Remembrance of Things Past: Volume 1

Remembrance of things past. Or not.

I write a lot and I read a lot. In my writing, I have learnt that blogging is easy and blogging is hard. Blogging is easy because it is simply putting fingertips to the keyboard and typing, and I would like to think that I am above average in the quality of my results. Blogging is hard because the ideal of blogging, I think, is that the posts be personal, yet informative. If the posts are too personal then it reads to be merely a personal diary or a slide of family photographs. If the posts are too informative then it reads like an over-technical review of the latest technological gadget. I fear that this post may be the former yet I feel that it must still be written as it explains my absence from this blog and, I hope that it does provide some useful information.

I write a lot and I read a lot. In my reading, I often come across blogs that have become defunct, blogs that have had nothing written in them for six months or more. I understand that we are all human beings (yes, even we bloggers) and that people change in many different directions. For example, a chemist may decide to become a journalist, and a blogger may decide to pursue something that pays. Yet, it still saddens me to see these abandoned blogs; it seems as if something has died. It may have seemed to you, my readers, that this blog died. 

I write a lot and I read a lot. In my reading, I often come across stories of people who are critically ill, are involved in tragic accidents or in other situations, and then wake up in the hospital or other place not knowing what happened in the interim. I always held these stories in suspicion because I always felt that if a person is conscious then s/he ought to be able to remember. 

Then it happened to me.

This story begins, as do most stories, at the beginning. When is that? I could be wrong but the available evidence does point to Caroline's and my eating lunch at Savitri Fast Food Centre in mid-late July. In my review, I neglected to mention that I did enjoy eating there. The food was inexpensive; the food was good; the service was quick; and the manager was friendly and helpful. This time though, it was none of that.

I ordered the egg chow mein. This is my favourite because it is one of the least expensive meals (an even cheaper meal is the vegetable chow mein), and it tastes very good, and is not spicy, unlike some of the meat selections which can be slightly spicy at times. Instead, another manager (who, apparently, was partially deaf) provided me with something that did not resemble the egg chow mein. Nevertheless, I ate it because I am not a finicky eater. I soon learnt that it was a special or mixed chow mein. Instead of being one of the cheapest meals, it was amongst one of the most expensive meals. Moreover, it tasted slightly peculiar, although I attributed this to it not being my familiar egg chow mein. However, I did not put much thought into that.

That night, however, I vomited and in the very early morning hours, I had uncontrollable diarrhoea. This continued unabated for several days. I consider colds to be a nuisance but this was a nuisance and harmful. I needed to wash my pants at least once a day and I had to avoid being around other people (especially difficult in a congested city like Kolkata).
As an aside, I need to mention at this point that WebMD and Wikipedia indicate that the symptoms of hepatitis A (the disease with which I was eventually diagnosed as having) usually appear two-six weeks after infection. I surmise that either the chow mein had an inordinate amount of faecal material (and that the symptoms came much earlier) or the true (and unknown) cause occurred earlier. In addition, even if the chow mein did not cause the hepatitis then it most likely exacerbated my health (as evidenced by the aforementioned vomiting that night).
I dislike going to the doctor and go there only as a last resort. I felt that this time was such a time. I went to Dr. Faud Halim and he prescribed some medicine. I took it for the recommended amount (about three-four days) but it had absolutely no effect on me. I went back to him, asking for something stronger. He did prescribe that for me as well as having three blood tests taken at a nearby diagnostic centre. Unfortunately, the new medicine also did not have the desired result. I then returned again to the doctor with the blood test results. He then prescribed new medicine which stopped the diarrhoea virtually instantly. However, I could not rest easily for long.
Very soon, other problematic symptoms arose. I soon had pain in my legs (centering primarily on my upper legs) and my feet became swollen. These two symptoms were usually exacerbated as the day wore on. I have always prided myself on being a brisk walker. However, whenever we walked together, Caroline (who is also a brisk walker even though she has arthritis in her knee) would have to slow down or to look back to see how far behind I was.
Fatigue is also a symptom of hepatitis A (although I need to repeat that I did not know that I had this until much later). In my case, however, this went to the extreme. As the days wore on, I would more and more lay down and sleep at any time and place, even in public. I often thought that I ought to go back to visit the doctor but never did so.

Until 18 August.
On that morning, I took a shower at the local Pay and Use toilet. (In India, very many residences do not have a bathroom or even running water. Caroline and I were in such a situation.) This was usually the place where I washed my pants (mentioned above). This morning, however, I came out shivering and shaking uncontrollably; apparently I had a high fever. Unaware of the seriousness of my situation, Caroline simply went to have breakfast at the nearby place where we usually had breakfast. after she and one-two other people helped me to sit in a chair that was shifted to the footpath  / sidewalk opposite the toilet. When she returned, I was foaming at the mouth. Many people in the neighbourhood said that I should be taken to the hospital immediately.
She was able to hail a taxi (in Kolkata--and perhaps throughout India--taxis and rickshaws are often used as ambulances; they are more numerous and the cost is usually less). With Caroline, a woman, and a man whom Caroline had befriended and who often visited us, I was helped into the taxi, and the man also came with us to PG / SSKM Hospital.
There was some difficulty in getting me admitted so we went outside. We walked on a footpath on the hospital grounds where I soon passed out. I remained that way for five hours, until the man was able to convince the attendants to get me admitted. This would never have happened in a regulated environment. Oh wait, PG / SSKM hospital is a government hospital. Americans: Aren't you glad that you voted for BushamatonCare? Knowing how government "works" as well as I do, I surmise that it took another one or two more hours before I was placed in a hospital bed In addition, there is an unknown number of hours before I returned to consciousness after being placed on the bed.
However, I remember absolutely none of this and did not know these events until several weeks later when I asked Caroline how I came to the hospital.

My first conscious memory was of waking up in the hospital and seeing a few doctors and nurses around my bed. One doctor asked me--in a stereotypical test of my mental acuity--if I knew where I was. I replied that it appeared that I was in the hospital. Somehow, though, the fact that I was in a hospital did not surprise me. It is theorized that comatose patients are able to hear and that you should speak to such patients to keep them updated on their conditions or to provide small talk. Perhaps this applies to patients who have passed out or perhaps I subconsciously knew the logical consequences of the deterioration of my condition
Another early memory was of seeing my legs as being bright yellow (and this did surprise me). I thought that I was hallucinating or that the hospital put strange pants on me that were clear and tinted yellow. Because of this, I did not tell this to anyone at the time. I now know that it was a symptom of jaundice, but do not know why I or others (more on this later) did not see it earlier.
I obviously was not hallucinating visually but I did hallucinate auditorially. Early in my stay, I thought that I heard people (apparently in charge of the hospital's activities) organize and announce various benefits to the patients. The first such announcement was of providing various categories of gifts from which the patients could select one. I decided that I would choose a DVD even though my DVD player long ago succumbed to the climate of Kolkata and/or to the different voltage outputs. The second announcement (on the following day) was of a trip for the patients. Even during the announcement, this struck me as being odd as this was a hospital and many or most of the patients should not be moved. However, I concluded that the trip was for the stronger patients of which I considered myself to be one, so I was looking forward to the trip. However, I soon began to question whether or not this was real.
One morning, I asked one of the doctors who regularly attended to me about these "announcements". She replied that, to the best of her knowledge, there were no such events. I ought to have concluded that much earlier as if there really were announcements then they would have been in either Bengali or Hindi (and thus unintelligible to me). However, my mental acuity was very weak at the time (see next paragraph). I can only surmise that it was the most realistic dream that I ever had or that I was daydreaming (or that I was truly hallucinating or making mondegreens for the sounds that I was hearing).
My memories of the previous events were truly gone and I soon realized that my memory was still extremely weak Perhaps most frighteningly, I realized that I could not remember my user names, email addresses and passwords for the websites that I go to. Very slowly, some of these lost memories did return to me and I felt confident that once I was in front of an actual computer then I would be able to recall everything and to act accordingly. As it turned out, when I was finally discharged and was able to go to a Cyber Cafe, I did make a small error in the typing of my Yahoo password. This led me to change it. However, I knew that I was on the right track and I was able to log on to my second Gmail address with no problem.
However, I could not even remember my main Gmail address to which this blog, my Google+ profile, my Google Docs, my Google Calendar, Youtube and other accounts are linked.because it was given to me by Google when I signed up for Google+. (I had used my Hotmail address to sign up for it; However, I have now abandoned Hotmail and am using my Gmail address.) I thought that I had typed in that address somewhere in this blog, but could not find it. I then went to Google+ (my profile is publically accessible, and easily found through a search on Google, even without logging in to Google) and was able to find it. The rest was easy.
In addition, I could not remember certain words, phrases, events or other things, making normal conversation very laborious.  Such instances occurred when I was speaking to a representative from the U.S. Consulate.
Early on in my stay, Caroline had gone to the Consulate to seek help. One of them came to the hospital shortly thereafter, and another one came about ten days later, presumably as a follow-up. Both of them admitted that the U.S. Consulate does not help American citizens, which is what I had already known and which is what I tell every Indian who recommends that I go to the Consulate for help. However, the first representative did mention that the Consulate is willing and able to contact any family or friends that I might name. Thus, my brothers were contacted and informed of my situation. Unfortunately, this information travelled to my 83-years old (100+ in Indian years, as Indians start dropping like flies by the time that they reach their mid-70s) mother, causing her great distress, which is what I had wanted to avoid.

Later on, my lost memories began to trouble me more. I then decided to try a different tactic in trying to piece together the events of August 18. I decided that if I could not remember the day of my hospitalization then I would ask Caroline what happened the night before. My rationalization was that my memories of those events might help me to piece together the events, put them in some logical sequence, and perhaps help me to regain those lost memories of the morning of 18 August. (She has an above-average memory.)
What she told me shocked me even more.
On the previous night, I went to our doctor (mentioned above) and vomited in the waiting room. The doctor was not there at the time but the compounder told Caroline that I needed to go to the hospital immediately. Caroline then took me in a taxi (or perhaps it was an auto-rickshaw--there does not seem to be clarity on this issue) to PG / SSKM Hospital--the same hospital that I stayed for my episode with jaundice / hepatitis! I now wonder why my jaundice was not diagnosed or seen (again, my upper legs were bright yellow) by the Emergency Ward, especially since I was to be readmitted in about 12 hours. They treated me (perhaps just for the vomiting) and discharged me. Because it was very late at night, and we had no available transportation, we stayed in the hospital grounds. (They have some nice raised platforms, away from the ground and dirt.) In the early morning, we took some transportation to the public bathroom.
Again, though, I remember none of this.

This shows that my amnesia lasted for at least 24 hours previous to waking up in the hospital, and I have anecdotal evidence that it could have lasted for up to 4 days.
I later asked Caroline what happened the day before and she could not recall the exact events (I asked her this question about 1.5 months after that date) but she did say that in the days leading to August 18, we often went to a certain park, she would sit on a bench and I would sleep nearby. This does and does not make sense. I am aware of the park, and we did visit it about 2 times (as far as I can recall) but my impression from what she said is that we went there more frequently just before August 18. Also, I dislike the park so I am certain that I would not go there if I was fully conscious and capable of remembering events. Thus, I can only conclude that if we did go to the park somewhat frequently then it was during the time that I cannot recall.
Another piece of evidence of my possible 4-days loss of memory is that I remember--prior to 15 August (India's Independence Day)--thinking how empty the roads would be on that date. However, I cannot recall seeing the roads being empty, and I cannot recall anything happening on or after that date. This indicates that my ability to memorize my experiences and sensations was gone on Independence Day.
The last thing that I do remember was of night-time and of walking or resting in the late evening or early night before going to sleep. This makes sense because I had always felt (prior to my asking Caroline) that I had passed out while walking in the evening and that Caroline took me to the hospital when this happened. It also makes sense as--and as I mentioned earlier--the pain in my legs and the swelling in my feet increased at that time. (Each morning, my feet returned to some sense of normalcy.) Perhaps it was this increased pain and discomfort that triggered my brain from making some connections, rendering memory impossible. If my previous statements are correct then it could mean that my memories stopped in the evening or early night of 14 August.
I do not think that my loss of memory occurred for a longer period of time. I have a vague memory of being aware of the date of 13 August and, perhaps more significantly, that is my mother-in-law's birth date and I am fairly certain that Caroline and I did go to her cemetery on that day (although I have not yet asked Caroline for verification of this).