Joes Memory Loss
2006 was a bad year for us. We lost my Mother (careless I know but she was 87), the Dog died (she was 17), we moved house (from Essex where we moved to in 2000, back to Solihull), Joe was made redundant, and was panicking about not finding a job, our youngest Daughter was in a bad relationship, the other daughter had just met someone. I had a hysterectomy that was aborted half way through. Then had another 4 months later. You know. The usual problems.
We muddled on through 2007 and Joe found employment. In 2008 we decided that we needed a holiday. We now had two dogs so we decided a cottage holiday that accepted dogs would be great. However. I told Joe that I would expect sex at least twice whilst away and as he wouldn’t be stressed, he had no excuse. The stressful 2 years had taken its toll on our intimacy. He readily agreed.
We arrived on the Saturday and it was idyllic. Rolling hills of green, wild garlic in the hedgerows and just the most relaxing place you could be. There was Wi-Fi, and a TV, but we didn’t really need them. We walked the dogs, strolled along dog friendly beaches and visited forests. Lovely.
We had indeed bumped uglies and it was very successful. The holiday cottages provided Cordon Bleu meals, ready prepared and delivered to the cottage. So we arranged for this, plus wine for the Thursday. That morning we went for a long walk along the coast then got home, had a shower and began to get randy with each other…It must be the country air!
It was glorious. We were enjoying ourselves (well I was and I thought he was too), when Joe declared “I must be doing something wrong, I have a headache!”
Something wrong! Something wrong! Like we haven’t done this before! We changed position and achieved the mutual ending we wanted and lay, basking in post coital glow.
I turned to my lovely man and asked “How is your headache?”
Joe opened his eyes….looked startled and said “What headache? And where the hell are we?”
At first I told him not to mess about, then realised that he wasn’t messing about. He kept repeating….There is something wrong. I don’t know where I am….I have lost my memory!
Don’t worry the funny bit comes later.
I got dressed and went into the lounge to call NHS Direct, and Joe followed me. Upon seeing our dogs. One a large Red American Akita, and the other a black Labrador. He jumped and said “Bloody hell whose are those?” He didn’t know we had two daughters either.
I was told to take him to the nearest hospital which was 45 minutes’ drive away. So now, I have a husband who was panicking because he couldn’t remember anything and two dogs that were not to be left unattended in the cottage. I phoned the owner of the cottage who said he would waive the rule about the dogs and indeed feed and exercise them for me if I was a long time away. He then proceeded to arrive at the cottage.
He said…I am going to drive to the hospital and you must follow me. I do drive rather fast, but don’t worry if you hit anything it will only be me! That did scare me!
It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but driving at speed along Cornish country lanes was not easy. Especially as Joe was on a 5 second loop. He would say….Where are we going? Bloody Hell I have lost my memory? Where are we going? Then he would go quiet for a few seconds and repeat the same sentences. No matter what answer I gave or how many times I said please be quiet, I am trying to concentrate on following a madman, driving at speeds in excess of 70 miles an hour down country lanes….he kept on.
We got to the hospital and he was quickly shown into a cubicle. For those uninitiated in NHS hospital emergency rooms. The cubicle is a bed with curtains around it.
Now the fun starts.
Skinny young Nurse: Now what is the matter…?
Me: He has lost his memory
Skinny young Nurse: I see. And what were you doing when this happened.
Me: Having sex.
Joe: No….were we? (So bloody shocked you would think I took his virginity)
Skinny young Nurse: With a sly grin…oh yes…. (She then looked at my 44 year old gorgeous former rock singer Joe, then at his 20 stone wife and smirked).
She took other details and walked away. When she met up with the other nurses a loud laugh was heard, then admiring (I hope) glances at me. I was obviously punching above my weight. Which is an effing great achievement for someone so large. I can’t usually punch above waist height!
Please bear in mind that the people in the other cubicles could hear this too. So everyone knew what was going on.
Next came a Doctor….I hear you have lost your memory….
Joe: Yes….
Doctor: What were you doing…?
Here we go!
Joe: I can’t remember (no shit Sherlock!)
Doctor: Perhaps your wife can answer then (with a decided leer)
Me: We were having Sex.
Joe: NO really? (Again with the virginal disbelief).
Doctor to me: What did you do?
Me: Exactly what do you want to know? I didn’t think he needed details, I mean I am broad minded but…come on some things are private!
Doctor: Did you ask him anything.
Me: Yes I asked him what year it is and who was Prime Minister.
Doctor: Have you medical training?
Me: No, I just thought it was the right thing to do. (Apparently it is….I was asked several times by different Doctors and Nurses if I had medical training. I can put an Elastoplast on a cut and a bandage if necessary….)
Doctor: Did he get the answers right
Me: No…he thought it was 1996 and was shocked to hear it was Gordon Brown (weren’t we all?).
Doctor looking at my ample carriage….was it vigorous sex?
Me (sheepishly): Not really (I lied, just thrusting my hips, was vigorous to me).
By now I could hear the other patients starting to titter. After a few more questions the Doctor ordered a cat scan and an MRI, full blood work up. Then left.
Meanwhile….Joe has changed his mantra to….Oh My God…this is a hospital….have I had a heart attack? Tell me Mary you know about these things. Over and over and over and over again. The really, really strange thing was….He kept quoting the Quadratic Equation (X=-B+/-square root of B squared minus 4AC over two) and my mobile phone number, but he didn’t remember we had sex!
Another nurse approached….so you’ve lost your memory….what were you doing?
Me: Having sex.
Joe; Really? We were having numpty? (Bloody HELLS BELLS! I don’t ever remember him being that much of a girl).
That nurse left and Joe decided he needed a wee. I called the nurse….she asked what we needed and Joe said nothing. I said….you need a wee. He had forgotten! She left a bottle.
Then he remembered and said, can you leave me because I can’t do it if you are here. I duly went behind the curtain. Now Joe’s aim has never been that good and he obviously had trouble aiming for the neck of the Papier Mache bottle. I could hear the splashing as he missed and pissed on the floor. I later advised him to just put his love stick in the neck of the bottle and let it flow.
Having to clean Joe’s piss off the floor wiped the smirks off the skinny Angels of Mercy’s faces though.
His mantra changed again to….OMG this is a hospital, have I had a heart attack? Did I just piss in a bottle….most of the time I answered….No… you missed.
After a while and a visit by at least another 3 different nurses and 2 more Doctors I became aware that the same questions were being asked…
Nurse/Doctor: So you’ve lost your memory?
Joe: Yes
Nurse/Doctor: What were you doing?
Joe: I don’t remember…
Me: We were having sex.
Joe: Really… we were having nookie (looking so shocked I was beginning to think I had never had sex with him and had hallucinated the previous years, didn’t really have two daughters etc.
I must really be the VIRGIN MARY!
I came to realise that word had spread through the hospital that it was funny, so everyone wanted to see the bloke who had lost his memory and was surprised he had sex. I think they were surprised that we still had sex or maybe they didn’t believe me.
The hospital trains Navy Medics, so it was full of seamen (see what I did there?) Appropriate somewhat?
Whilst Joe was repeating his mantra and I was telling him he had lost his memory, I heard the people in the cubicle next to us. The man had bone cancer and was in such pain, he had come to see if the hospital could help. Suddenly my problem didn’t seem so bad.
A little while later, I heard the man tell his wife….That poor woman, she has been answering the same questions for the last hour. It’s like he can’t hold the memory. She has the patience of a saint.
Well we ARE Mary and Joseph!
The next time Joe asked why he was in hospital I told him he was abducted by aliens and they had left the anal probe in….he laughed….funnily he believed that easier than we had sex! The next answer was he tried to kiss the Queen and the bodyguards
duffed him up. More laughs. The more he asked, the more outrageous my answers. He was awaiting plastic surgery to look like George Clooney….His dick had fallen off and we were waiting for it to be sewn back on. Soon…only the very sick were not laughing. The nurses, patients and Joe and I were giggling like little kids. By now it was around 2 in the morning, when yet another uniformed male asked the usual question of “what were you doing” and Joe reacted with shock at me taking advantage of him, such an innocent young man, he was 44! He was then taken for a cat scan. They left me by the bed with the curtains drawn back.
The man with bone cancer was making ready to leave and as he passed the cubicle struck up a conversation with me. He told me it was the most enjoyable visit to a hospital in his life. He said I mustn’t worry and he felt sure everything would be ok. I feel so humble just remembering this.
At 6 o’clock in the morning they told me I should go and get some rest. Joe would be taken to a ward and I could come back later. Thank God for Satnav. Joe had programmed the holiday cottage as home. So I did what I was told and drove back. There was a lovely mist hovering over the valleys, the sun was trying to break through. I turned down a lane and a deer was standing in the middle of the road, just looking at me. Then it seemed to do a jerky little dance and ran off.
I ate the Cordon Bleu meal for breakfast (obscure) but left the wine in the fridge and after feeding then walking the dogs. Fell into bed. Sleep took a long time to arrive.
Later, I went back to the hospital to find Joe had been taken for an MRI…I walked down the corridor to meet him and he asked….”is it true….were we really….having Rumpy Pumpy before I lost my memory”…the porter pushing him laughed out loud. Honestly! What was his problem! He wasn’t a virgin when I met him, so why did he act like such a prude now!
Back on the ward we were visited by FOUR, yes FOUR Doctors who all wanted to know what we had been doing. I swear one of them was the Coroner, one a porter, one a cook and perhaps one was a patient who borrowed scrubs to just ask THE question and get the standard response from Joe….total shock and a little bit of horror! I was the laughing stock of the hospital. Good job I am thick skinned.
Joe was kept in hospital until the Saturday, when he was allowed to leave. The diagnosis was Transient Global Amnesia. Brought on by stress (I am obviously one hot Momma in the sack). When we got home, I brought my daughters up to date on the diagnosis (I had been phoning them to let them know what was happening). I was telling them that it was brought on by stress when THEY asked the question….
WHAT HAD YOU BEEN DOING?
