Listlessness, which was unlike the active guy I knew, was a warning. One day, out of the blue, he forgot how to work the remote.
He had been making and planning our TV selections for a long time. He took pleasure in following the guide on the set to decide what we’d watch. This in itself, despite his enthusiasm, might have been a sign. Or maybe not. He liked to plan for a good time.
Resilient as he is, I found him on the phone with a tech asking him to help him work the TV remote. I would love to thank the very sweet man who walked him through this crisis.
For years, there were small things that, in retrospect, I see as warnings. He came home complaining of double vision. We chased this symptom for a year before Dr. Mitchell suggested it was a muscle problem.
And it disappeared. Along the same time line, probably 14 years ago, Burt got disoriented coming out of Central Park. He had to ask which way was east as he got to 5th Avenue. Familiar territory became a puzzle on that day.
Was his falling on the steps at Lincoln Center an indication? A year before his diagnosis, he fell again, this time on the sidewalk shooing away two small dogs. That was his account. He also seemed to find nothing silly or peculiar in his action. He never questioned the wisdom of chasing off little dogs.
Did long-term use of benadryl (“to take the edge off” his anxiety and help him sleep per our GP at the time) contribute?
Was life-long anxiety and being prone to panic attacks make him susceptible?
this is our life 