Friday, November 11, 2016

Hallucinations…or goodbye to the good times

The lovely 19th-century people no longer party and mingle and linger in my back yard in the middle of the night. Nor does the magnificent wild dog lie next to the wall and survey his peaceable kingdom. My hallucinations are gone.

At first I thought they were simply middle of the night flights of fancy. Then I thought they made an amusing story. Neither my family nor my doctor were amused, and the latter expressed his opinion in one word: hallucinations.

It’s not a bad thing that they’re gone, at least from my point of view. I no longer wonder where I am when I wake up. One morning I’m sure I scared Jordan by asking if I was truly in my own space. Then I sat up in bed and pointed to the foot of the bed—the baby? I asked. She moved a pile of clothes and showed me there was no baby there.

Other mornings—and one afternoon—I thought I was in neighbors’ houses. I remember when Subie let herself in by the deck doors—my first thought was, “Subie, do you know these people well enough to walk into their home without knocking?” Of course, it was my home, and yes she knows to come and go without knocking. Other mornings I woke up in a purple and lavender bedroom—not my style, I assure you. I soon learned that if I closed my eyes and waited the bedroom would once again be a soft yellow.

So, amusement benefits aside, it was a disquieting experience and a huge lesson in the power of modern medicine. Bless my physician, Dr. Richwine, who knew right away what was going on. And my advice? Don’t accept strange behavior as just something that happens—ask your doctor. Amazing what those trained professionals know!

Obviously, I can’t find a picture to go with this. Wish I could. Some of those night scenes were truly lovely. So instead here's a new picture of Sophie.

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