by Tina Jackson
The fall semester at Eastern Kentucky University, in 1980, was full of promise and anticipation.
However, if I had known of the unfortunate events that would conclude that school term, I would have returned to the security of my home.
I was at EKU to earn a second B.S. degree. I had completed adegree in Social Work a few years earlier, but after working in the field for a short time I realized I was not suited for this job. I felt it too stressful and the stress manifested itself in physical illness and seizures. I thought if I coupled my Social Work degree with my Medical Records degree, I could work in a hospital with Medical Records and still be in the environment to help people.
The semester started out with great excitement for a new challenge, community, and future. However, a month into my schoolwork I began having headaches. I attributed this to the increased reading, long study hours, and stress. The headaches continued and I began to experience short-term memory loss. I was losing things or forgetting where I parked my car. Something I might call “senior moments” now. But I continued to attend class even though the content of the lessons did not stay with me.
By the end of the second month, my memory problems grew worse. I found myself in places and not remember how I got there. Because I was living in a new community, the people around me did not have a frame of reference with which to judge my condition. So, there was no one to alert me or my family of my deteriorating health. I began to lose my balance and fell several times. But I still tried to attend classes. Any reasonable thinking person would have sought medical attention. But in my weakened mental and physical state, I actually did not know how badly I needed the help. I was confused and still experiencing memory
loss.
The memory I have now of that time is patchy. However, I do remember some things with a kind of punishing clarity. I recall receiving a telephone call from a friend in another city. I thought, “Thank God, someone knows where I am!” I was beginning to feel as though I was living in a time warp and no one could ever find me. Yet, I still did not go for help.
Another haunting memory is of that time is when I finally realized that I needed to call for help. I went to a telephone booth to call my parents and I was standing in the booth with the phone in my hand. I was looking at the phone and realized that I had no idea how to use a telephone. I was trying to reconstruct the steps I needed to take to make the call in my mind. Pick up the phone, put the coin in the slot, and dial. The words went through my mind, but my brain couldn’t grasp their meaning! Angry and frustrated, I sank to thebottom of the booth sobbing and praying.
Somehow I made it back to my room where my room mate called my parents. They came for me the next day. I was taken to the UK Medical Center for neurological examinations. During this period oftime, I also lost my speech in gradual progression. I must have been shocking sight to my parents.
I have since recovered my memory and most of my health. I learned alternative methods of communication. While in a rehab center I learned to use computers and secured a position with AT&T for six years. I was then laid off in 1991. AT&T paid for two years ofcollege so I was able to go back to school and finish my Medical Records degree and fulfill my goals from that strange and fateful fall semester of 1980 so long ago.
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