Write; write about
what hasn't been written. I would like this wonderful repertoire of words
to freely flow to fingers from mind, but they aren’t there. Instead I
sit; a timeline due and nothing to put to paper. How did I get to this
point? How did I go from words that without a care could be penned to
none at all?
It wasn't always
this way. There was a time, when I sat day after day pounding keys and
weaving stories that people of all ages read. Before the accident.
Before a seizure took a small part of my mind and made it useless. Something no
one should have to live with once let alone multiple times. Yet that is
what happened. No warning that life would change suddenly. One day an
overworked middle aged woman without little care, the next each moment steeped
with fear.
Just off work
from scripting and software testing. Depending on the depth of the project;
great work but long hours. 1:00 p.m. on
Wednesdays is my Friday as others would see it if they lived my schedule.
A baby shower was coming up, and a stop at Target was needed. While deciding my
purchase, my vision blurred and thoughts raced. I refocused, shook my
head and thought to myself "I haven't eaten today I simply need to get
some sugar and sustenance to balance out.”
My footsteps
slowed as I made my way to the fruit. I would peel a banana and take the
heat for theft. No longer did I know exactly what I was doing. It
seemed slow motion-my thoughts were separated, I couldn't put together words or
meanings and my thinking was, well, missing for lack of a better word. Where
was I going again? I stood there. I could feel my eyes roll into the back
of my head. I grabbed the cold metal edge of a fruit bin. I fought the
rolling of my eyes trying to bring them forward, heightened fear as each second
passed by. What was happening? The lights were bright, brighter
than I'd ever seen. Fuzzy movements were around me, but I couldn't tell
what they were. Logic passed. Light, light, light. Somehow during
the confusion I knew falling on a hard floor was dangerous. I dropped to
my knees. As if kicked in the face, my
body flew back, my head hitting the hard concrete-based tile first before my
body followed. Eyes strained their way
backwards one last time. I could feel the muscles in my body seizing and
my last, final thought was “shit that hurt”.
There is no way
to express how this truly feels. No bodily control. When a seizure comes
on, no matter how much you fight, your body takes over and has a mind of its
own. You know feelings are there, and what will happen but you don't know
how you know since it never happened before. This is called an ‘aural’ state. I
wish that was it--that I woke up and all was well with the world. To be
honest, 'well with the world' has never fully been experienced since then.
I recall being
walked by a small, older Mexican woman and a blonde woman of average height. We
headed to a chair that sat in the Starbucks portion of Target. Gingerly to
wooden chairs in straight backed positions made of inflexible pine around
tables of the same.
Why are
strangers so kind to me? I couldn't remember what had occurred, but here
was this woman rubbing and patting my back and making me feel safe like all was
well. I smiled an insane smile while glancing back and forth at the
two faces. They had this look in their eyes. I had no idea what it meant
at the time. Now I realize it was pity, sympathy, and maybe even fear from
dealing with a stranger flopping around the floor like a fish out of water and
no ability to stop. Instead they watched helplessly and wondered when it
would end.
As we continued
sitting in the Starbucks area, EMT technicians entered the store. Wow, I
thought, someone must have gotten hurt. To my great surprise they walked
up to me. Why me? I had no
idea. I was still sitting, smiling wildly at all passersby, feeling like
royalty with all the attention being offered me not understanding that the
attention was likely morbid curiosity.
An EMT said to
me 'ma'am, are you ok'? I gave him the same stupid stare I was giving
everyone else. Stupid because in one respect I knew what the words meant but
they weren't properly assimilated by my brain. As dumb looks continued to
emanate from my face, the two EMT's explained to me that we were going to the
hospital. I wasn't sick, yet I had no energy to argue. My fully
functioning thought process was not there. So much so, that it didn't
even cross my mind to be concerned.
The Mexican lady
stepped away and an EMT came to either side of me, gently taking my upper arms
and getting me to my feet. I looked at the gurney placed in front of
me. They lay me down, placed a white sheet over me and put two belts
across me; one mid thigh and one below my breastbone. I have to admit
that I childishly thought the ride was fun and grinned. Then fear crossed
my mind as they lifted the gurney into the ambulance. It was dark and
crowded. There were wires and baggies and meds everywhere. Where were
they taking me again? Oh yes, the
hospital I remember someone said this to me.
Fragmented
thoughts flooded my mind, flashes of walking, the feeling of falling, even
further back in the day working and making decisions. Vague flashes of memory
made me feel anxious and my eyes welled with tears. The EMT inside the
truck was a manly woman. She was firm but sweet and I was thankful that
she made me feel comfortable. Suddenly without warning, tears poured
down my face, and shakes took over my body. The type of shakes you have
when you've been in the cold for too long. Teeth shattering, jaw
clenching, hand shaking type of shakes. The EMT patted my hand with her
own rough, meaty hand. I don't know how she managed, but with one hand
patting she slid a needle into my vein above my thumb with her other hand.
With hiccupping sobs I tried to sit up. Panic now set in and the tiny
space of the ambulance was creating hysteria that grew by leaps and
bounds. Every time I had seen someone on
TV react adversely, I rolled my eyes, clucked my tongue and wondered ‘what is
their problem?' Now I reacted in the same manner with no regard to what others
might think of my behavior. I still couldn't form complete thoughts but
fragments flashed in and out. As the EMT continued to pat my hand she eyed my
erratic vitals. I continued to breathe heavily telling myself don't cry, don't
cry, but tears slowly made their way down my cheeks.
The ambulance
pulled into the semi-circle drive at the hospital. I was rolled into a room.
Thankfully the tears subsided and the anxiety, although still present had
reduced enough to be tolerable. After a few minutes a nurse with
beautiful cocoa colored skin and an authoritative presence to counteract her 5
ft body, came in and asked me to assist her to get my clothes off and into a
gown. My favorite part of the experience to this point was a warm cotton
blanket they laid across the bottom half of my legs. I was finally comfortable
and could feel myself relaxing a bit in the safety of the room twice the size
of the ambulance that did not send me to near claustrophobic mania. I no
longer felt disoriented although if I thought more than a couple minutes into
the past or the future, confusion quickly returned. I was exhausted, more
exhausted than I’ve been in a long time.
Fifteen minutes later a professional man with doctor attached to the
left pocket of his green surgical scrubs walked into the room. He had a
clip board, and looked young and handsome. I was thankful the goofy grin
was no longer plastering my face, and looked directly at him waiting for him to
speak. He said 'ma'am, I'm the attending physician today (he included
his name but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what it was). Based on the
witnesses at the store, and the report from the EMT's, you had a grand mal
seizure that lasted approximately four minutes and is considered major.
Have you had one before?' I replied that I had not had one before and wasn’t
sure what one was. Then I lobbed off a group of questions, how did it
happen, will it happen again, what do I do, and on and on they went. How I came
up with questions when I couldn’t recall other events eluded me. Doc
replied 'we don't know why they occur, they happen for any number of reasons,
sudden drug withdrawal, change in brain activity, there at birth, we don't
know.’ I needed something definitive.
I needed to KNOW.
A cat scan was performed and no aneurysm noted - good news.
I stayed a couple more hours, then released. My driver’s license was
restricted and I couldn’t drive for six months. This created more
questions: how would I get to work, how would I go shopping and what would I
do? I'd never considered any of these
questions before and didn’t appreciate having to think of them now. I
phoned my boss and my boss’s boss to get me. Yes, I admit these two men
are the closest thing I have to friends. I'm not social by nature, so
this was it. I am thankful I at least had them. They came to the room to
pick me up, and I had the gall to ask to take one of the blankets with me.
They said yes, and to this day, I enjoy that blanket.
Once home and in bed, I tried to figure out what had transpired.
To date I can’t remember everything that happened. I still wake
up every morning wondering, “Will I have another seizure today? Will I
be in public and just drop down and become a spectacle for others to gawk at?
Or will this be the day that I fall in the wrong direction ending my
life? Will it happen at work and colleagues then see my weakness?”
I found that a prescribed
drug I used, when suddenly stopped, could have this side effect. Said
like some small inconvenience.
I wonder if they realize that it altered my life, my personality and how I
interact. I no longer blithely walk in public but speak silent warnings
the entire time. Don't look directly at lights, stay off tile, be near carpeting,
avoid stairwells, and so on. Outwardly, no one is aware that this
diatribe of cautions flow through the same brain that two months back let me
down.
If I go 48 months without
seizing, odds of my having another seizure equals those that have never had
one, so I count days, weeks, and months, waiting for that 48 and final month to
pass. I fiercely argue going on a drug they want me to use that has side
effects and although it may stop future seizures will alternatively cause other
concerns. So I fight this battle
naturally.
Should I go the doctors’ way, another pill that may be dangerous
but allows me to keep some independence? Seems like a no-brainer; just
take the pills. In fact, if it was pills
that got me here. I’m not willing to let them take me somewhere else. If another seizure comes within four years,
it won’t be my choice, but for now it is, and I choose to fight.
Wow how scary.....
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