It’s Sunday night and there’s a neighbourhood party going on just down the street. Friends, good friends, came by to ask me to join them, to come to the party. I could barely speak with them. That’s why I didn’t go to the party. The seizure was a tough one. And having a particularly bad one in public leaves me in a bad emotional state afterwards. I see people looking at me, and that really freaks me out. I feel like a freak.
Saturday night I had to take a prescription I have that puts me to sleep. Sunday, I wanted to be alone. I want to be along today as well. I believe that if I stay isolated, my speech will improve. I can’t remember having such severe speech distress for years ago. Kevin brought over some treats from the party, and I could barely get words out to him. I’m particularly fond of Kev. I love the guy, and it hurt not to be able to say the nice things I wanted to say to him for bringing me treats from the block party.
I couldn’t speak to Alison and Peter when they came by. I consider this a ‘flair up’ of my condition. I’ll being taking life a day-at-a-time for the time being. I wish I could express what I feel, but I can’t. Describing a feeling is like trying to explain a colour. It’s beyond me to reveal the force that overtakes me. I feel intensely something. I must stay home.
Having five people in the house is, I’m sure, the reason for this sudden plague of symptoms. I felt very uncomfortable a great deal of the time. That’s why I wanted to play games so much of the time. It took me into a small group. Only four could play.
I am hurting right now (Sunday night). I feel raw and vulnerable. I lie about like someone overdosed, having neither energy nor desire. I can barely communicate with neighbours. I’m normally fluent with them. I feel locked out of living I want this occupation of my body and self to end. That’s all I think about. I want this to end. I’ll see how things go for a while, but if I get stuck in a life like I’m living right now, I’ll call Dr. Shoja. She always makes things better.
Now it’s Monday morning. Diane came by at 7:00 to collect some long grass for her horses and I could barely speak to her. I was hoping that a good sleep would have me back to ‘normal’ today, but I guess that it’s going to take longer than one night to get back to where I was before. This is depressing.
Lydia and David are coming back next month with Gene, their son, and Sydney, his partner. I’ve been wondering if I should go ahead with their visit and decided that I should. I can’t hide from people or FND ‘wins.’ During my walk with my fellow dog walkers, I sensed some improvement. I could speak with great difficulty, but I could speak words and phrases. I think it’s going to take a while to get back to where I was, but I’m sure I will.