I don't mean to turn this blog into a personal diary, but Mr. Brilliant's medical saga is starting to have more twists and turns than the roller coaster at Coney Island. Sometime during the night on Saturday, Mr. B. suffered a stroke. I am heading out now to Abercrombie and Neurosurgery Medical Center, where I hope Mr. B. is now, after Dr. Chess Club, a.k.a. a real-life Superman, and his real life Angel of Mercy, managed to get him sprung him from Klown Kar Hospital here in NJ, where an impaired but still with us on Sunday Mr. B. turned into an unresponsive person whacked out on three seizure meds with aspiration pneumonia. As of 9:30 last night he had still not arrived, but I'm assuming that if he didn't, they'd have called me.
I'll write more about this saga later, probably with somewhat less humor than last time, but right now I'm hoping that whoever takes out his breathing tube when they bring him out of sedation is under the expert eye of Spicoli the Anesthesiologist so Mr. B. doesn't freak out. At least I got to sleep a few hours last night without wailing. That might have woken the neighbors.
(Go to Part IV
Labels: moyamoya, personal musings