‘That’s the cats you see …. I don’t think it’s the cat. I think it’s me.’
Anna often has a cover story to explain a behaviour that she does not want to own. But this time she was saying it was her. And the cry that she had made – a bit like a cat – was a real cry of pain.
After watching her experiencing these spasms for some time, I thought that’s enough and called the doctor. It being the weekend, I got the emergency service, which calms you down or winds you up by going through a set sequence of questions – but they agreed that a doctor would come, and so he did, five hours later.
By then the pain had gone and she did not remember it. And could not understand what the young man was doing there.
I felt like one of those victims of a practical joke that they show on television, where you are left to explain yourself, while the perpetrator of some incident has run away.
The doctor was very sympathetic and reassuring, and we have some anti-biotics now, in case she is ill again. Without memory, everything comes as a surprise.