I didn’t get better

Three months gone . . .  four months gone . . . I got a bit better, a bit worse . . .  and then my brother and sister-in-law came to visit.  It was so nice to see them, but they were shocked at my state, so I realized that I was NOT better.  By the end of their visit, I was so slowed down that I could hardly walk.  David and my brother rang the doctor, and then David and I were put in a taxi and sent to the hospital.

By the time we got there, and waited to be seen, I couldn’t talk properly or think straight.  the doctor asked me my name, and I couldn’t find it in my mind.  Frightening!

I was admitted ‘for observation’.  Put into a ward of four people.  Taken for scans and given tests and even given a lumbar puncture (which left me with intermittent horrible pain for weeks and occasional milder pain for years).  All tests negative.  But I got worse and worse, often just grinding to a complete halt and becoming unresponsive (although I was aware of it all).

After 10 days, I was told that there was nothing really wrong, that I was having ‘a strange response to stress’, that I would soon get better . . .

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