Diagnosis Day
May 29, 2006
"Are you all right?" I shouted as I vaulted toward him. Ted has always been a master of turning a mountain into a molehill. If ever there is a disaster or the need for someone to be calm in the face of danger, Ted is the man to call upon. I, on the other hand, especially at that time in my life, was panicked easily, and Ted had no problem reminding me of that. I was the insane one, not him.
"I'm fine." He said. "I was just trying to find a position that might help me with my headache." To anyone else, this would probably send giant red warning flares through the roof of your home, but Ted is a physical therapist, and the authoritative manner in which he speaks, especially when speaking about his own body mechanics, always makes me feel like he knows best.
"I think you need to see a doctor," I said, resting my hand on his back.
"I'm fine. Let's take the dogs on a walk to see if I can shake this thing."
This 'thing' as he called it had been plaguing him nonstop for two weeks. It was a stabbing headache on the right side of his forehead. He blamed it on a bad dental appointment and was convinced the dentist was an active member of a sadist club.
"Our insurance runs out today," I reminded him. "I think you should see someone."
"Don't worry about it." He stood up and moved toward the shower, "I'll be fine."
Ted had been fired two weeks before. He'd spoken his mind to a boss. This was becoming a recurring theme in our lives, and I was at a loss as to what to do. It was the third time in two years he'd been fired. Increasingly, he was becoming more belligerent and intolerant of other people. Going out in public with him was becoming difficult. He would voice what was on his mind, unconcerned with other people's feelings or the consequences of his actions. I asked him if he was depressed, but he insisted he wasn't.
"What have you done with my husband?" I once asked him.
A bewildered look crossed his face. "I don't understand," he said. The sad thing was, he didn't understand.
As he entered the shower, our phone rang. It was my mother. I told her what had happened. She reset my sanity alarm and insisted that Ted go to a hospital, or at least make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. She was right, but I didn't know how to force a six foot three, 175 lb man with an increasingly unpredictable attitude into a car and take him to a hospital.
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Morgan and Silvi |
I hung up the phone, took a shower and dressed for our walk. Ted bundled himself in multiple layers. It was spring in the Pacific Northwest and the weather can be unpredictable, but he was dressed for an Alaskan winter. We put our dogs, Silvi and Morgan, into the car and headed for our favorite urban hike, the Renaissance Trail along the Columbia River in Vancouver, Washington.
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Silvi, Morgan and Katy at the Rennaisance Trail |
Wow...that was kind of what I went through with my husband a year before we found out he has brain cancer" Personality changes "
ReplyDeleteFortunately, after Ted's surgery, his mood swings disappeared. The doctors warned me that he might have even worse mood swings, but that never happened. He is his old cheerful self again.
ReplyDeleteThis is the first time I have heard a story so close to what I went through. My husband is now 62 and was diagnosed with glioblastoma 3 years ago. The change in his personality was so small and I thought it was because he was tired from teaching high school all day and running for local government at night. I also had to cut the grass, etc.Your whole world changes. Lucky for us we have family that is supportive. But they can not give you your life back. Thank you for sharing. It really helped.
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