I didn't know before that there are many different steps involved in a conversation. On my 25th wedding anniversary, the day I thought I was having a stroke, I learned there are a good half dozen or more.
None of mine were working right.
First you hear the words someone says. Rather, you hear the sounds. That's one step.
Then you translate the sounds into words. Step two.
Then you get the meaning of the words. Step three.
You have a response. Four.
You comprehend the meaning of your reaction. Five.
You formulate words for your answer. Six.
You get the words out. Okay, seven. There are seven steps that I know of.
That day each of them was almost impossible for me. And when I could perform this task, the exhaustion from the effort was indescribable.
My mother took me to my general practitioner's office as my escort and my translator. She has a background as a nurse so we thought this might help. And, she is my mom.
She told the doctor, "She thinks she's having a stroke." He pooh-poohed this, smiling a patronizing smile as he checked my vitals. The smile vanished as he found my blood pressure was sky-high. Scary high. Suddenly, he took me seriously.
He sent me immediately to the hospital and had some heart tests done. Results would declare that I was perfectly healthy.
I went home, to bed.
I was in bed 24 hours a day for weeks. Then I'd get up for two hours in the evening and watch TV with the family.
I was a zombie. I went nowhere except to medical appointments. Housebound for months. Slept and slept and slept. Looked at the walls. Graduated to sitting in a chair in my room. Looked out the window.
For hours. For days. For months.
[End of Part 2]
I spent 15 years losing the battle against CFS. Two years ago, I found treatment that worked for me, and now I am making a comeback.