Math Prodigies & Autistic Savants

On our vacation a couple weeks ago, I was terribly proud of myself. My daughter gave me a math problem to do in my head. She started with a 9-digit number times a 9-digit number, which caused me to howl with laughter. "I can't remember the numbers," I told her, "much less multiply them. Give me something reasonable."

She ended up giving me a 4-digit number times a 2-digit number, it may have been 5974 x 37. Due to the fact that 5974 is so closes to 6,000, I was able to do it easily. I just did 6x37, added three 0's to the end, then subtracted 37X26, which was a math problem I could do.

It was the first time I'd ever done a 4-digit times a 2-digit number in my head, and at age 51, I'm way out of practice. I was excited, and admittedly a bit proud.

Today, however, I'm finishing The Spark, which you absolutely must read. I'm having trouble finishing these last 20 pages because I keep writing about it.

It's about this autistic kid who was delivered from his autism by some brilliantly creative thinking by his mother. By "brilliantly creative," I mean her methods should have been obvious to everyone, but no one else thought of it. ("No one else thought of it" is an exaggeration, but since her central idea runs contrary to "mainline" therapy for autistic kids, I felt free to say that.)

Her child did not so much come out of autism as he was allowed to benefit from it. At one point, Kristin Barnett, the mother, says, "Trying to cure autism is like trying to cure science or art."

This video is about savant Stephen Wiltshire. Jacob Barnett can't draw like Stephen, but he can memorize cities like Stephen can.

I'm toward the end of the book—only 10 pages from the end—so now I'm getting to read the superstar stories and not just the "oh, wow, how are we ever going to get through this" stories. Let me try to quote you this one.

To set the story in place, Jake (Jacob Barnett, the autistic son), has a summer job researching theories relating to light and fiber-optics. His mom is wondering why he has so much free time, and Jake, who may be the smartest person in history, explains that he's been getting the problems he's been assigned solved on the drive home from the university.

This week, he said, would be the exception. He didn't think he'd be able to solve the latest problem he'd been given in time for his meeting on Tuesday.

   I launched into a stern lecture about the importance of a strong work ethic. "You have a job now, Jake. You're being paid, and people are counting on you to do whatever is asked of you. These problems are not optional. ... "

   "I'm not sure I can," he said. ... "In that case, you give your best effort," I told him. "... And remember, there's no shame in asking for help."

A couple hours after that, Jake was leaving the house with his brother. His mom checked on him, and he assured her that he thought he had something he could use. Mom was happy, proud that her son had done the work required of him.

When he went back to research on Tuesday, he called, very excited.

"I did it, Mom. I did it!"

   "Slow down, honey. What did you do?"

   "I solved it! I solved the problem!"

   "That's great! I'm so glad you stuck with it."

   "No, Mom, you don't understand. It was an open problem, a problem in math nobody has been able to solve. And I solved it!"

   I had misunderstood. This hadn't been any ordinary homework assignment, but the kind of problem that career mathematicians take months, years, even decades to unravel. Yet in two hours, between working on his jump shot and playing on the Xbox, Jake had solved it.

I know this story makes it sound like mom's bragging, but there is nothing boastful about this book.

Sponsored Link

The other story I wanted to tell you from the book is when his story finally hit the mainstream media and people began hearing about this amazing kid. A researcher on child prodigies asked if she could run tests on him, and because this researcher seemed to care for Jake and be very "human," Jake's parents allowed it.

In the midst of the test, she read him off 60 random animals. He recited them back in order. She then assigned random colors to each of the animals. He recited the animals back, with their colors, in order again. At that point, she moved on to other questions, then a few minutes later asked him about the animals and colors again. Once again, he recited them back, in order.

The researcher told Ms. Barnett, "No one has ever done that before. Never" (Paraphrase).

Ah, well, I'm still pretty proud of that multiplication problem I did for my daughter. I want to go practice multiplying again, because I saw a guy doing math tricks on a Youtube video, and I figured out there's a secret to multiplying two 5-digit numbers that should put that within my reach, too. I'd have to practice, though.

Anyway, the book is a lot better than I'm describing. I cried through large portions of it, and I think her central theme for teaching not just her own autistic child, but several others as well, is brilliant and obviously, incontrovertibly true.

Who will benefit from this book? You get to ride the incredibly roller coaster of this family's life. I had to take a walk when I read this completely overloaded mom suffered a stroke at age 30, caused by lupus, an incurable auto-immune disease. I couldn't keep reading. But the highs in this book are so high and so amazing that I had to keep a tissue box with me when reading it.

But both you and everyone you know will benefit from reading this book because you will get a new insight into human nature. Probably it won't be a completely new insight, but after you get done listening to Kristin Barnett, you are going to see places to apply that insight everywhere you go.

Now I have to go back to learning how to be a savant. I think it's just a matter of learning how to use different parts of your brain to do things a new way. I just have to find out if it's possible for me to make those kinds of adjustments in my brain. I'm hoping that being pretty weird already will give me a jump start.

15 Months Post-Transplant: A Review

Results really vary among those who have had a bone marrow transplant. In fact, not all of us survive. Some of us worry constantly about relapse, some (like me) never give it a thought, even though none of us can rule it out. In fact, the 2400 rads of radiation I got in my brain and body means that I have a high risk of new cancers beyond relapse.

I can't see the good in worrying about that, and for some reason (I chalk it up to God's grace) I seem to be able to "fret not," that's what I do: fret not.

Health and Exercise

I've taken a new tack on getting my stamina back. I was doing two-mile sessions, running some, but mostly walking. Progress has been slow, and that's probably because the exercise sessions took at least 35 minutes, often close to an hour if I include some warming up before and stretching afterward. As a result, I didn't do those sessions on a lot of days and just limited myself to calisthenics, 5-minute or 10-minute sessions several times a day.

So now I'm running every day, about as far as I can run without stopping, which is a little over 5 minutes outside and right at 4 minutes on the treadmill inside.

I still try to fit in the walks and calisthenic sessions (push-ups, sit-ups, and a bunch of exercises I made up), but I am also sure to get in exercise that gets me toward my goal of being able to return to jogging as a main exercise. It's the one exercise that I know from experience that I will stick to on an almost daily basis for years.

I've just been doing this for a week, and I upped the treadmill time to 4:15 (not much of an improvement, huh?). I'll let you know how progress goes.

I'm a little frustrated with the pushups. I do pushups almost every day, and sometimes I do sets. Other times, I do pushups 2 or 3 times in a day. I've been stuck at 12-14 pushups for about 3 months. Admittedly in December, I could only do 10 pushups, then 12 in January, and now I think I could do 14 and maybe 15 at any time. Hang on ...

Just 14.

Still, 10 pushups to 14 pushups in 3 months, taking into account the work I've put in, is almost depressing.

On the other hand, I would say that I have almost returned to my slow, overweight level of soccer skill that I had at 49. I don't have the endurance I did, but I'm almost back to that pitiful speed I had BL (Before Leukemia).

My plan is to work on sprints once I can run 2 miles straight and get faster than I was BL.

Ok, speaking of soccer. Want to see a couple cool photos?

I found out that if you're taking Coumadin, you might want to be careful about how aggressively you go after loose balls when you're playing goalie. Diving for loose balls around the goal is important, as is rushing the oncoming striker in a 1 on 1 situation, but when your blood is thin it can leave marks on your body that really worry your friends and family.

The picture on the left and below was at the peak of bruising. The picture on the right and above is today. I had to take today's picture myself, so it's not very good.

Okay, here's another couple pictures, taken at the Huntsville Space Museum:

I had to let you see this old guy climbing with all the kids at the space museum. My hands still have a lot of strength to regain, so I didn't dare try this, but some white-haired, 60-year-old guy tried it and did better than most of the kids.

I told him I was impressed later, and he said he was pretty sure he was going to regret it the next day. I was impressed anyway.

Revisiting My New Life's Resolution

I didn't make an actual New Year's resolution, but I did make a New Life Resolution when I got out of the hospital after the transplant last year. I was not going to live life by the urgent anymore. I was just going to make the best use of my time, worry less, trust God completely, sleep more, and emphasize people, not tasks.

I failed.

I've been crazy busy, taking on more responsibility than I should have, and living my old way. I get a lot done, some of it important, but in the end the urgent and important end up in the way of God's best for my life ... That means it ends up in the way of God's will for my life, and I end up living in rebellion to God while doing what is good, important, and necessary.

The good can be, and often is, the enemy of the best.

Recommitment time. I'll let you know how I do.

Second New Life Resolution

My other New Life Resolution was to quit being such a perfectionist. There's tons of stuff I've written that is sitting on my hard drive because it's not up to my standards. You would not believe how much. I've been writing almost every day for at least two decades, probably closer to three.

I'm not going back to edit this blog. I wanted to say all this, so I said it. Feedback welcome from you. Feedback from me, however, has proven too critical and has been counter-productive. I'm firing the critic part of me, and I'm keeping on only the writer and editor part. (The editor is critical, too, but he finishes his job eventually.)

Cancer Sucks ... or Not

Cancer is a devastating disease that has caused tragedy, heartbreak, and long, intense suffering for far too many people. Cancer really does suck, if you'll excuse my using such terminology.

So why do I cringe when I think about "cancer sucks" coming out of my mouth?

Well, because cancer didn't suck for me. My bout with leukemia was interesting and life-transforming. It was painful, but it wasn't lonely. In fact, it was one of the least lonely times of my life. It was extremely dangerous and survival was somewhat unlikely, but since I didn't spend any time worrying about that, it didn't bother me. I've wonderful adventures and experiences with great people before, but this is my most recent one.

It's a fond memory. It didn't suck at all.

I saw a T-shirt today that says, "It came. We fought. I won. Leukemia Survivor."

I want to change it a little bit, especially the word "fought." I didn't fight. I danced. So my T-shirt has to say:

Cancer came, we danced, I'm still alive.
Looking for the next adventure

The following designs are more my style. You can get them at GotCancer.org:

Or this one; I really like this one:

Actually, next step is 5K. (2 miles in about 32 minutes today; I'm just aiming for 3.1 miles in 45 minutes. Almost on pace!)

But the big goal, though maybe I'm just dreaming: Badwater

Nothing Shall Separate Us from the Love of God

Today my father-in-law's "Verse of the Day" talked about Romans 8:38-39, which says that Paul was convinced that no created thing and no trial (nor a bunch of other things) can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus. My father-in-law asked, "Can you honestly say that you are convinced?"

I believe that my over-a-year long battle with leukemia, its treatments, and its side effect was for that one purpose: God was trying to convince me that nothing would separate me from his love.

Mind you, I'm not a once-saved, always-saved person. Our own sin is not mentioned in Romans 8:38-39. We can separate ourselves from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus if we so choose.

Only a fool would choose that, but Satan has helped the Christian religious system become such that many, if not most, Christians are ill-equipped to live a Christian life. Christians have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires (Gal. 5:24). No, they're not perfect, but they are new and improved ... noticeably so.

If they're not, they're lying. They don't know God.

Hey, I'm just repeating 1 John 2:3-4 and 3:7-10. Oh, and for the "not perfect" part I'm quoting 1 John 1:7-2:2.

Anyway, I'm off topic.

I remember days when I could do nothing but lay there in bed. I could barely think, much less pray. I remember days of being on Dilaudid and dreaming every time I closed my eyes, whether I was asleep or not. I hate being out of control, and I was not confident of anything going on around me.

In that severely weakened state, the mental weakness worse than the physical weakness, God was always close. Sometimes I would quietly weep, a tear would run down my cheek, and I would thank him for taking such good care of me. On days like that the sins of my past would rise up before me, and I would be unable to understand why the grace of God was with me so strongly.

And God would whisper to me, "Somehow, some way I am going to convince you that I am always on your side."

There were other benefits to contracting leukemia. Yeah, I got the joy of having my faith tested, producing patience so that I can become perfect and complete, lacking nothing. Yeah, the pains and trials did things that aged me inside, so that two different strangers at two different times looked at me afterwards and gave me the best compliment I've ever had, "You are an old soul. I can see it."

Yeah, I got to go through adventures, wander close to death and get a good view of my own mortality, and I got to see and experience things only so many people get to see.

Admittedly, there were a lot of benefits, and overall it was an extremely wonderful time.

But clearly, above all, the best benefit and main purpose was that I would be convinced that nothing--not leukemia, not pain, not confusion, not depression, not complete incapacitation--could separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus my Lord.

People like me—who actually believe the old Gospel, the one Jesus, the apostles, and the Christians who heard the apostles believed—we're very prone to condemning ourselves because while it's true that those who don't obey the commands of God don't know God (1 Jn. 2:3-4), it is also true that those who do know God don't all obey perfectly.

God takes special care of the upright. He gives them grace to be not just upright, but to be able to live by an unearthly righteousness, the righteousness of God that is deeper than anything man can produce (Ps. 36:10; Php. 3:7-11; Gal. 2:20). That righteousness is beautiful to those who observe it in action (e.g., Ps. 90:17; Ps. 96:9; Zech. 9:17).

But even those possessed of such grace, upon whom others look with admiration, can be stricken with conscience. Their mourning over their own sins, no matter how merciful they are to the sins of others, is so deep as to be potentially unforgiving.

The grace of God is upon such humble mourners, and he devotes himself to convincing them of his love. He erases their doubts, and he puts the Holy Spirit in their hearts. He says, "Nothing, child, shall separate you from my love. I am for you, and nothing and no one shall set me against you."

If you're interested enough in this kind of talk, rather than focusing on leukemia, that you are wanting to look up all those Scriptures I referenced, I can make it easy for you. I'm going to go post a duplicate of this post on my "Old, Old Story" blog, where you can read those verses, thanks to refblogger.com by just pointing at them with your mouse.

Lexe Selman, Acute Myeloid Leukemia, and Soccer

LexeKicksLeukemia.blogspot.com supplanted by blog as the #1 result for "leukemia blog" on Google. Boy, am I glad. I love this story.

Have you ever played soccer? Have you ever had a full round of chemotherapy meant to put Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) into remission, and then played soccer?

I have. I played in a meadow with my sons and their friends. I played outside defense so I wouldn't be too much of a detriment to the team. At least there I could try to get in the way and slow an opposing striker down. Ten meter sprints were exhausting.

Lexe Selman plays at a much higher level than me. I'm one of those old men who's supposed to get leukemia that you'll hear about in her videos. In fact, at 50, I was young for an Acute Leukemia (AUL for me) patient.

Lexe was the captain of her high school soccer team. She had a soccer scholarship to the University of Arizona. Then, in April of her senior year, less than one year ago, she was diagnosed with AML.

What a life change, to be stricken by a cancer that normally hits men older than me.

I'm going to tell you this story in short form before I give you the video link.

After her first chemo, shortly before she had to go back for a second round, she went back to her club soccer team. She talked the doctors into letting her warm up with team. (There's a great picture of her warming up in a ski cap like I still wear often and a surgical mask.) The team enjoyed it so much that they asked the coach if she could start and stay in for one play. The idea was to pass it to her, have her kick it out, then be replaced.

That's not what happened. You have to see this kick she made. It's from a distance, taken with an iPhone, but there's no doubt about how good a kick it was.

And it was made between rounds of AML chemotherapy, which wipes out your bone marrow and thus your entire blood system, forcing you to survive on transplants until your blood system rebuilds over the next month, usually only to about 80% of what it was.

Enough said:

Go here and scroll down to June 3. That link will open a new window so that you can come back here and follow this link to get an update from a couple weeks ago.

I cried yesterday when I saw her videos, and I cried today when I found them again for this blog.

Man, do I love stories like this and attitudes like Lexe Selman's.