| Biographical Non-Fiction posted June 1, 2024 |
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Another day with Huntington's
Unexpected Visitors
by Mary Vigasin
It was not just a knock on the door. It was a loud banging so hard I thought the door would come off the hinges.
I went to open the door, ready to give the banger a piece of my mind. However, two police officers were on the doorstep, and behind them, their cars were lit up and flashing red.
The male officer was huge with bulging muscles. I expected he could bend a steel bar with just his pinkie. The other officer was a very attractive woman, small and delicate-looking. Then I got it. In domestic disputes, he was to stop any out-of-control person with his powerful muscles, and she was to console or calm down a distraught person.
Here before me were two cops with roles just like on TV.
I stepped out the door and explained there was no disturbance. My husband must have hit 911 by accident. I explained that he had cognitive issues.
They asked to step into the house to interview him. I guess they wanted to make sure he was not a victim of elder abuse.
Sitting on the couch, it was evident that what I said was true. The best way I can describe my husband's movements is that he resembles a drunken man with his facial and eye movements showing he was trying to concentrate on answering the question that he was fine.
I apologized to the police, and they left.
I went to take a nap; however, lately, I have woken up more tired than when I lay down.
It was not just a knock on the door. It was a loud banging so hard I thought the door would come off the hinges.
I went to open the door, ready to give the banger a piece of my mind. However, two police officers were on the doorstep, and behind them, their cars were lit up and flashing red.
The male officer was huge with bulging muscles. I expected he could bend a steel bar with just his pinkie. The other officer was a very attractive woman, small and delicate-looking. Then I got it. In domestic disputes, he was to stop any out-of-control person with his powerful muscles, and she was to console or calm down a distraught person.
Here before me were two cops with roles just like on TV.
I stepped out the door and explained there was no disturbance. My husband must have hit 911 by accident. I explained that he had cognitive issues.
They asked to step into the house to interview him. I guess they wanted to make sure he was not a victim of elder abuse.
Sitting on the couch, it was evident that what I said was true. The best way I can describe my husband's movements is that he resembles a drunken man with his facial and eye movements showing he was trying to concentrate on answering the question that he was fine.
I apologized to the police, and they left.
I went to take a nap; however, lately, I have woken up more tired than when I lay down.
 Recognized |
My husband has Huntington's disease. Some days are better than others. He actually stunk using the phone before he got sick, but I do know he hits the emergency button quite often.
Huntington is a hereditary fatal disease leading to progressive degeneration of nerve cells in the brain that affects movement, cognitive functions, and emotions.
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one point
and 2 member cents. Huntington is a hereditary fatal disease leading to progressive degeneration of nerve cells in the brain that affects movement, cognitive functions, and emotions.
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© Copyright 2024. Mary Vigasin All rights reserved.
Mary Vigasin has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.