It was a stupid phone call

A serious topic, to be sure, but a stupid call. My friend Henry had a seizure at work and ended up in the ER on Tuesday or Wednesday. Friday night, he called me.

He was still rattled by the experience. He was also drunk, medicated and silly.

He gets seizures as a result of his traumatic brain injury. Which he still denies he has. He had a seizure this past week because he doesn't take his medication.

I asked him why. He said that, when he's at work and the alarm on his phone goes off, he refuses to stop what he's doing to swallow pills. He says it's "embarrassing."

I asked him if it isn't "embarrassing" to have coworkers break into the men's room and then see him loaded into an ambulance. He told me that I don't understand. He's right.

I changed the subject to my upcoming trip to see him. I told him I'd be happy to go to his new church for Christmas Eve service, and that I discovered I could walk to it from my hotel. I asked if he could get a ride.

"I'll drive myself. I can drive. I've been driving." He slurred this.

I told him that I would stay in Chicago rather than be responsible for a man who has seizures getting behind the wheel.

He changed the subject to Patrick, Reg's friend who will be coming to stay with them. He told me he thought Patrick was "creepy" and implied that he indulges in promiscuity because he was molested as a child. This is a rather dramatic accusation! Plus, Henry forgets that I not only was molested as a teen, I'm a rape survivor, so this is an uncomfortable subject for me.

I asked him what Patrick's rate of intercourse has to do with him. He said Patrick brings strange lovers into their home and Henry doesn't want to "wake up dead." This does not happen.

Fortunately, Henry said his medications were kicking in and he wanted to cut the call short. THANK GOD!

Nothing he said was true or legitimate. It's very hard for me not to shout at him.

But I know he's not himself. I know my Henry is in there, somewhere. I've seem more and more flashes of the old Henry as he struggles to recover.

I just need to hold on. To hang on. To realize he's doing the best he can.