Hm, feck, i tried to finish the post i've been threatening to finish for however long now about the second half of my Hawaii trip, but i guess it was eclipsed by some other galactic projectile in the foreground. Boosh. No casualties here in Moscow, Idaho though, fortunately.
It was in my belated-as-usual fashion, i paid recognition to St. Valentine's, the patron saint of epilepsy. (Which isn't to say my usual recognition of Valentine's Day; i can't remember ever carpe-dieming on Valentine's specifically.) 4pm ish on Friday, one hour before i was set to clock out for the weekend, my brain went and decided to do that very thing. One measly hour short of three weeks home-free. But considering that's 119 hours worth of fluorescent lights and fretting, i'll deem it not too shabby. Which isn't to say i'm not fairly wigged out about it, anyhow, though it could've been lots worse. Or maybe it was and nobody's told me yet.
I'm still scared as shit to face the music in the morning. But as far as i can tell i still have a job, and most importantly i didn't faceplant down stairs or hit my head on concrete on the way down. I don't know who all saw. The last i remember, nobody was in the immediate vicinity. Which sometimes bodes well as far as eating shit goes on account that from the point where i recognize i'm about to consume a giant poopsicle, there's an overwhelming fight or flight response that takes over, leagues beyond panic-stricken terror, i swear. So, regardless of how much i try to convince myself i'm in a safe place, it's okay, la la la; especially if people are around, my legs just want to GO.
Only, eventually one of my legs, moreover, one half of me entirely becomes incapacitated. (Geeze, we haven't even discussed any of this shiz yet, have we?) Well, some people (especially with the more common, temporal lobe epilepsy variety) have auras where they see, taste or smell things, have deja vous or religious experiences. My auras just start as a tingling in my hand and slowly progress to full loss of motor control (twitching and jerking on my right side). It turns out i can walk beyond the point where i can get myself safely down. So i try to bolt; i can go forward, but with one side not cooperating, i can no longer lower myself to the ground safely. Even though i know that when that ant-farm-in-my-arm sensation hits my shoulder (2-5 minutes post initial "oh shit" moment) i'm going to fall like a tree. Boom. Lights out. I'm almost six feet, and it seems like a minor distance until you realize the next morning it's a goddamn doozie of a drop to absorb with your dome.
Oh yeah, at some point my speech goes. I know what other people are saying, i know what i want to say, but i can't for the life of me say it. When i want nothing more in the world than to reassure someone that everything's gonna be okay, that this just happens sometimes and don't worry, no big deal, blah, blah, blah, my locution is rendered totally chop-sueyed, incomprehensible, gibberish. Which is convenient, really.
So there was a lot of blood which i feel bad about, because that never helps to placate the situation, but as much as i hate biting my tongue, it's even more maddening when i crack my head open. It's a wicked vicious cycle without further head trauma to exacerbate whatever wonky ass shit is going down. Not to mention i feel so stupid. It's not like i don't have a warning or anything. Gah. But some relief was enjoyed in realizing the blood was just coming from my mouth. Not lots of relief, but some.
So it was a bit of a rug pulled out from under my feet. Almost magic carpet status, since it was all the way back in September i had my last full-blown seizure. Five months. I had mmm a handful of partial seizures; i knew i wasn't entirely out of the woods, but i'd hoped they'd decided generalizing (progressing to loss-of-consciousness) was not such a practical or perspicacious thing to do on a regular basis. Partial seizures are obnoxious, but they're more compatible with life and imminent survival than full-blown, tonic-clonic ones. And it wasn't really that long ago i was having full-blown seizures every other dayish, so it's honky-dory territory still we're treading in- i just have to pick up my head sometimes and remember it.
The ambulance was called, but it was a couple of my friends on duty whom i needed to catch up with anyhow, so that part of things was mellow. Bless it. Plus, i don't think the seizure itself was too bad. Sometimes i'm dunzo, konked-out worthless for the rest of the day. I was worthless, but after an hour and a half asleep on the couch, i was mostly-animate for the rest of the evening. I even had a friend over for spaghetti and a movie. (I ruined the spaghetti and my entire recollection of the flick was that Christopher Walken was in it.) I was even somewhere on the punchy-manic end of the spectrum, so that's more fun than feeling bull-dozered like i generally do afterwards.
I swim in my thoughts for about 48 hours post seizure, dog-paddling through a haze where words are elusive like darting, puckish sprites in a misty mire. Every step is a slog with an aching body. Even though i felt wrung out like a ratty dish rag, i dragged my arse to the rink and played a lot of hockey (horribly, but meh). Even prior to skating, my calves felt like i'd descended to hell and back via the stairs, my hips were two black and blue contusions that yelped when i grazed the counters or encountered pressure from the waist of my trousers, and my tongue is minorly hamburgered, but all-in-all i'm intact. My legs really hurt now, but the hockey therapy was just what my soul needed.
At least i'm okay right now on the couch here. I have a lot of apprehension regarding the logistics of my future employment situation and more immediately, walking through the front doors in the morning not knowing who saw, what they saw and alla that self-conscious hullabaloo. (Ha, i still haven't even told you much about the job- i'm working on that post, too. Suffice it to say, i'll be sad to lose it if it comes to that.)
Well, sheesh, this is probably such a nonsensical rant, but i sure do appreciate you slogging through it. I hope it's somewhat intelligible because i have to go catch some z's so i have the mental fortitude to show my face in that warehouse again without having a total emotional meltdown.
Cheerio, kiss kiss, lots-o-love and all the best to ya's! And as always, mongo heaps and piles of appreciation.
It was in my belated-as-usual fashion, i paid recognition to St. Valentine's, the patron saint of epilepsy. (Which isn't to say my usual recognition of Valentine's Day; i can't remember ever carpe-dieming on Valentine's specifically.) 4pm ish on Friday, one hour before i was set to clock out for the weekend, my brain went and decided to do that very thing. One measly hour short of three weeks home-free. But considering that's 119 hours worth of fluorescent lights and fretting, i'll deem it not too shabby. Which isn't to say i'm not fairly wigged out about it, anyhow, though it could've been lots worse. Or maybe it was and nobody's told me yet.
I'm still scared as shit to face the music in the morning. But as far as i can tell i still have a job, and most importantly i didn't faceplant down stairs or hit my head on concrete on the way down. I don't know who all saw. The last i remember, nobody was in the immediate vicinity. Which sometimes bodes well as far as eating shit goes on account that from the point where i recognize i'm about to consume a giant poopsicle, there's an overwhelming fight or flight response that takes over, leagues beyond panic-stricken terror, i swear. So, regardless of how much i try to convince myself i'm in a safe place, it's okay, la la la; especially if people are around, my legs just want to GO.
Only, eventually one of my legs, moreover, one half of me entirely becomes incapacitated. (Geeze, we haven't even discussed any of this shiz yet, have we?) Well, some people (especially with the more common, temporal lobe epilepsy variety) have auras where they see, taste or smell things, have deja vous or religious experiences. My auras just start as a tingling in my hand and slowly progress to full loss of motor control (twitching and jerking on my right side). It turns out i can walk beyond the point where i can get myself safely down. So i try to bolt; i can go forward, but with one side not cooperating, i can no longer lower myself to the ground safely. Even though i know that when that ant-farm-in-my-arm sensation hits my shoulder (2-5 minutes post initial "oh shit" moment) i'm going to fall like a tree. Boom. Lights out. I'm almost six feet, and it seems like a minor distance until you realize the next morning it's a goddamn doozie of a drop to absorb with your dome.
Oh yeah, at some point my speech goes. I know what other people are saying, i know what i want to say, but i can't for the life of me say it. When i want nothing more in the world than to reassure someone that everything's gonna be okay, that this just happens sometimes and don't worry, no big deal, blah, blah, blah, my locution is rendered totally chop-sueyed, incomprehensible, gibberish. Which is convenient, really.
So there was a lot of blood which i feel bad about, because that never helps to placate the situation, but as much as i hate biting my tongue, it's even more maddening when i crack my head open. It's a wicked vicious cycle without further head trauma to exacerbate whatever wonky ass shit is going down. Not to mention i feel so stupid. It's not like i don't have a warning or anything. Gah. But some relief was enjoyed in realizing the blood was just coming from my mouth. Not lots of relief, but some.
So it was a bit of a rug pulled out from under my feet. Almost magic carpet status, since it was all the way back in September i had my last full-blown seizure. Five months. I had mmm a handful of partial seizures; i knew i wasn't entirely out of the woods, but i'd hoped they'd decided generalizing (progressing to loss-of-consciousness) was not such a practical or perspicacious thing to do on a regular basis. Partial seizures are obnoxious, but they're more compatible with life and imminent survival than full-blown, tonic-clonic ones. And it wasn't really that long ago i was having full-blown seizures every other dayish, so it's honky-dory territory still we're treading in- i just have to pick up my head sometimes and remember it.
The ambulance was called, but it was a couple of my friends on duty whom i needed to catch up with anyhow, so that part of things was mellow. Bless it. Plus, i don't think the seizure itself was too bad. Sometimes i'm dunzo, konked-out worthless for the rest of the day. I was worthless, but after an hour and a half asleep on the couch, i was mostly-animate for the rest of the evening. I even had a friend over for spaghetti and a movie. (I ruined the spaghetti and my entire recollection of the flick was that Christopher Walken was in it.) I was even somewhere on the punchy-manic end of the spectrum, so that's more fun than feeling bull-dozered like i generally do afterwards.
I swim in my thoughts for about 48 hours post seizure, dog-paddling through a haze where words are elusive like darting, puckish sprites in a misty mire. Every step is a slog with an aching body. Even though i felt wrung out like a ratty dish rag, i dragged my arse to the rink and played a lot of hockey (horribly, but meh). Even prior to skating, my calves felt like i'd descended to hell and back via the stairs, my hips were two black and blue contusions that yelped when i grazed the counters or encountered pressure from the waist of my trousers, and my tongue is minorly hamburgered, but all-in-all i'm intact. My legs really hurt now, but the hockey therapy was just what my soul needed.
At least i'm okay right now on the couch here. I have a lot of apprehension regarding the logistics of my future employment situation and more immediately, walking through the front doors in the morning not knowing who saw, what they saw and alla that self-conscious hullabaloo. (Ha, i still haven't even told you much about the job- i'm working on that post, too. Suffice it to say, i'll be sad to lose it if it comes to that.)
Well, sheesh, this is probably such a nonsensical rant, but i sure do appreciate you slogging through it. I hope it's somewhat intelligible because i have to go catch some z's so i have the mental fortitude to show my face in that warehouse again without having a total emotional meltdown.
Cheerio, kiss kiss, lots-o-love and all the best to ya's! And as always, mongo heaps and piles of appreciation.
Whoops, what a story. I am shivering just reading it. You are one brave woman, yes you are. And in a fair world (what's that?) you should be wined and dined and have a work place just for your brilliant skills waiting for you. I mean, I worry a bit that my employers will eventually read between the lines of my medical diagnosis (they can, they are all "experts") and decide one of these days that I should be farmed out. But so far so good plus I have a good union rep.
ReplyDeleteBut you my dear are stronger than strong, you sort of live two lives it seems. Which you should not have to in an ideal world.
Have a decent rest and I hope it will be ok with the job.
One of the things I love so much about this blog community is that I am allowed to enter a window into the lives of others whom I would never, otherwise, have the honor to know at all. And in doing so, I am frequently reminded that I have no idea of what other people go through on a daily basis. No idea how they do it. And I am humbled.
ReplyDeleteYour spirit amazes me. I hope all goes well today. I hope you tell us here about that because I will be thinking of you all day.
I don't even know what to say. It's wild to come here and read about seizures, of course, from a FIRST PERSON PERSPECTIVE. It's a gift, albeit one that I'm certain you don't wish to give. Thank you, though, for doing it. For living your life as you do, for articulating your struggles with epilepsy and what goes with it. I feel such love for you -- and you must know why. Take care and good luck with the job.
ReplyDelete