A Year of Unraveling: When Autoimmune Encephalitis Hijacked a Man's Memory

Sometimes the body's defenses go haywire and attack the organ that defines who we are: the brain. For California resident Christy Morrill, that medical paradox became a deeply personal crisis he called his "year of unraveling." What began as a forgetful moment after a bike ride spiraled into confusion, seizures and profound loss of autobiographical memory.

Sudden decline and a difficult diagnosis

Morrill, 72 and a lifelong literature student, went out with friends for a bike ride and lunch — but later could not recall the outing. Over days and weeks his confusion deepened. His wife, Karen, noticed subtle episodes she suspected were seizures; one occurred in front of another physician, prompting further tests and a spinal tap.

Specialized testing revealed LGI1-antibody encephalitis, a form of autoimmune encephalitis more commonly seen in men over 50. In this condition, rogue antibodies trigger inflammation in the brain, producing sudden memory loss, seizures, confusion and sometimes psychiatric symptoms. Treatment began with high-dose corticosteroids to suppress inflammation and an antiseizure medication to control seizure activity.

What he lost — and what he kept

Five years after his first symptom, Morrill has largely returned to everyday life but carries a persistent and heartbreaking loss: decades of personal, autobiographical memories. He still retains semantic knowledge — facts, figures and literary trivia learned long ago — and he continues to form new memories day to day. Yet family photos and reminders often fail to unlock pivotal moments from his own past, like his son’s wedding.

“I remember that Ulysses was published in Paris in 1922 at Sylvia Beach's bookstore. Why do I remember that, which is of no use to me anymore, and yet I can’t remember my son’s wedding?” Morrill asked.

Processing the experience

As his perception frayed, Morrill turned to haiku to make sense of the incomprehensible, writing of being “unhinged,” “fighting to see light,” and wondering whether the “meds coursing through me” were “dousing the fire. Rays of hope?” Over months of treatment he reflected progress and finally wrote: “I can sustain hope.”

Today Morrill still grieves the memories that are gone, but he focuses on making new experiences with his family and returning to the outdoors. “I’m reentering some real time of fun, joy,” he said. “I wasn’t shooting for that. I just wanted to be alive.”

Why this matters

Autoimmune encephalitis is increasingly recognized by clinicians as a treatable cause of sudden cognitive and psychiatric change. Early diagnosis and prompt treatment with immunotherapies and seizure control can lead to substantial recovery for many patients, though some deficits — particularly for autobiographical memory — may persist. Morrill’s story highlights both the disruptive power of these illnesses and the resilience of patients and families who navigate recovery.