A 37-year-old man was admitted to a hospital several months ago with seizures. His M.R.I. was frightening, showing a brain full of holes. Medication controlled the seizures, but the drugs were just Band-Aids on a big, undiagnosed problem.
The patient was not particularly alarmed (which in itself was fairly alarming). His brain was riddled with infection or tumor, but all he wanted to do was get out of the hospital and go back to his life.
By all accounts, it was a troubled, isolated, drug-ridden existence in a fleabag hotel, a life free from anything resembling regular medical care. Still, he was ready to be on his way.
Read Full Article »
