the blog spot

— posted by Teresella Gondolo, MD on May 28, 2023 HITLER’S

Medical Mystery

An excerpt from Fifty Shades of Gray Matter. He was Hitler. Not the evil Nazi dictator returned somehow from the inferno to which he had been consigned. Apparently, as with the witches in Oz, there were both good and bad Hitlers. He informed me that he was, in fact, a good Hitler, having been unfortunately named for the infamous German monster. That any parent would name a child Hitler was both inexplicable and disturbing. However, it was not uncommon in his small village near Quito, Ecuador. Children there had also been Stalin and Mao. Clearly, name recognition took precedence over reputation.

HITLER’S WIFE THOUGHT HE HAD COVID.

His name never bothered him much. It mostly bothered other people wherever his ID was checked, at the airport, at the immigration office, and even during his doctor visits. It was always greeted with stares and smirks and sardonic comments. He bore no resemblance to his namesake. He was a sweet soul who loved children and animals and had rescued several cats. The last one was a month ago, a skinny black kitten abandoned in a park on a small blanket.

I met him in early June of 2020, the year of the plague, when most primary doctors were only available on Zoom, a word not familiar to many patients. Hospitals were still overwhelmed with COVID admissions; everything else a secondary consideration.

Hitler’s children did not want him to go to the ER for fear of contagion. My office had retained some sign of normalcy, but the COVID threat loomed over all. Hitler was sitting not so peacefully next to his wife Ninfa. At 10 a.m., a few minutes after they had arrived, my office manager came running.

“There is a commotion. Mr. Hitler is flapping like a bird with a broken wing.”

“Mr. Hitler?”

“Yes, that is actually his name.”

“Put him in a room,” I replied.

When I finally saw him, his right arm was springing up and down in a fashion disturbingly like the Nazi salute. The motion was flailing and violent, seemingly uncontrollable, despite the efforts of his wife to physically restrain.

“Hitler has been doing this for the last two weeks.” his wife reported. “Everybody thinks he is going mad, maybe from the forced quarantine at home.”

I was skeptical.

“The COVID virus attacked his brain,” Ninfa went on. “He told me he can’t stop doing this. He’s saluting like a Nazi. He’s only quiet at night in his sleep.” the radiologist called. Hitler was still on the table and needed a contrast injection. At 9 p.m. he called back.

Their primary doctor told them over the phione that it was probably stress. He sent them to me since my office was open even though at a reduced capacity.

Hitler apparently had suffered a blood disorder when he was younger but was otherwise in good health, except for some mild fever, fatigue, and swollen lymph nodes for the last month. Those symptoms had been attributed to the COVID virus and treated with azithromycin empirically. I was unconvinced of any COVID connection, and thought that it could be a rare movement disorder that I had seen only once during my training.

A movement so dramatic, violent, and unpredictable was impossible to miss. My suspected diagnosis was “hemiballism,” from the Greek “hemi,” meaning half, and “ballism,” meaning jumping. (I loved Greek and the array of medical words derived from its roots.)

I knew that in his age group the cause was usually a stroke, but I was in for a surprise.

Miraculously I was able to get a brain MRI for Hitler the same day despite the paucity of medical personnel. At 6 p.m.

“There is a lesion that looks like an infection, a mass lesion in the area of the left basal ganglia.”

A lesion? Suddenly, the light went on. I called Hitler and Ninfa. He needed immediate hospitalization. They went to a major hospital with my referral and the radiologist report.

He was admitted the same day. The cause was acute toxoplasmosis, an unusual but not unheard-of cause of hemiballism. I remember Ninfa saying how Hitler rescued stray cats.

It appeared that the little black feral furball rescued a month ago was the cause of his misery. The kitten had perhaps eaten infected rodents or birds while in the park. Hitler must

Chronic

from page 10 ing, and then started having repeated nightmares about my father trying to kill me. I have since developed insomnia, and rarely fall asleep until 2-3 am. have unwittingly ingested the toxoplasma parasites by touching his mouth with soiled hands after cleaning the cat litter.

Why do I bother baring my soul for everyone to see? My goal is to start a conversation about the damage bullies do to children and adults. Bullying has a cumulative effect on its victims. The more you have been on the receiving end, the less it takes to shake you to your soul. Only people who have been bullied can understand.

My hopes and dreeams? In a perfect world I would like to see a non-profit organization founded to study, inform, and lobby for real change in how we perceive and deal with all aspects of bullying.

I have written the lyrics to a song about my experience with bullying, and the process was actually cathartic. I’m currently looking for a musician to collaborate with to complete the song to possibly help spread the message.

I hope this article helps you better understand the true cost of bullying.

He was immediately started on medications after his blood work showed a rising antibody count.

Ninfa gave very precise instructions to his son. The little black kitten initially called “El Prince,” since rechristened “El Toxo,” was sent to an animal shelter.

Hitler was saddened but understood that there could be no more contact with cats. He recovered completely. After being named Hitler and having his path crossed by a black cat, he was due for a change in his luck.

Teresella Gondolo is a neurologist and author of Fifty Shades of Gray Matter

+ by Dan Pearson

So how s that little 5-year-old of yours?

He asked me the other day what it s like to be a parent.

I said would think about it and tell him later. What did you tell him? And?

woke him up at 2 o clock the next morning and told him I was thirsty.