We'd both been looking forward to this past weekend, because Mike had both Saturday and Sunday off. The plan was to spend Saturday morning working in the yard, then go antiquing on Government Street. I got up with the cats at 4:30 and let Mike sleep in until about 7:00 or so. He got up and made coffee, and went out for the paper. He reported that the temperature was quite low, and that we probably wouldn't be doing yard work. I agreed.
I shall draw a veil over the next hour or so; let's just say that we did the sort of thing that married people do on a Saturday morning when they have no demands on their time. I didn't think much about it when he said he felt "disoriented" and asked how things went (as it were). I thought he was asking for a little ego stroking.
I showered and dressed and went out to fix breakfast. He was on Facebook or something, and said he wanted something "eggy" for breakfast. Settled on poached eggs on toast. While I was cooking, the cats came tearing through the flap and dashed down the hall. I looked out to see our neighbor, Mike Hemphill, going out his back gate and walking behind our fence to our neighbor on the other side, Mike Poccarello -- and yes, they are all named Mike.
Mike came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I mentioned the cats' behavior, and he seemed surprised to hear that Mike H. was back, even though he had told me that the day before. He watched me with the eggs for a minute or two, then saw Mike H. head back home. Next thing I knew, he'd gone out to talk to Mike, with breakfast almost on the table. Now I realize that he'd forgotten all about breakfast, but at the time, I was irritated and decided I'd eat mine hot alone if I had to. We later confirmed that he had, indeed, gone next door in his underwear and bare feet.
He showed back up just as I was sitting down to eat, and seemed pleasantly surprised to find breakfast ready. We ate and talked about what we would do with the day. He repeated that it was too cold to work in the yard. He asked me when he was working again. I told him Monday. He looked at the calendar and said, "No, I'm working tomorrow." "No, that was last week. Today in the 11th." "Oh. I'm not working again until Monday." "Right." A minute or two later, he got up and stood in front of the calendar. "What are you doing?" "Checking to see when I'm working again." SIGH! Men never listen!!
I told him to take a shower and get dressed. He asked what we were doing. I told him that we hadn't decided, and that we would decide after he'd taken a shower and dressed. He pulled the neck of his t-shirt up around his head and paraded around the kitchen in his "new hoodie." I laughed, and then told him again to go take a shower. He went down to his bathroom, then came back and said, "Look at my new hoodie." I laughed, less loudly, and said he was funny, now go take a shower. He asked what we were doing that day. I told him we would decide after he'd taken a shower and got dressed. He wandered out of the kitchen, toward his bathroom. I continued to read the paper. He came back in, still with the t-shirt over his head, and said, "Look at me." I ignored him. He repeated, "Look at me. . . You're not looking at me and I'm doing something funny." I told him that I had looked at him, and it was time to to cut it out with the silly game . He asked "What game?" We went back and forth, with me getting more irritated by the minute and him insisting that he did not know what I was talking about. I threatened to go to my office if he didn't stop.
He finally got in the shower. When he got out, he dried off and pulled on his socks and underwear, and we discussed what we would do and decided to go for a tour of the YMCA. He called and asked if we needed an appointment, which we did not. I told him to get dressed so could go. He said, "Don't you think I should take a shower first? ", stripped, and headed for the shower. I shouted, "You already took one!" He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes. I'm sure. This is not funny." "What isn't?" Rolled eyes.
Finally headed over to the YMCA and spent a good 30-45 minutes touring the facility and getting information, then came back home. We decided to play a game of Scrabble on his Kindle Fire, then have lunch and decide what else to do. From my point of view, he pretended not to know how to use his Kindle. He asked again whether he was working that day. He kept saying that "These aren't very good letters" and then making 3 or 4 letter words. After 3 or 4 turns, he asked, "Aren't we going to do anything at all today?" I said, "You mean besides going to the YMCA?" He said, "Did we go to the YMCA? I don't remember."
"Get your shoes on. We're going." "Where?" "To Urgent Care." I suppose I should have taken him to the Emergency Room, but -- I don't know. I didn't really know what to do, and Urgent Care is just around the corner. I knew that, if he was playing some really annoying game, he wouldn't carry it that far.
We got to Urgent Care (which, coincidentally, is in YMCA Plaza, where we'd been just an hour before) and I told them that he couldn't remember anything that had happened that morning. They took him back immediately, and a physician's assistant and later the urgent care doctor both tested him for stroke symptoms. He had none, except that his blood pressure was around 183. They told me to take him to the Emergency Room, where he could be seen by a neurologist and have a CT scan. By now he was frightened. He kept saying, every 3 or 4 minutes, "I didn't expect to be here today."
We drove over to Our Lady of the Lake Emergency Room. I gave them the referral and they took him right back to an exam room. His b.p. was about 177. First the emergency room doctor (I think he was probably 15 years old) performed the same tests as the urgent care doctor, and asked me for details. Mike knew his name, where he was, and what day it was, but not the date or year. At some point, they brought in a mobile x-ray machine for a chest x-ray. And, of course, did the usual blood and urine samples. They took him for the CT scan, then we had to wait for the radiologist. The scan was normal, but they were going to admit him for observation over night -- partly because they still had no idea what was wrong with him, other than that it wasn't a stroke or TIA.
So then the hospitalist came, a slightly older teenager. She performed the same tests and, again, asked me for details. Mike told her, "We went for a tour of the . . . (looks at me, "YMCA") YMCA this morning. I have absolutely no memory of that. " 5 minutes later, he told her again. She asked, "Do you remember telling me that before?" He did not.
She left to call the neurologist, then returned to say that he said it sounded like "transient global amnesia." Mike told her about going to the YMCA. She asked if he remembered telling her before, which he didn't. She left to take care of the admittance papers. Of course, various technicians, nurses, and admitting personnel were coming and going the entire time, as well as other patients.
The neurologist arrived maybe 30 minutes later. He asked Mike what happened, and he told him about the YMCA. I provided additional details. He then performed various tests and definitively diagnosed "transient global amnesia." He explained that he saw about one case every month or so ; that it clears up within 24 hours and that it is unlikely to recur. However they would do an MRI just to be safe, but that Mike was already doing better. Mike said, "Yes." I said, "No. He just doesn't realize it." Mike then told him about the YMCA again. The doctor and I looked at each other. "He doesn't remember what he doesn't remember."
During the four hours we were waiting, our conversation was, "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." "No, I didn't either." Lowered voice, "I think I might have had a mini-stroke." "Maybe. Let's wait and see what the doctors say." "So, do you think I'm going into hospital?" "Yes, they said they'll be admitting you." "Oh. I don't want to go to hospital. . . Will you bring me a care package?" "Yes." "I'll need my Kindle. And the charger. And the headphones. And a change of underpants. And some pajamas. And some socks." "Ok." Silence for 3 or 4 minutes. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." etc. After the neurologist gave his diagnosis, it also included, "Thank you for flying Transient Global Amnesia, the airline that . . . er . . . uh."
Finally, around 6:00, someone came to take him down for the MRI. From there, he would be admitted, so I gathered his stuff and went with him. We passed the cafeteria on our way to the lab. After they left us in the waiting area, he told me I should go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I did a little happy dance, because clearly his memory was returning. I think it was the aroma of french fries that brought him around.
After the MRI, we were taken up to his room on the 4th floor. He was surprised to be given a private room, and agreed that there was no need for a care package. Not only was it already almost 7:30, he would be able to watch whatever he wanted on t.v.
He was released the next morning, almost reluctantly. It's not often that he gets to lie around in bed, watch television, and ordering his meals from room service. He's also asked if there's any way we can buy a set of the leg massagers they used overnight to prevent blood clots.
It was indeed, as Bette Davis promised, a bumpy ride, but we have landed safely and all is back to normal -- meaning he forgets things, but remembers that he's forgotten, and doesn't listen to me, but knows it.
I shall draw a veil over the next hour or so; let's just say that we did the sort of thing that married people do on a Saturday morning when they have no demands on their time. I didn't think much about it when he said he felt "disoriented" and asked how things went (as it were). I thought he was asking for a little ego stroking.
I showered and dressed and went out to fix breakfast. He was on Facebook or something, and said he wanted something "eggy" for breakfast. Settled on poached eggs on toast. While I was cooking, the cats came tearing through the flap and dashed down the hall. I looked out to see our neighbor, Mike Hemphill, going out his back gate and walking behind our fence to our neighbor on the other side, Mike Poccarello -- and yes, they are all named Mike.
Mike came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I mentioned the cats' behavior, and he seemed surprised to hear that Mike H. was back, even though he had told me that the day before. He watched me with the eggs for a minute or two, then saw Mike H. head back home. Next thing I knew, he'd gone out to talk to Mike, with breakfast almost on the table. Now I realize that he'd forgotten all about breakfast, but at the time, I was irritated and decided I'd eat mine hot alone if I had to. We later confirmed that he had, indeed, gone next door in his underwear and bare feet.
He showed back up just as I was sitting down to eat, and seemed pleasantly surprised to find breakfast ready. We ate and talked about what we would do with the day. He repeated that it was too cold to work in the yard. He asked me when he was working again. I told him Monday. He looked at the calendar and said, "No, I'm working tomorrow." "No, that was last week. Today in the 11th." "Oh. I'm not working again until Monday." "Right." A minute or two later, he got up and stood in front of the calendar. "What are you doing?" "Checking to see when I'm working again." SIGH! Men never listen!!
I told him to take a shower and get dressed. He asked what we were doing. I told him that we hadn't decided, and that we would decide after he'd taken a shower and dressed. He pulled the neck of his t-shirt up around his head and paraded around the kitchen in his "new hoodie." I laughed, and then told him again to go take a shower. He went down to his bathroom, then came back and said, "Look at my new hoodie." I laughed, less loudly, and said he was funny, now go take a shower. He asked what we were doing that day. I told him we would decide after he'd taken a shower and got dressed. He wandered out of the kitchen, toward his bathroom. I continued to read the paper. He came back in, still with the t-shirt over his head, and said, "Look at me." I ignored him. He repeated, "Look at me. . . You're not looking at me and I'm doing something funny." I told him that I had looked at him, and it was time to to cut it out with the silly game . He asked "What game?" We went back and forth, with me getting more irritated by the minute and him insisting that he did not know what I was talking about. I threatened to go to my office if he didn't stop.
He finally got in the shower. When he got out, he dried off and pulled on his socks and underwear, and we discussed what we would do and decided to go for a tour of the YMCA. He called and asked if we needed an appointment, which we did not. I told him to get dressed so could go. He said, "Don't you think I should take a shower first? ", stripped, and headed for the shower. I shouted, "You already took one!" He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes. I'm sure. This is not funny." "What isn't?" Rolled eyes.
Finally headed over to the YMCA and spent a good 30-45 minutes touring the facility and getting information, then came back home. We decided to play a game of Scrabble on his Kindle Fire, then have lunch and decide what else to do. From my point of view, he pretended not to know how to use his Kindle. He asked again whether he was working that day. He kept saying that "These aren't very good letters" and then making 3 or 4 letter words. After 3 or 4 turns, he asked, "Aren't we going to do anything at all today?" I said, "You mean besides going to the YMCA?" He said, "Did we go to the YMCA? I don't remember."
"Get your shoes on. We're going." "Where?" "To Urgent Care." I suppose I should have taken him to the Emergency Room, but -- I don't know. I didn't really know what to do, and Urgent Care is just around the corner. I knew that, if he was playing some really annoying game, he wouldn't carry it that far.
We got to Urgent Care (which, coincidentally, is in YMCA Plaza, where we'd been just an hour before) and I told them that he couldn't remember anything that had happened that morning. They took him back immediately, and a physician's assistant and later the urgent care doctor both tested him for stroke symptoms. He had none, except that his blood pressure was around 183. They told me to take him to the Emergency Room, where he could be seen by a neurologist and have a CT scan. By now he was frightened. He kept saying, every 3 or 4 minutes, "I didn't expect to be here today."
We drove over to Our Lady of the Lake Emergency Room. I gave them the referral and they took him right back to an exam room. His b.p. was about 177. First the emergency room doctor (I think he was probably 15 years old) performed the same tests as the urgent care doctor, and asked me for details. Mike knew his name, where he was, and what day it was, but not the date or year. At some point, they brought in a mobile x-ray machine for a chest x-ray. And, of course, did the usual blood and urine samples. They took him for the CT scan, then we had to wait for the radiologist. The scan was normal, but they were going to admit him for observation over night -- partly because they still had no idea what was wrong with him, other than that it wasn't a stroke or TIA.
So then the hospitalist came, a slightly older teenager. She performed the same tests and, again, asked me for details. Mike told her, "We went for a tour of the . . . (looks at me, "YMCA") YMCA this morning. I have absolutely no memory of that. " 5 minutes later, he told her again. She asked, "Do you remember telling me that before?" He did not.
She left to call the neurologist, then returned to say that he said it sounded like "transient global amnesia." Mike told her about going to the YMCA. She asked if he remembered telling her before, which he didn't. She left to take care of the admittance papers. Of course, various technicians, nurses, and admitting personnel were coming and going the entire time, as well as other patients.
The neurologist arrived maybe 30 minutes later. He asked Mike what happened, and he told him about the YMCA. I provided additional details. He then performed various tests and definitively diagnosed "transient global amnesia." He explained that he saw about one case every month or so ; that it clears up within 24 hours and that it is unlikely to recur. However they would do an MRI just to be safe, but that Mike was already doing better. Mike said, "Yes." I said, "No. He just doesn't realize it." Mike then told him about the YMCA again. The doctor and I looked at each other. "He doesn't remember what he doesn't remember."
During the four hours we were waiting, our conversation was, "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." "No, I didn't either." Lowered voice, "I think I might have had a mini-stroke." "Maybe. Let's wait and see what the doctors say." "So, do you think I'm going into hospital?" "Yes, they said they'll be admitting you." "Oh. I don't want to go to hospital. . . Will you bring me a care package?" "Yes." "I'll need my Kindle. And the charger. And the headphones. And a change of underpants. And some pajamas. And some socks." "Ok." Silence for 3 or 4 minutes. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." etc. After the neurologist gave his diagnosis, it also included, "Thank you for flying Transient Global Amnesia, the airline that . . . er . . . uh."
Finally, around 6:00, someone came to take him down for the MRI. From there, he would be admitted, so I gathered his stuff and went with him. We passed the cafeteria on our way to the lab. After they left us in the waiting area, he told me I should go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I did a little happy dance, because clearly his memory was returning. I think it was the aroma of french fries that brought him around.
After the MRI, we were taken up to his room on the 4th floor. He was surprised to be given a private room, and agreed that there was no need for a care package. Not only was it already almost 7:30, he would be able to watch whatever he wanted on t.v.
He was released the next morning, almost reluctantly. It's not often that he gets to lie around in bed, watch television, and ordering his meals from room service. He's also asked if there's any way we can buy a set of the leg massagers they used overnight to prevent blood clots.
It was indeed, as Bette Davis promised, a bumpy ride, but we have landed safely and all is back to normal -- meaning he forgets things, but remembers that he's forgotten, and doesn't listen to me, but knows it.
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