The Faint

Ten days ago R and I were having lunch at our local on the river.  R was yawning, as he often does, and I urged him to walk around, myabe get us a glass of water which he did.  Lunch came, we ate, all seemed well.  Then suddenly Richard slumped forward in his chair. 

I propped him up and unlike a 'real' faint, he stayed upright.  Also unlike a real faint, his eyes were open, his head was up, his posture 'normal'.  But he wasn't there.  He didn't react to touch, to his name being called, he barely reacted to his eyes being touched.  The blink was slow and delayed.

The scariest thing was the yawning.  Often when attending the euthanizing of dogs they have agonal breathing where the jaw opens wide and then closes again.  It is unconscious and I don't think they are breathing, it is just the last gasp of a life leaving.  Richard was breathing but he was also doing this frequent  very wide open mouth yawning.  He was also incontinent which he has never been before during his two previous faints.

It took him a long time to come around, far longer than the previous faints.  This episode resembled a seizure more than a faint.  

We went to two hospitals, the local and the Tweed.  Bloods were done twice, he had a CT scan as well as urinalysis and being hooked up to monitors the entire 8 hours we were there.  Again, everything was fine.  No anomalies at all.

Two days later (we were both pretty blah the next day) he was whippersnipping.

Last night I had a dream.  We were walking down a town street.  An auction of a deceased elderly woman's possessions was just about to start.  Her things were displayed along the sidewalk (although the sidewalk more resembled a tunnel).  I saw a beautiful basket with a medallion design on one end, a deep blue brocade coat and a carved wooden sculpture of three lions heads.

I looked over at Richard and he had that look in his eye, the look like he was about to faint.  I told him to get up and walk, to pull himself together.  He did get up and half fell onto the laps of the people sitting opposite who were waiting for the auction to begin.

We managed to stumble down the street, me half supporting him while I exhorted him to hold on, to stay with me.  The last part of the dream I remember is of him propped up on the bank below a bridge.

I realize a part of me is frightened of the unknown.  I suspect the major stroke of a friend's mother recently has fueled this fear.  When we were at the restaurant I thought he'd had a stroke, that either I'd lost him completely or our lives would change forever from the consequences. 

Nevertheless the dream has stayed with me.  Today, for the first time in months, I have a headache I cannot shake.  It's only fear.  Tomorrow will be better.  In the meantime, all todays are precious precisely because we do not know what tomorrow brings.