If it wasn’t so serious it would be funny. Well, in retrospect, while it wasn’t funny, I can sense that it is going to be funny. Last Friday my spouse, R, had a partial complex seizure, or as the Doctor put it, a “brainstorm.” Essentially, his brain didn’t function properly and he lost motor control and had some weird thinking as he puts it, couldn’t walk in a straight line, lost depth perception, and was extremely tired. Unfortunately, he was out shopping alone and he took two naps (maybe blackouts) before he could drive home. He also had a minor fender-bender, thankfully in the parking lot, so no one was hurt. However, as a consequence, he cannot drive for at least six months to be sure he doesn’t have a recurrence.
So, our life changes as we get older and my daughter, K, and I will now become chauffeurs for a while. Also, R will be processing this change in circumstances so I pray that he will adjust graciously and his brain will not misbehave like that again. We expect him to be irritable and cranky for a while. Correct that…he IS cranky and irritable.
In fact, he was cranky and irritable from the get-go. On Friday when he came home in a foggy state I knew something was wrong. I had already started to worry because he was gone four hours on a two hour errand. He related his episode as we are calling it now (for those in denial, as is R, this sounds better) and I immediately got him into the van and took off for the emergency room. Yeah, sure.
For starters all the traffic lights were out in the town – really! So instead of a 15 minute trip it took 45 minutes. By the time we pulled into the hospital parking lot all of his symptoms had cleared up. He walked around the parking lot and refused to go in. “I don’t want to spend my evening in the ER for no good reason.” NO GOOD REASON??? The conversation was not what you would call polite, and I can’t repeat it in print.
After seeing the doctor, and not one hour back home, R is threatening to drive anyway, insisting that everything is fine, no problem, what’s the fuss, it won’t happen again – men! Then today he says he will drive in four months, not six. I remind him (not as gently as I should) that if he has a seizure and blacks out at 60 mph it might not only be his highness that he kills, but a van full with a beautiful family of handsome hubby, pretty wife, and gorgeous children. He was not amused, but then neither was I.
He is moping around the house telling everyone that he has completely lost his independence now that I am driving him everywhere. Losing his independence – him? If anyone is losing their independence it is me – I now have to keep up with his schedule and mine! Get real here. And, if his nagging about it keeps up I might be inclined to use a generous amount of duct tape to seal his whining lips. I must admit though that I did take his car keys away and hid them which, I guess if you are a guy, translates into losing your independence. I call it the “Vroom, vroom” syndrome.
So, all of you who read this please pray that the spirit of graciousness invades R’s brain and he settles into being chauffeured around quietly and without complaint or threat to grab my keys and drive away. I told him to pretend he is very wealthy and has a driver. Because, he does (at least the driver part)! And, while I am more than happy to do this, I’ll be praying for an extra modicum of patience!