The day was fine, I had a good, lazy day, happy to have completed a project for SPACE, the stuttering charity with whom I volunteer and for whom I sometimes work. The evening, however, was nasty!
I lie on a chaise longue because I have a damaged Achillies tendon in one foot and I can hang it off the edge, and I watch a movie every night. Last night, my restful evening was ruined. I had a seizure that was very physical and long-lasting. It hurt because the muscles that move my arms got a lot of action for 90 minutes during my monster seizure a week ago, and when I seized last night, those muscles were very sore.
When it stopped, I felt as though I’d been sedated, and then all sorts of physical jerking went on for quite a while, and then I had another very physical seizure. I have no idea how long the whole episode was, but it was many, many times longer than my seizures before the monster one last week.
Things in my head:
· The monster seizure began in the dentist chair. I love that chair. I watch TV while she cleans. I was lying down and totally relaxed. Last night’s seizure was while I was totally relaxed on the chaise watching TV.
· I have no control for the entire time. I cannot call for help. This scares me because I once had a cluster migraine that lasted for days. I have no control. I feel like “I” my conscious self, co-exists with an out-of-control monster in my body. Our body. “I” am on the inside feeling like I’m on a roller-coaster, saying, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.”
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I have half an acre here. There was a lot of garbage on the property, and it had little soil and years of forest debris under the trees when I moved in. I fenced my backyard and landscaped half my land with garden beds. I spent a lot of money making my backyard into my own private park.
I read a biography of the first man found not guilty of a crime (murder) by reason of insanity. It’s one of my all-time favourite reads. He is so respected, once understood, he was given a luxury cell, was well visited, and became the largest civilian contributor to the first edition of the Oxford Dictionary.
My garden is the luxury of my cell. And my cell is made of logs.
We have a drought here that can begin in June, but is always here July, August and much of September. During that time, I cannot leave here or most of my plants would die. It takes two hours to hand water it every day. My garden beds cover land under giant Fir trees; the trees ensure all the water is used quickly.
That’s one excuse not to leave Pinecone Park. My treasured pets are another. We don’t like to be apart, and here’s the only place we can all be together. These excuses are my cover. They explain my need to be at home all the time, and that saves me from having to talk about my speech, my anxiety and my seizures.
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On a streaming service I was watching last night, there is an advertisement that triggers me. I know now, when it comes on, to mute the TV and close my eyes.
It features a girl who goes to bad make-up Hell. Hell is depicted for the viewer through imagery that shows us make up fails. One of the images is of a woman in a dentistry-like chair and she’s shaking like she’s having a seizure. I’ve no issue with the advertisement. It’s my problem. But I hate having a severe emotional reaction to the image of her shaking.
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I’ve had challenging psycho-neurological incidents in eight days. I’ve lost my confidence. For the next while, I’m going to be nervous on my chaise, which is my favourite place to be at night.
I have a feeling that I should stop watching movies. Watching movies has triggered, I would estimate, 60%, perhaps even more, of my seizures prior to THE BIG ONE last week. I might be wise to stick to documentaries that don’t involve people being mean to one another.
Yesterday was rough on me. I’m feel that I’m losing a battle I don’t understand. I wake up now and wonder what’s going to happen today. I have eleven prescriptions and a pacemaker. I’m working hard to keep a body alive that is increasingly alien to me.
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Last night, I called Dwight. That’s twice he’s talked me up from the depths to feeling far more functional. He is filling in for Dr. Shoja. I told him that, and he’s okay with it. We’re talking again, today.
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