On Thursday evening, FL was telling me about his day when he suddenly stopped speaking and seemed to drift off. I didn't break the spell, because it seemed important to let him find his own way back to me, to reality. A few moments later, he blinked and stared at me: "What was I saying? I can't find the words. I was telling you something about the pain and I couldn't describe where it was..." I made a few suggestions, and he agreed that "ankles" was the lost word.
A little later, he was apparently reading the newspaper when he said "I can't decipher this at all. I am trying to read and I can see the print, but it doesn't have any meaning any more. It's just marks on paper. And I have an awful pain behind my eye." And we decided that maybe he ought to go to bed.
He seemed fine on Friday morning and I went to work as usual. When I came home, he was sitting in his chair, all wrapped up in hat, coat, dressing gown and blanket. I asked him about his day.
He had gone to the golf club to watch his pals tee off, and went to have a coffee in the clubhouse. An old acquaintance greeted him and they began to chat. He then became aware that his friend was staring at him and asking if he was OK. As far as he knows, he just stopped talking mid-sentence and did not respond to prompts. He became very confused and left his pal at the table and went out to his car. Thankfully, he decided he was not safe to drive, so put the radio on and sat there for a while until he felt "together". He then drove home and went straight to bed.
He had no sooner finished telling me this, than he said he needed to go to bed again, and that the way he was feeling he wasn't sure if we ought to go away on holiday. We agreed to wait til the morning to decide.
So I got a piece of paper. On one side I wrote a packing list. And then I turned it over and wrote a list of things I could do if we stayed at home. Either way, I was prepared. Then I watched "Sliding Doors" on TV and went to bed.
On Saturday morning, after a difficult night, FL and I had a summit conference. We agreed that there were too many risks attached to driving to the West Coast to stay in a caravan for a week. There would be no TV, he was not fit enough to golf, his eyes were not up to reading all the time, and he was not capable of walking far. We could not be sure the caravan benches would allow him to sit comfortably for long periods. The toilet arrangements were unclear, but we understood we were supposed to go to the site facilities to make solid deposits. It was an awfully long way to go to lie in bed. And he was not sure if he was... entirely well.
So we are staying at home. I frog-marched him to the optician to choose the cheapest pair of glasses they sold and they were made up within an hour. Then I did some baking and dived into the stash. He is reading. I am knitting and sewing. There will be some gentle dog-walking. I will make a start on the garden. We might even plant some trees together. But most importantly, I will be at home to look after him for a week, because I am worried. He thinks he is "losing his marbles". I don't know what is going on, but I definitely think it's in his head... and I don't mean he's imagining things.