I’d tell you all about my experience with amnesia but frankly, I can’t remember much about it. My beloved can, however.
What I DO remember was taking down curtains in our son’s room, prepping for his impending boomerang. They haven’t been washed since they first went up, and the room is, frankly, a wee bit wiffy, so I was standing on the elderly bed (made of solid pine frame and dicey boards (“bucky boards”) lying perpendicular holding up the mattress, not attached to, well, anything, really.)
According to my honey, she had gone to answer the phone and heard a crash. When she dashed back in, I was on the floor.
My next full memory was easing into a wheelchair at the local ER.
Oddly, I have snippets of recollection in between. It was like listening to myself speak from another room, but I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.
“Uncle John’s DEAD?! When did he die?!” (He passed a good five weeks before this.). “Anyone else you need to tell me about?” (At least I didn’t lose my sense of humor.)
“J and E broke up??” (My daughter and her boyfriend had split a few weeks before.) “WHEN?”
“YES I know who the president is.” Scorn dripping from my voice. I had amnesia, but I wasn’t nuts. “Trump.” Evidently I only lost a few weeks of time.
According to my wife, I also inquired as to whether
a) she was employed and
b) I was employed.
She said that freaked her out some, given I’m the breadwinner in the family. Hello, long-term disability. Or not, since the federal government doesn’t offer it. Oh, shit.
Off we went to the ER. I have a fleeting visual memory of being in the car, but no recollection of telling the nurse on the Blue Cross helpline she had the authority to speak to my wife on my behalf.
En route to the hospital, I remembered I was employed but couldn’t remember who I worked for. I can remember saying I don’t know who we should call.
At the ER, I remember being distressed I couldn’t remember recent events, like Christmas. What happened at Christmas? Did we HAVE Christmas? It was only a few weeks ago.
Like ribbons, the memories started to dangle in front of me, and as I pulled on them, I started to remember. It wasn’t a flood of recollections, just sort of a restoration, like opening a drawer and finding it full rather than empty.
Within a few hours, it was all back – the doctor said it wasn’t unusual. He gave me the brilliant diagnosis of “head injury” and gave me IV Tylenol. I had a CAT scan and an EKG, and I’m wondering how much all this is going to cost poor ole Blue Cross – but at least we have the coverage for it.
I wouldn’t wish this on anyone – especially not the part about finding the person you love confused and impaired on the floor. Thank god it all worked out.
And I’ll be using a step ladder to re-hang the washed curtains.
ExaminingMisadventures 