A Word on Neurological Integrity

Every week I go to Lansing for tests to determine the extent to which my brain is damaged.
As the weeks and months go by, I feel better and better. I can do so much more, so long as I don't get overtired. And I don't get tired as quickly, but when I do I definitely know it; it makes me feel nauseous and dizzy, and I get "ping-pong eyes" again.
Once a week, though, I pretty much have to go in for those tests, and also therapy for the PTSD and other issues plaguing me. On those days, I am a stumbling, babbling idiot by the end of the day. Reality lands on me like a piano and I forget which side of the car is the driver's side, or I forget the difference between a lion and a tiger. On those days, I don't tell myself "Why am I wasting so much time at the neurologist's office taking all these tests when I feel fine? Are they just telling me something's wrong with me for the money, or to meet the requirements for insurance coverage?....um, what color is a stop-sign again?"
The funny thing is, though, that the part of my brain that's supposed to regulate and inform me of how well I'm doing is one of the parts of my brain that's damaged. Now doesn't that sound like a handy diagnosis to give someone who has a brain injury? "Oh, your brain is in denial. It says you're fine, but you really aren't."
But again, my brain is obviously addled on long days.