Patient was in tent, in flat...

So last weekend, Rich and I got all excited about the upcoming trip (even more so than usual), and decided to put up the tent that we are going to take away with us. To check for all the pegs, and leopard proofing, that kind of thing. Then, because we know how to rock a Saturday night, we fell asleep, in the tent, in the flat. Which is where we were an hour later, when Rich suddenly started having a seizure.

I haven't been very close to anyone having a seizure before, and certainly not in a 1.5 person tent with someone at the time. It was pretty much the most frightening few minutes I've ever experienced. I called 112, and waited for the paramedics. By the time they'd arrived Rich had stopped seizing, and started breathing. He was still in the tent, much to their incredulity.


They were great, explained to me what was happening, whilst checking over a very very confused and bleary Rich, still in the tent. He finally emerged with the threat of a paramedic getting in with him, after cradling one of their hands and smiling at me. Luckily, he remembers none of this. So to St Görans we went in a snazzy Swedish ambulance through the night.

We waited in A&E for a while, whilst Rich slowly came to and requested periodic recaps of what had happened.

Here we met an excellent Swedish A&E nurse, who told us all about his Scottish grandmother, and how they would tease her about her short arms and deep pockets. I wish I could remember his name. 

By this point it was Sunday, and Sweden is pretty closed on a Sunday, so Rich was installed on a general medical ward, and we got to wait it out until Monday. The nurses were ace, and kept teasing him about the tent. The top of his hospital notes read 'Patient was in tent, in flat'. They were considering sending him to a psych ward, apparently.

On Monday he went for an MRI. He was assured that once the MRI came back clear he could come home. So we waited, and waited, and waited, until Monday evening, when he was told that the MRI wasn't quite normal, but the neurologist was too busy, and would come tomorrow.

 
On Tuesday he went for an EEG. This is turning into a Craig David song... Came out with red marks all over his noggin. Then we waited some more. On Tuesday evening we were told that the neurologist was still too busy, but since Rich was clearly perfectly fine, sitting up and playing rummy, he could go home, and come in tomorrow to see him instead.



On Wednesday we met the neurologist! Success. He was great, and took plenty of time to explain everything. We'd been worried that his level of busyness would mean he only had a few minutes to spend on Rich's wonky brain, but not so.

 
So when they checked the MRI they discovered that Rich actually does have a brain. The EEG had confirmed that it was also working. We got to see the MRI, so I can confirm that it is indeed there, inside his skull.



However, it wasn't your textbook typical brain. Instead he has a chunk at the front of the right hand side that isn't functioning at all. This bit is his frontal lobe, and would usually be useful for stuff, but they think he had a bleed in the brain when he was very young (just before or just after he was born), and the brain, as it is wont to do, adapted to this by just wiring those functions up elsewhere. Since there have never been any problems, he's never discovered that anything was different.

Now they know about his wonkiness they want to make sure he doesn't have any more seizures. This is unlikely anyway, because if it was a one-off event not connected to his wonky brain, then it was a one-off event. Ergo, no more. If it was connected to his wonky brain, well, it hasn't been bothering him the last 36 years, maybe nothing else is about to happen. But just in case he's got some anti-seizure meds to keep him on a even keel.


He's also got some new rules:

No driving.

Not much drinking.
(The neurologist actually based his assessment of this on nationality. As in "You're Scottish, so you can probably have two beers, but I'd only have one.")






No piloting aircraft, or jet-packs. (He didn't seriously veto jet-packs, but I couldn't find a picture of a pilot).

 


No scuba-diving. (This one was real).

Running marathons on the equator? Well, this one is up to him. So for now he's just going to keep on training as though he is going to do it, and see how it goes.

We never thought our adventures would be so close to home.