MAYO CLINIC
ROCHESTER, MINNESOTA
SEPTEMBER 8, 1989
11:00 A.M.
Eight months later, the White House is the last thing on Ronald Reagan’s mind.
A surgical drill hums as the former president lies flat on his back in an operating room. Fifty-nine-year-old brain surgeon Dr. Thoralf Sundt presses the bit against the right side of Reagan’s skull and carefully opens a hole the size of a nickel in his cranium. Two months ago, Reagan was thrown from a horse while riding at a friend’s ranch in Mexico, just south of the Arizona border.
The horses used during the ride were unshod and left to run wild when not saddled, leading Secret Service agent John Barletta to warn Reagan against the ride. Nancy took the advice, but the former president did not. On the second day at the ranch, Reagan’s horse was spooked by a wild bull. It began bucking wildly. At first, Reagan was able to hang on. But the frightened horse continued kicking its hind legs straight up into the air, and on the third buck, Reagan was hurled from the saddle. He flew so high that his entire body rose above the heads of those riding alongside him.
Reagan landed hard, slamming his head into the rocky soil, just missing a patch of cactus. “Rawhide down,” Agent Barletta yelled into his radio, marking the first time those words had been uttered since the assassination attempt of eight years earlier.
Reagan lay unconscious, but he soon revived. At first he appeared uninjured. Nevertheless, he was flown by military helicopter to an army hospital in Arizona, where he was treated for scrapes and bruises, then brought back to the ranch to continue the vacation—albeit without any further horseback rides.
But unbeknownst to Reagan and his doctors, a blood vessel in his head ruptured during the fall. For two months fluid has been leaking into his skull, causing a clot that is slowly putting pressure on Reagan’s brain. This condition, known as a subdural hematoma, alters mood and vision and elevates levels of dementia. Patients often complain of headaches or simply fall into a stupor before seeking treatment. But Reagan’s hematoma is a silent killer, with no outward symptoms other than his usual forgetfulness. Were it not for his annual physical here at the Mayo Clinic, the former president’s condition might never have been discovered. But a precautionary CAT scan located the clot, and Reagan was rushed into surgery.
Dr. Sundt removes the drill, then looks through the opening at Reagan’s brain. In the course of his job, the esteemed surgeon glimpses the human brain on an almost daily basis. But this is the brain of a living president. Dr. Sundt has the unique opportunity to save Reagan’s life.
Clinically, the procedure Reagan is undergoing is known as a burr. In many cases, it is necessary to drill a second and even third hole to ease the pressure, but the brain surgeon is satisfied that one burr is enough for Reagan.
And that, seemingly, is that. Less than an hour after being sedated, Ronald Reagan is wheeled into the recovery room. His doctors are satisfied that Reagan shows no signs of the stroke, nerve damage, or paralysis so common in elderly patients suffering from head trauma. But the truth is that despite the operation, the fall has accelerated Reagan’s debilitating condition.
Nancy Reagan will one day sum it up best: “I’ve always had the feeling that the severe blow to his head in 1989 hastened the onset of Ronnie’s Alzheimer’s.”
* * *
Four years later, Ronald Reagan is still functioning. The date is February 6, 1993, and the occasion is Reagan’s eighty-second birthday. Reagan and Margaret Thatcher chat amiably about their lives since leaving office. Unlike Reagan, Thatcher did not go of her own accord. She was forced out by her own Conservative Party in 1990 and cried as she left 10 Downing Street for the last time.1 Now, at age sixty-seven, she makes her living giving speeches at fifty thousand dollars per appearance and works on her memoirs. The state of dementia in which she will spend her twilight years is still almost a decade away, and she is sharp as she stands next to Reagan in the “Oval Office.”
The birthday fund-raiser is not at the White House but in Simi Valley, California. Tonight Reagan and Thatcher are standing in the exact replica of the Oval Office now on display here at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Thatcher and a host of celebrities have gathered for this five-hundred-dollar-per-plate dinner to raise money for the library. Old Hollywood friends Jimmy Stewart and Merv Griffin and media mogul Rupert Murdoch are among the five hundred guests at the black-tie affair. The festive night sold out immediately.
Reagan and Thatcher move into the great white tent pitched on the library lawn, where dinner will be served. The menu is crab-stuffed fillet of sole, prime rib, and baby potatoes, all washed down with the California wines Ronald Reagan has long enjoyed. Dessert will be another longtime Reagan favorite, Häagen-Dazs ice cream topped with fudge sauce.
The night belongs to Ronald Reagan, and it is Margaret Thatcher who rises first to pay homage. She praises him for bringing “the Evil Empire crashing down.”
“If Ronald Reagan’s birthday is celebrated warmly in California,” continues Thatcher, “it is celebrated even more warmly in Prague, Warsaw, Budapest and Moscow itself.”
Then it’s Reagan’s turn to toast Thatcher. “Thank you, Margaret, for those very kind words,” he begins. Reagan’s toast continues at length. He wrote and memorized it beforehand. On paper, the speech fills four typewritten pages. “I don’t think I really deserve such a fuss for my birthday. But as George Burns once said, ‘I have arthritis and I don’t deserve that, either,’” he says with a smile.
Reagan continues. “Margaret, you have always been a staunch ally and a very dear friend. For all of us, I say thank you for the immense role you have played in shaping a better world. And I personally thank you for the honor of your presence tonight.”
As he finishes, the entire tent thunders with roars of “hear, hear” and the clinking of glasses.
Moments later, Reagan stands to deliver a second toast.
Anticipation grows as the former president stands erect, his blue eyes shining, his tuxedo perfectly fitted to his body, which looks a decade younger than his actual age of eighty-two. To the casual observer, Ronald Reagan appears to be fit and healthy.
Slowly, he turns to Margaret Thatcher and raises his glass once again. Mrs. Thatcher is beaming, and the audience eagerly awaits Reagan’s next memorable line. Smiling, he begins to speak.
“Thank you, Margaret, for those very kind words,” he says, raising his glass. “I don’t think I really deserve such a fuss for my birthday. But as George Burns once said, ‘I have arthritis and I don’t deserve that, either,’” Reagan says with a chuckle.
Immediately, shock envelops the room as Ronald Reagan, word for word, delivers the same exact four-page toast to Margaret Thatcher that he uttered just a few moments ago.
Reagan continues for two excruciating minutes.
“And I personally thank you for the honor of your presence here tonight,” the former president tells Margaret Thatcher, raising his glass once again.
Reagan’s friends sit in stunned silence.