetic memory was released as my brain rewired itself and healed. As he wrote in his book
Islands of Genius,
“Genetic memory is simply the biological transfer of
knowledge, templates, and certain skills
along with the myriad of other inherited physical characteristics, instincts, traits, and behaviors.” This genetic memory isn’t a Padgett family heirloom being passed from one generation to the next in my family tree, but rather a shared genetic memory among all of humankind. It’s as if we all come preloaded with this knowledge. The idea that human DNA might come with some sort of blueprint of hidden capabilities fascinates me most of all.

Dr. Treffert taught me about the three R’s as they pertain to what happened to my brain. They stand for brain
rewiring,
recruitment
of unused capacity, and
release
of dormant potential. Though these are present in people who are born with savant syndrome, he explained, their existence has been severely underestimated in the rest of us. Cases like mine prove a far greater plasticity of the brain in its ability to heal itself than was previously thought. He said that this has implications not only for brain-injury survivors like me but also for those who have autism, neurological damage from strokes, or nervous system disorders. This makes me feel hopeful that my experience may one day help other people.

I’ve learned so much on this journey. To be one person and then, suddenly, to become another has given me the ability to empathize with a wide range of people. Before my injury, I did not have much interest in, or patience for, those who pursued academic knowledge. Now I have the highest respect for such people. Similarly, I have empathy for young people who get a little lost in the party scene and lose their way academically. I may not be like them anymore, but I have thought about how that can deaden a lot of pain and keep one afloat during difficult times.

And where my communication with other people was once often superficial, if pleasant, I now have almost daily conversations with the customers at my store about the very meaning of life and how the universe works. My art is central to sharing these ideas with others. To me it is the fundamental nature of things, but will it end up shedding light on the nature of the cosmos when considered by top mathematicians and astrophysicists? I would like to start that conversation and humbly share whatever is going on in my mind with key people from many fields. To me, the beauty and symmetry of what I see and draw signals some greater truth. Dr. Jean-Pierre Luminet, the French astrophysicist, writer, and poet, considered geometric art’s importance in his 2009 paper “Science, Art and Geometrical Imagination.” He said, “Modern physicists such as John Wheeler and Roger Penrose insist on the significance of aesthetics in choosing and evaluating scientific theories. According to Penrose, ‘It is a mysterious thing, in fact, how something which looks attractive may have a better chance of being true than something which looks ugly.’”

I agree with this assessment. To me, the truth of what I’m seeking lies in the beauty of what I see. In his new book
Measurement,
mathematician Paul Lockhart also supports this idea. “What makes a mathematician,” he wrote, “is not technical skill or encyclopedic knowledge but insatiable curiosity and a desire for simple beauty.”

I still have so much more to learn. I need more background in mathematics and physics and supporting subjects in order to better understand the value of what I’m seeing and drawing. My new wetware didn’t come with an instruction manual, but I believe that more formal study of these subjects will allow me to wield my new talents with greater clarity and focus.