One of the advantages of visiting a regionally renowned rehab hospital such as the Shepherd Center is that one can expect to find the latest in technology regarding wheelchairs, environmental control units, and what have you. It just so happened I was having a seating clinic (my wheelchair and seat cushion are evaluated to see what, if anything, needs to be changed, adjusted or replaced) when I noticed a flyer on the wall advertising for volunteers for a tongue drive. I voiced my interest, and I was directed to speak with Joy Bruce, a physical therapist.
Joy, as it turns out, is an extremely dedicated and highly educated physical therapist here at Shepherd. She is completing her doctorate, which entails finishing her 300-page thesis on clinical trials, and she and the Shepherd Center are hosting two electrical engineers from Georgia Tech who are working on a tongue drive for the modern wheelchair.
Why a tongue drive you might ask. Some people such as myself may be so compromised by physical barriers that the tongue muscle is the most dexterous tool one has at one's disposal. Now I myself can drive a sip and puff wheelchair (see "To Sip or Not to Sip"), but I can't stand the way it makes me appear so disabled. I don't know why I am so self-conscious when it comes to levels of disability, but nevertheless I wish to appear as able-bodied as possible. This seems to be a common theme among those who are disabled, hence came the brainstorm of driving only with tongue motions.
Joy gave me some release papers to sign in advance of the test date, and reading them over I discovered that one has one's tongue is dried to facilitate a magnet being glued to it. In practice, one would have a tongue stud put in place of the glued magnet. That scared me right there, and I began to worry beforehand that maybe I didn't want to test-drive this baby after all.
The big day arrived, and I watched the clock as it approached the appointed hour. 4 p.m. came and went and by around five thirty I began thinking it wasn't going to happen. Then Joy popped in and asked if I were ready. I couldn't say no. Besides, it was in the name of science.
The Iranian had thick black hair, Groucho Marx eyebrows and an enthusiastic smile. His Chinese cohort was shorter, maybe a little younger, and wore glasses. And both men spoke with strong native accents. I was still in bed when they came, and they set up a very nice 22-inch Dell flat screen monitor along with a small laptop on one of my bedside tables. The Chinese had me stick out my tongue, which he dried with a paper towel, and then he attached a tiny magnet with a drop of a special adhesive that smelled just like crazy glue. A stereo headset that was jury-rigged with ultra-sensitive magnetic field sensors was placed on my head. A very fine golden-colored wire that was attached to the magnet in my tongue dangled out of my mouth, and the Chinese wrapped the end around one of the magnetic field sensors. It was there to keep me from swallowing the magnet, the Iranian told me, but it felt like a hair on my tongue.
Once the magnet was in place and the sensors were positioned just so, I trained on the computer so it could understand and interpret my tongue movements -- not unlike training voice recognition software to understand one's voice. The sensors sent signals to the laptop, and a specially tailored computer program tracked the magnet's position in all three axes.
The Iranian, who seemed to be in charge, coached me in how to best move my tongue so the computer could differentiate between six different positions. The first two positions consisted of my moving the tip of my tongue first to my lower left eyetooth and then to the right one, which moved the mouse left and right on the screen. The second two positions were to my upper left and right incisors, which moved the mouse up and down, and finally the last two positions were accomplished by sticking my tongue in either cheek that would control mouse click and double-click functions.
As I finished training with each set of tongue positions, I practiced with simple computer games. Finally, a computer program tested my reaction time. I had figured all this was a prelude to actually driving a wheelchair, but after it was over the two men packed up and left. I was confused. Had this all been only an exercise? Was there more testing to be done? Were they only collecting data to be used towards something else besides a tongue drive? Or was the tongue drive only for moving a mouse?
I was left pondering all these questions when Joy reappeared and told me they would be getting me up out of bed and into a wheelchair to test the tongue drive after dinner. Yes! This was going to be exciting.
(Next: The Tongue Drive -- Part Two)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Animation of Don Hertzfeldt
I seem to be going through a period of writer's block; either that, or I'm just plain lazy. So instead I direct your attention to Don Hertzfeldt, animator extraordinaire. Before last night I'd never heard of him, but after a visit to atom.com -- a website for amateur and professional short comedy films -- I viewed Rejected, and I knew I was on to something special.
With influences from Stanley Kubrick to Monty Python, Mr. Hertzfeldt is both extremely talented and totally irreverent, a combination I find refreshing and charming. Born in 1976, he taught himself animation as a teenager and has been writing and producing his own animations since his 1995 "Ah L'Amour" brought him commercial success. In 2000, "Rejected" earned him an Academy award nomination for best short animation as well as a score of other awards including recognition at the Cannes film Festival. He's currently on a 16 week tour with his 22 minute "Everything Will Be Okay"
Hertzfeldt uses the old-school animation technique of drawing each frame and photographing it with a 16mm or 35mm camera. It's a painstaking process that beckons back to high school days of drawing flip-page cartoons in the page margins of textbooks.
Rejected
Another Hertzfeldt gem is his 1996 "Genre," an exploration of the modern movie.
Genre
Here is "Ah L'Amour," Hertzfeldt's look at dating rituals as might be practiced by the present-day teenager.
Ah, L'Amour
With influences from Stanley Kubrick to Monty Python, Mr. Hertzfeldt is both extremely talented and totally irreverent, a combination I find refreshing and charming. Born in 1976, he taught himself animation as a teenager and has been writing and producing his own animations since his 1995 "Ah L'Amour" brought him commercial success. In 2000, "Rejected" earned him an Academy award nomination for best short animation as well as a score of other awards including recognition at the Cannes film Festival. He's currently on a 16 week tour with his 22 minute "Everything Will Be Okay"
Hertzfeldt uses the old-school animation technique of drawing each frame and photographing it with a 16mm or 35mm camera. It's a painstaking process that beckons back to high school days of drawing flip-page cartoons in the page margins of textbooks.
Rejected
Another Hertzfeldt gem is his 1996 "Genre," an exploration of the modern movie.
Genre
Here is "Ah L'Amour," Hertzfeldt's look at dating rituals as might be practiced by the present-day teenager.
Ah, L'Amour
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