Clive and Deborah, In Their Own Words

Clive Wearing: I'm completely confused.

Deborah Wearing: Confused?

Clive Wearing: Yes. If you've never eaten anything, never tasted anything, never touched anything, never smelled something, what right have you to assume you're alive?

Deborah Wearing: But you are.

Clive Wearing: Apparently, yes. But I'd like to know what the hell's been going on.

Narrator: A cruel twist in Clive Wearing's life story shows us just how fundamental memory is to being human.

Deborah Wearing: It all started with a headache. Clive came home one day and said he had a very bad headache. By the fourth day, he developed quite a high fever. And on the evening of the fourth day, for a little while, he forgot his daughters name. By the fifth day, he was very delirious.

Narrator: In March 1985, a virus invaded Clive Wearing's nervous system. The resulting infection ravaged his memory, resulting in severe retrograde and anterograde amnesia.

Deborah Wearing: Clive's world now consists of a moment with no past to anchor it. And no future to look ahead to. It is a blinkered moment. He sees what is right in front of him. But as soon as that information hits the brain, it fades. Nothing makes an impression. Nothing registers.

Narrator: This whirlwind of unstable sensations often left Clive confused and angry.

Clive Wearing: Just use your intelligence, then let's have a [inaudible].

Deborah Wearing: But you put-- who would put that in--

Clive Wearing: I don't know, but no-- oh for heaven's sake, use your intelligence, for heaven's sake. I haven't read this in bed, the fucking thing. Well, use your intelligence.

Deborah Wearing: Clive gets extraordinarily angry, and who wouldn't? Because, here you're not dealing with somebody who is demented, whose oblivious, who is gaga. You are dealing with a perfectly lucid, highly intelligent man, who has been robbed of knowledge of his own life.

Narrator: Prior to the illness, Clive Wearing enjoyed and esteemed career as a conductor and expert musician.

Deborah Wearing: Clive was a musician of enormous integrity. And he worked a great deal in contemporary music. He was chorus master for London's Sinfonietta, which is Europe's foremost group.

Narrator: Clive has retained the ability to play music because many physical activities, such as playing an instrument, rely on procedural memory. What gives Clive's life, some degree of continuity, is his love for his wife Deborah.

Deborah Wearing: The strongest things in his life, I believe, his diaries bear that out, is his love for me. And that's absolutely raw. And each time I walk into that room, it is as if it's the first time he's seen me for years.

Clive Wearing: Good heavens, love [laughning]. Oh darling, I didn't know you were here. [laughing]

Narrator: In 1992, Clive moved to a facility dedicated to helping patients recover from brain injuries.

Deborah Wearing: One of the things that characterizes Clive's day, is that he can continually make entries in his diary. It is an inner compulsion to record the momentous event of waking up. He will record the time, 10:50 AM, awake first time. And then he looks at the previous entry, which was 10:48 AM, awake first time. And he says, no, I wasn't awake then, that wasn't me. So whose birthday is it next month?

Clive Wearing: Mine. And my brother.

Deborah Wearing: And how old will you be?

Clive Wearing: 93,000.

Deborah Wearing: No.

Clive Wearing: No?

Deborah Wearing: How old do you think really?

Clive Wearing: 21.

Deborah Wearing: No. How old do you really-- how old do you feel?

Clive Wearing: 22.

Deborah Wearing: You feel 22. And how old do you think you are?

Clive Wearing: 67.

Deborah Wearing: Nope.

Clive Wearing: No?

Deborah Wearing: Do you really think you're 67?

Clive Wearing: I don't, no idea what it is. Not a clue, could be 90 or 100 for all I know about it.

I've no idea. I've never seen a human being never had a dream or a thought. The brain has been totally inactive, day and night the same. Ah look whose come!

Narrator: Clive still suffers from profound amnesia. But his love for Deborah remains undimmed, and in 2002 the couple renewed their marriage vows.

Deborah Wearing: That was a very musical kiss. I'm dizzy, I don't know which part of the room I'm standing in now.