Henry was rushed to the hospital this afternoon. He was working at the library and suddenly became disoriented and incoherent. His coworkers first called 911, then Reg.
Henry spent five hours enduring tests. He and Reg left the hospital with no answers, but a lot of drugs. My friend went to sleep tonight in his own bed, but terrified. He has trouble focusing (mentally, not visually) and doesn't understand what is happening to him.
The only bright spot in all this is that Henry recognized that Reg was there for him. He took comfort in the support of his husband. I hope this indicated a turning point in the healing of their relationship.
It is not uncommon for victims of TBI to develop epilepsy. That is something that has to be considered. Alcohol exacerbates this. When I was in Key West for Christmas, I refused to drink with Henry. He either didn't notice by abstinence or didn't care: he drank each day and one afternoon I saw him down three glasses of wine in three hours.
I did not argue with Henry about his drinking. I could see no point. I was only down there for five days. Who would police him the other 360 days? He has to decide to stop drinking on his own. Since he will not admit he has a brain injury, it's not likely that he will own up to his alcohol problem.
I love my friend. He is a special person -- kind, smart and fundamentally good. I wish I knew what 2019 holds for him. I wish I could protect him from what I fear will be a perilous journey as he recovers.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Oh no! I hope it's not something serious (or epilepsy).
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