More and more seizures plague me. I cancelled my deck date with my new neighbours because I don’t want to have a seizure in front of people I barely know. I’m Zooming this morning with my stuttering group and I’ve forewarned the co-ordinator that I might suddenly disappear. I plan to turn off my video if I’m hit with a seizure. They make my speech problem seem insignificant.
I’ll be warning my fellow dog walkers tomorrow and alerting my dentist at an upcoming cleaning. Forewarning seems to me to be the best practice to avoid people calling 911 and overreacting. I don’t change my medications for a month; I hope the change stops this sudden wave of seizures that began last week.
Is it a coincidence that my nightmares have stopped? Is anxiety like an animal searching for a way to escape the confines of my brain? Has my brain found that seizures are a more efficient or effective way of escaping than nightmares? I struggle to make sense of what goes on in my head.
It’s brilliant and clear this morning. I had a spa under the stars (and my first seizure of the day). The spa is a lovely way to start my day—a day I’ll spend outdoors as much as I can as well as doing some reading, anxious to help time pass quickly so that I can enjoy Prime Suspect and All Creatures Great & Small this evening from the couch.
It’s light at seven-thirty now, not eight; the increasing daylight, my blooming Fuchsia and Snowdrops, plus the fresh green leaves on everything make it seem as though Springtime is imminent and that makes me quietly rejoice.