hour of the wolf,

which was a movie by Ingmar Bergman about nocturnal sweats, a film I found profound and scary forty years ago, but about which I remember nothing now.  Now is 4.a.m., Thursday, February 16, and this is the third time in 24 hours I've tried to write this blog--to let everyone know how I was doing and to thank everyone who has sent their best wishes to me.

But for much of the time, my mind has been mush and I've been in the hospital and for all of that time I've been unable to stay awake to finish a thought--orally or in writing.  Last week, all of the "little things" (as opposed to the Big C) came together.  I couldn't eat, or even swallow. My left ear had lost much of its hearing.  I  had strong pain in my jaw and leg.  But most of all I couldn't stay awake.  Mid-sentence, mid-mouthful, mid-laughter, I wasn't following, couldn't comprehend, and then wss sound asleep,  Mohamed used to ask constantly about appointment--when, with whom, about what.  I couldn't understand how he couldn't remember.  Now he is charge of all of that.  I ask several times a day whom we see the next day; I am incapable to remember.  I know how frustrated her must get when the answer is no one--and still no one when I ask again six hours later.  So early next week we headed to the ER.  (He would say Monday; I would say Tuesday.  Trust Mohamed.)

I  spent four days and underwent every kind of test, several after only a few days since the last time: MRI (I'm getting better at these), CT scans, x-rays, and even a spinal tap.  The results were the same, ruling out metastasis of the cancer to the brain but supplying no answer to what the causes were or whether there was a connection between all the little c symptoms and those of the cancer.

The weekend was quiet, relieved by a second opinion that it was not brain cancer, but with a set of what appeared to be self-evident symptoms of a stroke. When I tried to smile at Mohamed, only the right-hand side of my mouth responded  I drooled out of the left hand 2/3 of mouth.  My speech was blurry and difficult to understand, saddening for someone who was paid for taking for 45 years of his life.  oI didn't stay in rhe hospital,, but I did get a diagnosis:. Bell Palsy.

Today, though I had better check with Mohamed, we'll see my GP's nurse, just to see how things are going, and the ENT doc,, my least favorite, probably to drill another drain in my eardrum and discharge the fluid there.

I've run out of steam.  I'll do a cursory edit, and then more soon about what's next.