I came to consciousness on the floor Sunday. I’m not sure how long it took me to figure out what was going on. Everything was hazy. It felt like I was coming out of a deep dream. I couldn’t remember what had happened. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. It felt like I had been listening to someone talk underwater. All I really knew was that I was sitting in a pile of clothes, on the floor. Being on the floor is usually a huge clue that something went wrong. It’s an ominous sign that I’ve had a seizure. I don’t generally lie on the floor. But I needed someone else to confirm it. My brain just shorted out. When you don’t remember, you don’t remember… I never remember. It wasn’t so bad this time. I guess. You learn to live with it. Seizures are a part of my daily life. I didn’t bite my tongue or injure myself. I feel cloudy but not in pain. I’m just so tired. I’ll need to sleep it off for several days. I’ll be in a deeply gray mood for longer than I can tell. It takes a lot out of me, my brain who hates me. I’m so glad that so many epileptics are creative. What a price to pay!
I remember parts of it now. The last thing I remember is the beginning of a simple partial seizure, what some people would call an aura, or déjà vu. It swells within me, a sick feeling. I went in the other room to take my medicine. It was the morning, I hadn’t missed my meds. It was the normal time I take them. I was following the rules. There was no water; I felt myself losing molecular stability. I thought I should lie down in case I had another, progressively worse seizure. I think I chose the floor. My body doesn’t hurt like I fell. There was a pile of blankets on the floor. I believe I decided to aim for the floor before I ended up there anyway. I remember that didn’t want to get into bed only to fall out. Then— confusion. I have no idea how much time I lost. I “woke up” nauseous and gagging. My husband reports the rest, the screaming and the things I said and did while I was out of it. I certainly don’t remember screaming. I don’t really feel too bad considering. I didn’t bite the hell out of my tongue. That is always a win. I had a seizure, but not a convulsion. Those are the worst. This was just medium terrible.
I’m trying really hard to write, to capture it while it’s still freshly confusing. It’s very hard to write. It’s very hard to think. My brain is tired. The thunderstorm is over but the thick gray clouds remain. I cannot do much of anything for many days after having a seizure. I don’t want to. My son had a soccer game but I stayed home. I wasn’t about to go out and have another seizure in the middle of a 7-8 year old soccer league. I hope that I did not have one while the rest of my family was gone, but I don’t know. I can never tell really when I’m “Gone Again.” So, that’s why I don’t drive, even though I desperately want to. There are no rules to seizures. I am a hazard to myself. I have to choose the floor some days. It’s not going to come crashing up to meet me if I’m already there. Sitting down isn’t enough. I gave myself a concussion once when I sat down and then I promptly fell out of the chair face first. I’ve fallen out of bed many, many times. Falling is, in fact, one of my worst fears. Is that any surprise?
May the road not rise up to meet me, but stay very, very, far away, on the ground where it belongs!