The Night I Lost My Mind

I lost about two hours of time last weekend--gone for ever!

Fortunately the husband was around to document that it was probably the most inconsequential two hours in history. I had literally lost my mind--at least the function for making new memories, as well as being a little foggy on some other more recent details. I did not remember anything I had done that day. When I was asked what car we drove I answered that we had a Lexus, but I didn't know what year. We have not owned a Lexus for over seven years. The husband actually thought (I'm told) that I might be kidding and suggested (as I was about to be checked by the emergency room doctor) that I take the doctor's questions seriously. I was conversant and cooperative, but clearly--confused.

After the husband was first made aware of my problem, he assessed my condition by questioning me and soon realized that I was indeed suffering a brain deficit of some sort. He told me to get into the back seat of the car (an Avalon) to go to the hospital. We then picked up our married children who also stayed with me for a few hours in the emergency room. When I finally began to "come to" I kept looking at the clock and saying repeatedly, even to the doctor, "I seem to have lost some time." I can't explain how weird it felt, as I tried to piece together what had happened.

There is one notable point in time, a kind of aha moment, which we now refer to as "the chicken-in-a-biskit moment." The kids had been asking me what brand of crackers Marissa had purchased earlier that afternoon at Target. My son-in-law really likes them and was munching on them shortly before he took me back home, around 6:30. At about 9:15, when they asked me once again about the crackers, I responded quickly with the right name. I was back!

As I began to reconstruct what had happened to me, there were at least three things in addition to the clock on the emergency room wall that made me upset that evening. First, seeing my clothes on the emergency room chair. I didn't remember choosing those shoes and--horror of horrors--who had undressed me? They all assured me that they were not in the room, so I will never know about that.

 Also, at that time I was very distressed that I might have suffered a stroke. I have faithfully taken daily aspirin for over ten years. I was so annoyed to learn (and remember) that this had occurred and was on the verge of repeatedly saying the s word. I am told it came out shi. I remember feeling an unusual level of stress--I'm certain my blood pressure was elevated.

I am told that the doctor asked me to pull him towards me and I practically pulled him on top of me. He was impressed with my strength!  I do remember that a nurse gave me a couple of baby aspirin, just in case, I guess. And I remember the CAT or CT scan.

Finally, when the doctor told me that I had to stay at the hospital overnight for more tests and observation, I was on the verge of tears. But once the family left and I was admitted to the neurology floor, I was just fine.

As soon as my brain regained function I was also very concerned (I guess that would be the fourth thing) about the last thing I did at home--respond to an email to make plans for a girl's night out the next day. Did I send it? Will you call my friends and tell them I am in the hospital and probably won't make it to Happy Hour? I had no phone with contacts, no computer--heck, no toothbrush! Did I tweet other stuff that made no sense? (I don't tweet much, but who knows?)  Apparently I had been too stupid and brain dead to do anything more than let the email response trail off and eventually save to draft!

I am home now with a diagnosis: transient global amnesia or TGA. After four major and very expensive tests and a basic urine and blood test, all negative, I have no idea why this episode of amnesia occurred. The tests ruled out stroke and epilepsy which are more commonly associated with memory loss. I am at no more risk for those things, I understand.

All that the tests confirmed is that I still have high LDL cholesterol and I was urged by an internal medicine doc to please reconsider taking medication. It was mentioned that my blood iron levels (hematocrit) are just high now enough to donate again.

When I got my mind back, I recalled that I had planned to spend part of the night watching the Oscars, so I really didn't miss anything all that important.

I watched the tail end of the awards show (including the surprising Michelle Obama presentation) from my private room in the new section of the hospital, the same hospital where two of my children were born over 30 years ago, the one I have not seen the inside of, since.

 I noticed that a few things have changed in health care and most of them seemed good. This was a much better experience than my last ones--one night in 07 waiting for my heart to convert to a normal rhythm after an episode of atrial fibrillation (at 3 AM my conversion took place) and about 10 days of hospitalization for pneumonia back in the mid-90's--each in a different hospital.

(I am hardly ever ill, but now and then something really strange happens to me!)

Of course you don't sleep in a hospital. They scoped out my carotids in the dead of the night. Just as I was finally relaxing  in the wee hours, they came to take my blood.  Fortunately, I was only "hospitalized" for about 18 hours!

The beds were better (cushier) than I remember, the nurse answers with a mobile phone, everything is computerized, including the rolling menu man. My heart monitors were in my gown pocket, for mobility. Another nice touch is that they throw a warm sheet over you every time you turn around--mostly when you hop on the cart for a ride to a test.

 All tests confirmed the neurologist's first hint of a diagnosis when he said: "I've heard this story before." And then I asked him, "Was it a TIA?" He offered a simple "No" as he walked out of the room. He was waiting for his final answer.

When the neurologist returned he mentioned to the husband that he was a classmate of my brother-in-law who just turned 67. He looked about 10 years older than that and had probably seen this condition more than a few times in his lifetime, although it occurs somewhat infrequently.

When I first saw him very briefly, I had told him that I had suddenly lost my memory, realized it and told my husband that I thought I had had a stroke (I was told this later) I told him that I had remained functional, and regained my memory rather quickly after a couple of hours. I asked him if he could come back, as my husband was on the way to the hospital and could tell him more about my behavior, since I remembered nothing of what had happened. He did return and also did a brief physical examination, testing all my reflexes etc. And he explained TGA to us.

Transient Global Amnesia or TGA. Why? I don't know. No stress, no bang on the head, no history of migraines, no mind-blowing sex (whatever that is--I read that somewhere). I was just sitting at my laptop writing an email before making some grilled rye and cheese sandwiches. I never started making dinner and the email trailed off mid-sentence. Friend J said when she saw the unfinished sentence: "Oh Rose, that is soooo weird."

The neurologist's explanation was simple: the tape recorder turns off. The events of those two hours were never recorded and can never be retrieved. I know, big loss.

As soon as I returned to (relative) normalcy, I recalled that my mother might have had a similar episode back in the 50's.

It was in the summer of 1957, when I was elementary school age, that my mother lost her memory. My mother did not go to the hospital and began to recover in a half-day or so. Of course, they had no fancy machines or stroke prevention medications then, anyway. We never subsequently called it a stroke--and it most likely was not. It was more like, "Do you remember that day when Mom lost her memory?"

It all came to light early one morning when my mother got up and made hamburgers for breakfast. When questioned, she had no idea why she had made hamburgers early in the morning. Subsequently she sat in the barn with my Dad, as the cows had to be milked. The details are all a little sketchy. I talked to both of my brothers once again and they always remember new tidbits as they reflect on that day! I asked my brother who was a teenager then why he wasn't out there helping and he thought he was probably still sleeping on an early summer morning. Both brothers recall that it was the day that a brand-new combine and baler were to be delivered--and that was a big deal to a farm boy. My oldest brother recalled and told me this week that my mother had worried whether she had persuaded her husband to buy all this new equipment. She said "I sure hope I didn't tell him to buy them." He also remembered that my Aunt Nellie had been there to help. I recall one image--my mother sitting on my Dad's lap, my Dad clearly upset to the point of tears. That was a vivid image for me, but I don't remember the new farm equipment! I think he might have considered that she would never be the same again. It seems that my mother's TGA lasted a little longer than mine, but was completely gone within 24 hours. Typically a TGA lasts 4-24 hours. There were no stroke drugs or MRI machines back then and we never knew what she had. I have always presumed, not knowing much about it, that she had a mini-stroke, a TIA, or transient ischemic attack. Now I think my mother probably had a TGA.

My message board in my hospital room welcomed me with my name, my doctor's name, my room number, my diet (assigned Heart Healthy) with a cute heart shape for the word heart. Also included on the board were my hospitalization goals which I verbalized as part of my admission to the neurology floor late Sunday night: "Find out what's going on and go home." I would have put the go home in bold--I am not fond of hospitals--but this turned out to be more pleasant than previous hospitalizations, as I was feeling just fine and was just waiting for tests. I had calls and visitors and the staff was kind.

I had a needle access stuck in my arm which hurt and had two heparin shots in my stomach, electrodes attached to my chest and later over 25 stuck to my head. They put massaging wraps on my legs for awhile. I had blood drawn. But the worst of it was the long hours in the night when I couldn't sleep. But then I enjoyed a nice television with sound in the remote--and Fox News!

I briefly enjoyed this FALL RISK bracelet!

I had missed dinner (forgot I was going to make it) and asked for two small cracker & cheese packets and a Sprite around midnight. I finally fell asleep in the early morning, but when my breakfast tray arrived I was hungry, woke up immediately and started drinking coffee. I wolfed down the yukky oatmeal, adding leftover maple syrup with each bite. The lo-cholesterol french toast was also awful, so I doused it with the maple syrup, not bothering to add the equally yukky heart-healthy margarine. It had been 19 hours and I would have eaten almost anything.

Later that day I had a parade of people as well as three visitors, a PA, an internist, the neurologist and two major tests--an EEG and an MRI.

All in all, the day passed quickly (even though no time was lost). Until you have a TGA, you will never understand how I felt. Poor Rip Van Winkle lost 20 years. I lost only 2 hours!

Once the final test result came in, I was told I could go home, but my dinner had just arrived. Marissa ate my soup and grabbed the banana. I inhaled my hamburger, dressed, and was wheeled out the door to Marissa's car in minutes.

I have many questions that will probably never be answered. I even wonder if it sometimes occurs in the middle of the night and no one ever knows?

Now my children, too, will probably always reference "the day Mom lost her memory," if they don't remember TGA. It's nice to have a diagnosis, but I don't really know much more than I did when my Mom had the same thing, back in 1957. At least I know what it wasn't, thankfully, and so will my children, if it ever happens to them.