The Driver Hits a Pothole

Sunday night, November 20th.

My wife and I were sitting at home, watching the Elton John concert livestreamed from Dodger Stadium. A concert I’d looked forward to since I first learned of it.

Since the concert didn’t start until 10 PM in our time zone, it ended sometime after midnight.

Around that time, before the show ended, I suddenly became confused and agitated, asking my wife repeatedly, “Is it midnight, already? Did we miss the concert? Did I go to sleep?”

(The concert was still on, mind you.)

“No, dear,” she assured me, “we didn’t miss it.” She had to tell me that over and over. She also said she didn’t know for sure if I fell asleep, because she did, too, briefly.

After the concert, when we went to bed, I didn’t recognize the blanket that had been on there for awhile. Or the box on top of it, where we would usually pet Lizzy.

She asked me where we last went on a cruise. I said, Alaska. Which we did, in 2019.

But we took a New England cruise late September. This year.

She asked me what year it is. I said, “Two thousand…something.”

She asked me who the President is. After a few seconds, I replied…”Obama?” 0 for 3 on this test.

“Okay,” she said, “we’re going to the hospital.” And we did.

Two things you should probably know about me at this point. One, I have Type 2 diabetes. Two, I have a history of stroke in my immediate family.

I didn’t have any of the typical symptoms of a stroke, though; my face wasn’t drooping, my speech wasn’t slurred, I didn’t experience weakness, numbness or loss of balance.

I just suddenly couldn’t remember things.

In the hospital Monday morning, my wife was asking me questions about things we did recently, and I couldn’t remember them. And I kept asking her why we were at the hospital, having forgotten all the times I’d already asked her.

I was getting scared. She, understandably, was already there.

So, I had an MRI done; nothing wrong was found. I had an EEG done; nothing wrong was found. I had a carotid ultrasound done; can you guess how that turned out?

Oh, and I wore a heart monitor overnight to check for atrial fibrillation. Nothing wrong there, either.

They checked my blood sugar when I got there, and it was normal. I did have an elevated blood pressure, though, but who doesn’t when they’re in the emergency room?

So basically, the doctor had no explanation for what happened. Granted, it would probably be easier to determine while it was actually happening, but while they kept me there for observation, it didn’t happen again. And it hasn’t since.

And no, it never had before, either.

I was sent home after one night in the hospital, a couple of days before Thanksgiving. Needless to say, I was a little more thankful this year. Mainly, to still be around.

Well, as it happened, I had an appointment with my primary care doctor the following Monday. He’d already looked over the details from my hospital visit, and concluded I had probably experienced a TIA, or Trans Ischemic Attack.

I knew about these from my father and brother having them.

Also known as a mini-stroke, it leaves no permanent damage; it just serves notice that something bigger might be coming down the line.

So, I guess it’s finally about time to give up this whole denial routine I’ve had going for so long.

There’s more to this story, and I’ll tell you about it in the next post.

Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

4 thoughts on “The Driver Hits a Pothole

  1. Wow, scary stuff, Larry. I’m glad you’re OK, and now you’re bound to be super vigilant about stroke symptoms in the future. That could be life-saving.

    The very same thing happened to my neighbor, who’s a 78-year-old wonder woman, and she’s been totally fine since her incident. Here’s hoping you have similarly smooth sailing!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s