The nice thing about a memory foam mattress is that you aren’t disturbed by your bed-mate’s movements. Nice when your retired hubby stays up until midnight and then dances out of bed at 6 AM. However, it is not so nice when one of you is having some sort of fit and the other doesn’t notice.
Monday night, before I went to bed, I told The Squire to let me sleep until 9, as I was meeting a friend at 11 for brunch. I awoke around 4 AM -Tuesday morning to go to the bathroom and when I got into bed I starting shivering. At first I thought I was just cold, but I couldn’t rouse myself to get a blanket. The shivering intensified. I normally sleep flat on my back, with one leg folded up, flamingo-like, and my hands clasped on my chest. When I die, all they will need to do is straighten out my leg and lift me into my coffin. With my hands clasped, my left hand began twisting madly; when I woke up I found I’d sprained my right thumb! Nobody sprains their thumb!
The Squire awakened me as instructed, and casually remarked that I looked like Hell. He helped me down the stairs, I got in touch with my “date”, and went back to bed, where I spent a fair part of the day. Tuesday night I went to bed about 9, and at midnight the fun started again. I began tapping on his shoulder and calling his name, but he sleeps with his deaf ear up. OK. I rolled over and finally managed to turn on the light – without breaking it – and he “floated to the surface”. Off to the hospital. We arrived at 1 AM and The Squire didn’t get away until they sent me up to a room at 7:30. He called eldest daughter and our parish priest and then let me know HE was off to bed. I know the poor man must have been totally exhausted.
All day Wednesday I was sonogrammed, MRI’d, CT’d, and x-rayed to a fair-thee-well. Fr. M arrived in the morning to give me Communion and anointed my head. “This isn’t last rites, is it?” The Squire and two old and dear friends came by in mid-afternoon, and I tried to carry on a conversation with then, but drifted off to sleep in the middle. Some hostess I am! Eldest daughter swung by in the evening and we talked a good while. They wouldn’t allow me to have any coffee, and she offered to run over to Target and sneak some in. Good kid, that one.
So, after all this nonsense, we’re still not sure exactly what happened. The neurologist thinks I had two TIAs back to back, which would make sense because my entire left side was weak and “uncontrolled”. The staff physician zoned in on one medication I take and treated me as a cardiac patient. The Red Cross has turned me down more times than a bedspread because my B/P is so low – it generally runs between 104/72 to 122/72, but they won’t take me if I go below 100, which I often do. However, I take a pill which can be used both to treat HTN and urinary retention. (UTIs in the elderly can be very serious.) Even with an explanation and a perfectly normal sonogram of my heart, she still recommended I find a myself a cardiologist.
I just hope John Kerry’s wife had better luck with her seizures than I did with mine.
thisendoftheswamp 
Actually, I think you fared better than Teresa Heinz Kerry as she is recovering in a rehab center. Perhaps though, she has better insurance than you. Glad you are doing so much better. (You might think of purchasing an air horn to wake up the Squire if you should need help again.)
Wow, sending up more prayers for you!