Devastating Diagnosis
Memories are imprinted on the brain like data on a hard drive. All the information Andrew had downloaded before the tumor (autobiographical details, motor skills and what he learned in school) was intact. But the tumor had damaged the software used to save new information, which is why the amnesia became glaringly obvious only when he was at college, in an unfamiliar environment.Doctors removed part of the tumor and zapped the rest with radiation, leaving Andrew so sick that he dropped 30 pounds. The cancer was gone, but his relief was short-lived, as he was told he'd probably never return to school. He had an above-average verbal IQ of 120, but his memory recall score was 68, comparable with that of a person who is developmentally challenged. His only career option would likely be a highly supervised manual-labor job.
"Even as they told me this, I knew I wanted to try to go back to school," Andrew says. "I didn't know if I could do it, but I was really motivated. I wanted to give it all I could to get my memory back."
His parents feared he was setting himself up for failure and asked him to check with his doctors, neuropsychologist Dustin Gordon, then a post-doctoral fellow, and his supervisor, Schretlen. Andrew was looking for a way to retrain his brain and improve his memory. The doctors had rarely seen someone so determined, so they agreed to devise strategies to help Andrew absorb information in class and while studying, as well as techniques for organizing his thoughts so he could write papers. He would have to work ten times harder than other students and, if he became overwhelmed, possibly have to quit school.
Andrew began by auditing an English class at nearby Howard Community College. Eventually he discovered that reading things at least five times increased his chance of retaining information. In class, he wrote detailed notes, and a note taker supplemented what he missed. He reread his notes several times a day, then retyped them and the textbook material. He crammed 12 hours a day, seven days a week, breaking only for class, meals or a workout. To remember lists and data, he used acronyms and mnemonics.
When he took the class for credit the next semester, he got an A. "I was happy," he says, "but unsure how I'd do in my other classes." He enrolled at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, taking just one or two courses a semester toward a bachelor's of science in health policy and administration.
While he'd found a way to compensate in the classroom, everyday life was still a challenge. He carried maps and lists when he went to the store, but one night, after leaving a Baltimore bar, he roamed the streets for hours. It was 3 a.m. when he finally found the lot where he'd parked. He now has a GPS on his cell and carries digital devices for recording reminders.
Andrew stuck with his program, and in May 2007, at age 29, more than a decade after he began, he got a standing ovation as he graduated with a 4.0.
Six months later, Andrew is at his desk in the offices of Erickson Retirement Communities in Catonsville, Baltimore, where he works as an operations associate. He'd told his future boss, Russ Caccamisi, about his memory problem during the interview. "It didn't concern me," Caccamisi says. "Those ten years in school showed Andrew's perseverance." He still uses the strategies from college, along with computer calendar reminders and the tools we all rely on to organize our frenzied lives. "What works best is repetition and using more than one way to remember something," Andrew says. "I'll write it, say it, record it and listen to it."
Of course, an imperfect memory is still frustrating. He likes movies but loses track of plots. He vaguely remembers a family trip to Hawaii and is trying to convince his parents that they should return. Then there are his beloved Redskins. Though he can't remember scores, he could tell you if they won. And when they lose? Sometimes, he says, it's good to forget.




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