Potential Catastrophic Biological Failure Detector

Saturday comes quickly and Francesca returns home with the kids. Come Monday midday I’m attending my eldest daughter’s nursery for her induction day. It’s a big deal for us as its our baby’s first day at school, albeit nursery. And while she skips about making friends we’re being introduced to all the staff and facilities. Meanwhile, my youngest daughter, ever the extrovert (where does she get that from?), is happily milling about with children twice her age. Afternoon, I’m sitting outside the neurologist’s office at Kingston Hospital trying to get images of white haired Teutonic fops fighting vampiric hordes with nothing but a pointed stick (Python reference, had to get one in somewhere – The Americans will appreciate that, always have good taste in humour the Yanks). “Ahh… neurotic middle-aged Arab type woman sitting next to me, She’ll do”! Within three minutes she’s told me all her ailments and how’s she ended up sitting in a neurologist’s waiting room. Now if I could just use that ability on suspects in interview. I’m just about to diagnose her when, “Mr McNally?” “That’ll be me”. Apart from the regrettable name Dr Van Oertzen cuts a rather dashing profile. A slim, good looking six foot something forty-year old you just know has no problem picking up the ladies, der Scheißkerl.
We sit I talk. After some minutes and a plethora of hmm’s and aha’s the dashing doc recommends that I have an MRI scan the following day. I ask him that despite it being ‘early days’ does he have any idea what may be up with me? He replies that it could be some form of epilepsy. I protest that I’m not trashing around and losing consciousness. He retorts that there are many types of epilepsy, the ‘grand mal’ being only one. None the wiser I thank him for his time and patience and leave to make my appointment for tomorrow.


The internal ‘bodyclock’ is well documented. Indeed, Circadian rhythms are important in determining the sleeping and feeding patterns of all animals, including human beings. There are clear patterns of brain wave activity, hormone production, cell regeneration and other biological activities linked to this daily cycle. However, the ‘bodyclock I’m thinking about is when your girlfriend reminds you that she’s not getting any younger, and that she needs to get married and have children. I digress. Where am I going with this? Similarly, I actually believe that the human body has some sort of inbuilt destruction detection device insofar as we detect potential catastrophic biological failure in the absence of symptomology. Allow me to explain. Prior to the first incident taking place in September, I went up to see my Mother and Aunt at the family home in the North West of England. Whilst there I drove around all my old haunts, places I wouldn’t normally visit in a short weekend trip to my folks. Somehow I wanted to relive the memories (nostalgic son of a bitch). What made it all the more poignant was the fact that I had my three-year old daughter with me. It was summer, I wanted her to see where I grew up, what seasonal sensations I experienced at this time of year thirty years ago. I wanted to see her run with her bare feet through the damp sand collecting shells. I wanted her to pick the flowers from the borders in the park, and eat ice cream on the promenade. I wanted her to have some quality time with her grandmother.
I also visited a dive shop and found the bargain of the century in the shape of a one piece Oakley 7mm semi-dry suit. Wanting to pay cash, I left a small deposit and told the storekeeper that I would return at the end of the week. End of the week comes, and I start to make my way to the store. As I approach the door something internal physically prevented me from carrying on. A little voice inside my head saying, “forget it mate, you’re not going to need that suit, it’ll be a waste of money”. I didn’t pick it up, and I let the deposit go. At around the same time I started to Ebay everything. Stuff that had monetary and sentimental value, all were sold electronically. Confusing considering I’m such a horder of memories. Stranger still was my sudden obsession with constructing a list of 100 things to do before I died, and ticking them off as I religiously, no ritualistically, completed them. Meanwhile, Francesca shook her head at me in bewilderment. I remember that somehow I was ‘clearing the decks’, making sure that I had experienced everything that I could possibly experience legally, and not leaving clutter behind.