There are some specific things about the way our minds work that I find endlessly fascinating: what really makes us happy, sleep and dreams, and memory, which I’ve written about before. Although I specify “mind” here, I don’t deny that much — if not all — our behavior is based in our biology. But these particular topics seemed to fit the loose category of “mind” vs. body, at least, until I experienced Transient Global Amnesia (TGA).
This is the most bizarre experience I’ve ever had, though certainly much more stressful for my husband than for me. Of the three-plus hours we spent in an Emergency Room, I only remember bits and pieces, while he experienced the entire ordeal. It happened after I’d done a Pilates mat routine, which I do at home. I didn’t go particularly hard and didn’t feel any physical issues at all: no dizziness, no nausea, not even any soreness. I vaguely remember finishing that exercise session and sitting down to watch a second Pilates video I was interested in. At some point, not long after, my husband came upstairs – within the last month, we had moved his office/studio space from one of the upstairs bedrooms into the basement. I had no memory of that move. I had no memory of anything that had happened within the last three months. I thought I still worked for my previous employer. I couldn’t tell my husband what I had done at work that day. I did not remember a recent work trip to Indiana.
Imagine living life in a series of movie jump cuts. You’re sitting on a couch. You’re in the passenger seat of your car, asking where you’re going. You’re in the ER waiting room, asking why you’re there. A nurse sticks small pads to your chest, presumably as a precursor to an EKG that you don’t remember. You are taken for a (second) CT scan. Only when you are in the machine do you remember you’ve done this before. You are walking out to your car through a garage you have no memory of ever having seen before, not even a vague “this feels familiar.” You are told that a nurse named Luke shined a light in your eyes, tested your reflexes, and had you do hand coordination tests with him. You have no memory of Luke, and never will. Like the garage, and getting into the car, and checking into the ER, and the EKG, you simply did not form memories of those events. Like your memory was blinking on and off, waiting to be reset.
Eventually, the last three months did start coming back, and as far as I know, my memories from prior to that night, and since, are as complete as they ever were. Doctors don’t know what causes TGA. The doctor that helped me had seen it before though, and correctly predicted that I had been exercising before it happened. The Mayo Clinic website page, linked above, lists a few other possible correlations.
I’ve started back to exercise slowly now, and I admit, a little fearfully. I’ll stick with basic Pilates mat for a week or so and put off lifting until next week (Another funny thing: I work out so much harder when I lift weights). I think I may have a story idea from this experience, one that never would have occurred to me before. Even if it had, I’m not sure I’d have felt capable of writing it. Not that I think we can only write about things we’ve experienced (that would suck), but it doesn’t hurt; I was far more confident about writing a scene in which my character has a concussion than I would have been if I’d never had one. I rarely see the pain of breaking bones given their due in books or movies, which is why I still vividly remember G.R.R.M.’s depiction of Ned’s broken leg agony in Game of Thrones. So, perhaps some poor character will end up living their life sans connecting scenes, à la Memento (but different, of course).