Tag Archives: Emergency

Driving Me Crazy

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I often find myself bursting at the seams to talk to someone.  It is an occupational hazard, a fact of life. I am a writer, so I need to spend time alone.  I am an epileptic, so I am confined to my home in ways that you can never understand unless you have been ill for a very, very, long time.

Losing my ability to drive has been one of the worst things in my life. I am at home and there’s no one to talk to.  When I do go out and run into the people I used to see, the people I used to know, they ask me, “When will you get your license back?”  It always seems like a polite question…  They don’t mean to be rude, but I want to scream the answer back at them, “NEVER!!” Never.  I will never drive again and if you want to see me you will have to come over here.  I am here alone with my family.

The next question I get is, “When was the last time you had a seizure?”  My answer always shocks them, “Last week, two weeks ago, I can’t remember.”  It was hopefully not sooner.  I try to stay home in the days after a seizure.  They cluster together.  I hate for people to see me seize.  It’s not a pretty thing.  And I hate to end up in the ER.  Strangers do that.  My family knows better.  I need to take my meds and go to bed.  It’s just my life.  And I will never drive again.  I gave up that hope years ago.

Occasionally my husband wants me to move the car from one side of the street to the other.  It was a Monday morning and if we didn’t move the car we would get ticketed.  I couldn’t.  I can’t.  It’s all or nothing: nothing is the only answer.  My husband agrees but every now and then he doesn’t want to get out of bed.  We both wish I could move the car.  I can physcally drive. I was an excellent driver.  But I can’t.  There are no rules to seizures.  It only takes one second and then I’ve crashed my car into the tree in front of my house.  Or a kid walking past the park….  No. I do not want to take that risk.  I cut that part out of me and burnt it when I turned in my driver’s license, the second time.

I don’t drive not because it’s the law, but because I love my family too much.  I don’t want to lose time and lose control of a ton of metal and flammable liquids.  I can’t.  I can’t. I want to.  Some days I want it so badly I can feel the wind in my hair and the smell of grapes in the air in September.  I tell myself it’s not the full moon, I’m not tired, I’m not whatever it is that might trigger a seizure today.  I see myself walking to the car, turning the key and driving away into the sunset.  It’s such a pretty dream. It will never be.

I’m never going to stop having seizures and even if I do, there is no amount of time that will pass that will guarantee that I will not have another one, at any given moment.  I know that in my bones, in my synapses that like to burst with energy and electricity.  Driving isn’t safe for me and it’s not safe for you either.  You should thank me that I value *your* life enough not to drive.

I beg you, please don’t text and drive. I gave up driving for safety’s sake.  You can give up your phone for safety’s sake.  You don’t even have to give up your phone.  Please, just put it down when you are in the car.  It only takes one second to crash a car.  My epilepsy is genetic, yours could be because of a traumatic brain injury you receive when you crash your car because you were texting while driving.

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Blood or Bone

keep calm

May I please be explicit: I do not want to go to the hospital due to one, two, three, four, or possibly even more seizures.  Unless I am bleeding or you see bone, please leave me alone.  2000% alone.  If I am unconscious, leave me that way.  If I am still breathing, I am trapped away and I want to be.  I’ll be back soon.  Please do not touch me.  Please Do Not Call 911.  Seizures are not emergencies for me.

Trying to understand what someone is saying to you during and after a seizure is impossible.  It takes too much effort.  It hurts.  I do not want to answer questions about my seizures or anything.  I do not want to be conscious at all.  My body wants to be unconscious for days afterwards.  It needs to be too.  My brain is mush and cannot stay focused.  I want to be home alone in bed, and never in a hospital bed.  I won’t know how old I am when you ask me, and not even what year it is too.  I know who I am when I am me, but who am I when I’m not me?  I don’t want to go to the hospital to find out.  Eventually I know what year it is and the month too.  It just takes me some time.

This isn’t my first rodeo.  This isn’t my hundredth seizure.  I am more aware of my epilepsy and seizures that anyone in the ER.  And I can’t tell them anything.  Don’t call 911 just because I have a seizure.  I don’t want to go to the hospital.  It is unnecessary and terrifying too.  There is no net gain.  We know what we know and we know what we don’t know.  It never changes.  I always want to be at home instead of an ER.

Blood or bone.  Otherwise please leave me alone.  You can prop me up and make sure I don’t fall over but please don’t ask me questions.  Don’t hold me down.  I know it looks scary.  It’s not that big of a thing for me to zap out  every now and again.  Sometimes you seize the day, sometimes the day seizes you.  That’s epilepsy.

Don’t make me go to the ER.  It is too painful.  I can’t have every seizure be an emergency.  After a seizure all I want for days is sleep.  Leave me alone.  If I am drooling on myself, you can wipe my face, otherwise don’t touch me.  Don’t talk to me.  Don’t shine lights on me.  I WANT to be unconscious.  My brain has just shorted out, I need to sleep it off.  Epilepsy is everyday for me.

If you just wait a while I will come around.  My kids and husband don’t bat an eye, they know to put me to bed.  This is my life.  I can’t count how many ER doctors have diagnosed me with epilepsy.  Why are you telling me this again?  I’ve been living in this world of semi-unconsciousness for decades.  I probably know more about seizures than you do, I just can’t answer questions right now.  Soon I will tell you everything and maybe I could teach you something new.  Don’t you think I know what to do in the case of a seizure??  I read all the literature.  I write that literature too.  Can I go home now??

Please do not take me to the hospital over a seizure or two.  I promise I will be back in twenty minutes or an hour or two.  Let my husband decide if it’s a real emergency.  Wait until he gets here.  He will know if it’s a normal bad seizure day or not.  He knows who I am when I am not me.  I am not a normal person, but this normal for me.  I already know that.  Don’t make me wait for another ER doctor to tell me.  I know.

It hurts too much to speak.  If I am not dead, I’m alive!  This happens literally all of the time.  It’s my super-power, back from the brink of death again and again.  If I am breathing and not bleeding please do not touch me.  Wait until I am conscious to take me away. I will tell you if I am having a gallbladder attack or a real emergency.  If I just had a seizure and that’s it, that’s it!  That is my life.  Going to the ER only hurts me.  I am broken in two.  It was the hospital visit, not this seizure or two.

Epilepsy is a painful inconvenience for my family.  But it is simply our life.  It is scary to see, I’m told.  But once you know what it looks like it’s boring, everyday, common-sauce.  I’ll come around soon enough.  Keep calm.  It’s just a seizure.  Ask my children, ask my husband, they will tell you.  Just leave me alone and wait.  My brain just does this.  The ER doctors know they don’t really know anything about epilepsy.  They will tell me to take my seizure meds and get some sleep.  See a specialist, too.  I already do.

Please don’t talk to me and make me answer questions about my medical history.  Just wait and see what happens in an hour or so.  I have talked to many doctors about my seizures.  I promise you, you will not tell me anything new.  And I don’t want to talk about it right now.  All I want, all I need, is some peace and quiet.  The bright lights and endless noises are like an assault.  And I speak from experience there too.  Every time I wake up and don’t know where I am is another scar.

I have seizures.  Don’t get freaked out.  I’ll be back up soon.  Please don’t hold me down.  Just leave me alone.  If I am confused and stumble, hold me up instead.  I gave my children those instructions long ago: when Mom is out of her head, put her to bed.  They were offended.  They already knew.  That’s the ultimate end of every hellish seizure related ER visit to date.  Go to bed.  I already know I have seizures.  My children know.  I just need to sleep now.  Please.  Dear God!  I WANT to be unconscious.  It is good for me.  Everything hurts.  Don’t make me try to explain it to someone new.

Do you know how scary it is to wake up in a hospital and be told nothing new?  I live this way.  Welcome to my regularly scheduled life!  I’ll be back soon.  We can have an eloquent conversation about my seizures then.  Right now anyone who touches me is a motherfucking asshole.  May I sincerely apologize to everyone I may have yelled profanities at.  When I am conscious, nurses and paramedics are my real life heroes.  They are my worst enemy after I’ve had a seizure or two.  Don’t waste your time on me over a seizure or three.  I’m going to be fine and please fucking don’t touch me.  Don’t poke the bear.  It hurts me to open my eyes and my mouth.  My words won’t come out right.  I can only scream.  I am trapped inside my brain.  My brain does this all of time.  I know the risk.  I know the treatment.  I know how scary it is to wake up in the ER for no reason, over and over again.  I know that nightmare too well.  I have nightmares about it.  I would like to never have to do that again.  I don’t need another fresh-faced ER doctor tell me I have epilepsy and give me a one page flier about seizures.  I know.  I fucking know.

I am well-aware of the risks.  I do not want to go to the ER unless I am not breathing or bleeding or you see bone.  A little mouth blood is de rigueur, you can wipe that off and let me be.  If you find me at bleeding and broken at the bottom of the stairs then call the paramedics and please try explain to them that I will be more than a little confused and angry when I start to get back into my conscious head.  If I am just drooling, let me be.

I will come around soon enough.  Please don’t make me wake up in a CAT-scan or MRI tube ever again.  It. is. horrifying.  The noise physically hurts.  They were yelling at me to stay still this time.  I woke up crying from the sound.  My brain can’t process things right now, but I am used to that.  It just takes a little while.  It is my brain and I am used to this shit.  My cognitive processing will come back again.  This was just a little, typical, electrical blip.  I don’t want to go to the ER just because I am unconscious.  I’ll be better soon.

They will not help me there, not just for a seizure.  That’s what the doctors always tell me in an hour or two.  If you have never had a seizure, call 911 right away.  But I’ve had a few hundred and I know what is a medical emergency for me.  I don’t want to waste your time or services or medical expenses.  I do not want tests.  I. want. to. sleep.  I’ll feel better soon.  Please don’t touch me.  I am confused and everything frightens me. I have already read all the books on epilepsy.  If I have a seizure, let me be.  Let me sleep.

Give me a few hours of unconsciousness and skip the dangers of seizures lecture, too.  I am well aware of my unawareness and the usual pattern of unraveling and spiraling back up again.  There is a pattern, I know it oh too well.  I want to call my doctor, so we can have the same talk again.  Take your meds and get plenty of rest.  That is what I was trying to do.  Can you see how the bright lights and hospital sounds could only make this worse?   Ambulances are an epileptic’s biggest nightmare.  I promise this is my normal brain, ain’t it weird?  Leave me alone.  My brain needs a little time to reset.

Epilepsy is a bitch.  But she’s my bitch.  This is just my life.  Ask my husband, ask my children, read my book.  Seizures are scary but they are not always an emergency.  Not for me.  Sorry to give you all a big scare.  I didn’t want to waste your time.  It’s not scary for me unless the paramedics are involved.  They don’t need to be.  This is just the brain I have and I don’t need to go to the hospital.

Stay Calm and Wait Twenty Minutes.  Do. Not. Call. 911.  Even if you are really, really, scared.  Just Wait.  Give me some time to come around.  I will.

Weird, huh?

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Blood Moon Super Moon

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I’ve had epilepsy for my entire life.  Although, I didn’t know until I was in college.  It was quite the surprise to say the least.  I’ve known for nearly 20 years now.  Every seizure still takes me by surprise.   I can’t predict when I will have a seizure.  But right now would be a good guess.  I’ve been keeping track of my seizures for at least six or seven years.  The pattern is undeniable.  I don’t know why.  I just know that the full moon is a particularly seizure-y time of the month.

Now it’s the Supermoon and an eclipse to boot.  I am terrified of what might happen when the moon goes dark and turns red.  I am not like normal people.  I am a werewolf.  I howl at the moon.  Uncontrollably.  I don’t know now what it sounds like, you would have to ask my family.  I’m an unconscious werewolf.  My son did say that it sounded like I was barking once.

I wish I understood what it was about the full and waning moon that triggers electrical brainstorms.  My brain ebbs and flows with the tides.  I am eternally tied to the phases of the moon.  The moon is full and my brain buzzes with too much electricity.  I am concerned with flashing lights and upsetting music.  My brain needs to be insulated from my other triggers.  Get lots of sleep, stay close to bed.  Don’t get dehydrated.  Don’t go to Wine Fest Weekend.  Don’t get upset.

My worst seizure cluster occurred the night a friend of mine died.  I was too upset, my brain couldn’t take it.  It shorted out.  It was only a few days before the Full Moon.  Perigee is a scary thing.  When the moon is so close, it is so beautiful, so deadly.

Doctors and nurses, paramedics and police officers will tell you.  The Full Moon makes people do weird things.  We are 70% water, we are ruled by the gravitational forces of nature.  The moon will turn red.  My family is just hoping I make it through to the other side.  I hope it’s not a bad one this month.  I don’t want to bleed with the blood moon.  I already bit my cheek.  My mouth often takes the brunt of my seizures.  My teeth clasp and whenever I taste blood I suspect I’ve had a seizure.  They can happen so fast, faster than anyone can know.  Blood is bad sign.

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No Common Sense For The Commonwealth

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I have long been a silent supporter for medical marijuana.  But I was afraid to really speak out.  I was a Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” kid.  Would the moms shun me at the school if they knew?  It was safer to stay silent.  So what happened?  Charlotte Figi happened.  When Charlotte’s Web hit the news I cried.  I was so happy to see this beautiful little girl reclaiming a life that she almost lost due to seizures.  I was so happy for her and her family.  And then I cried for my children… They have to live with a mommy who sometimes screams and falls down.  That is the worst effect of my epilepsy: my kids have to see me have a seizure.  If you’ve seen a seizure you know, it’s pretty much the worst thing in the world.  If you haven’t, lucky you.  I hope you never do.  Unless you work in Harrisburg or DC: I would love to have a seizure in front of you.  You will be rightfully frightened.  Seizures change everything.

Parents in Colorado and New Jersey and Pennsylvania are fighting to get their children marijuana.  How could I stay silent?  It IS a matter of life and death.  Seizures kill.  Epilepsy is a terrible disease that holds us in a cold grasp until we die. People die from seizures and seizure related injuries everyday.  Over 50,000 Americans lose their life every year.  For me it’s all about seizures, everything in my life is about seizures.

Medical marijuana can SAVE lives.  The Epilepsy Foundation supports medical marijuana.  The nation’s largest epilepsy organization is advocating for marijuana.  That’s huge!  The seizure preventing effects are visible and undeniable.  ALL epileptics need access to this natural medicine that is recommend by Surgeon General nominee Sanjay Gupta and my personal doctors.  I’d like it if Pennsylvania would allow me that courtesy.  23 other states would.  I’m tired of my government treating me like a criminal.  I’m not a bad person.  I just want to have less seizures.  I want to stay conscious at ALL times.

The Pennsylvania Government denies that there is any valid information in the hundreds of studies not done in Pennsylvania.  All the scientific literature does not matter to them.  They insist that they would have to re-do the studies here.  But they won’t do the studies.  Science doesn’t matter to them.  The fact that the federal government has a patent on cannabis (Patent #6630507) means nothing to my so called Representatives.

I read the studies.  The information is there for the taking.  The internet grants us immediate access to governmental documents and scientific journals.  I am convinced.   Marijuana has been known for CENTURIES as a treatment for epilepsy.  Why should I suffer for being born in the wrong century and state?  I just want to be able to grow a plant and stay conscious.  Marijuana can help.  There is anecdotal evidence.  There is scientific evidence.  I’ve had too many seizures to just sit by and wait for Pennsylvania to grow up.  For years I suffered in silence.  I felt so alone in my unstable state of consciousness.  I thought that nobody understood me until I met other people living with epilepsy.  I need to educate the world about my deadly, deadly disease.

I was diagnosed with Temporal Lobe Epilepsy was in 1997.  I was 20.  I went to bed with a headache and woke up in the hospital, talking to my mother on the phone.  She asked me where I was.  I didn’t know.  I had no idea why I was on a phone.  The last I knew I was sleeping.  I could not believe that I had a seizure and was in the hospital brought by ambulance.  It was the first time, but not the last.

They kept asking me what kind of drugs I was on.  That made no sense.  I don’t take drugs. I had taken a biology exam and came home to sleep.  They tested me.  No drugs.  I was confused and angry.  I had another seizure coming out of the bathroom holding the warm container of my own urine.  I don’t remember much else.  Days later I saw a Doctor.  I can’t remember his name, he was just the first of dozens.  He told me I had Idiopathic Temporal Lobe Epilepsy.  It was a diagnosis that I could barely understand despite my years of college anatomy and physiology.  He also said Seizure Disorder but I liked that term even less.

I understood I had a seizure or I was trying to understand that. But I didn’t really believe it.  And I certainly didn’t believe that just because I had one seizure meant that I was going to have another.  I was wrong.  Poor Past Katie, she was so wrong.  That wasn’t my first seizure.  It was just the first time somebody saw me have a seizure.  Over time, as I learned more about my seizures, I realized I had hundreds of un-diagnosed seizures.  I have had seizures my whole life.  I will have them for the rest of my life.  Hopefully they won’t kill me.  I think that every day.

My diagnosis  has not changed over the years.  It’s still Idiopathic (Unknown cause) Temporal Lobe (part of the brain on the side, controls memory and emotions and so much more) Epilepsy (lots and lots of uncontrolled burst of electricity in my brain.)  There is still no reason, no cause, no warning when a seizure might happen.  My brain has too much electricity.  Yee-Haw!  It’s a rodeo!

I’ve gone years without seizures.  Ah, the good years; the sweet seizure-free years.  The longest I went without a Grand Mal (a massive, convulsive, secondarily-generalized seizure) was seven glorious years.  Now I am happy for seven days sometimes.  It’s been 14 days today.  I am finally feeling normal again.  My body has more or less physically healed from the last seizure.  The depression has lifted.  But who knows for how long?

This year the record is 42 days seizure-free.  Then I ended up in the hospital with gallbladder disease and had a cluster of seizures in June. They played fast and loose with my seizures in the hospital.  They gave me so many different injections and bags of saline and radioactive isotopes.  I don’t know what they gave me.  I had a seizure in the bathroom.  I bit my tongue and bled all over myself.  I wandered the halls and looked for my husband whom I had sent home.  I couldn’t remember doing that.  I was dazed and confused: lost in the hazy aftermath of a seizure.  At least I didn’t fall out of bed that time.  I woke up covered in blood and vomit and had no idea why.  Nobody in the hospital knew.  They don’t know how to treat me.  There is no way to treat me after a seizure.  All I can do is sleep and wait for my brain to reboot.  Seizures are exhausting, for days, for weeks at a time.  It’s not just the half hour that I lost, it’s everything that comes after.  My most recent seizure brought me a bruised rib.  But I didn’t fall down the stairs!  I fell into the banister instead.

I would try any plant that could help.  I’ve tried all sorts of minerals and supplements that I found referenced in the medical texts as a treatment for epilepsy.  Marijuana comes up again and again.  There is enough evidence for me and 85% of Pennsylvanians.  But I don’t have safe access to the strains that are curing epilepsy.  Charlotte’s web isn’t available in Pennsylvania.  The variety matters.  Think of marijuana like peppers.  You wouldn’t say that an Orange Sweet Bell Pepper was the same as a Ghost Pepper.  Jalapenos aren’t the same as Banana Peppers.  They are all different strains of the same plant.  Plants are like that.  When you are in a state with marijuana prohibition, there is no choice but one: whichever one your Dude has at that point in time, which changes all of the time.  Nobody else wants to consume marijuana that won’t even get you high. Children in Colorado are allowed to but I’m not.

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania doesn’t trust me to live my adult life and make decisions about my body by myself with the advice of my doctor.  More than one doctor would prescribe me marijuana if they could.  I have been told more than once.  Neurologists talk about it with me at length.  We are all hopeful for “new” treatments.  But I am in the wrong state for that.

Is Pennsylvania part of the United States or not?  Nearly half the country would allow me medical marijuana.  It’s as free and clear as beer in Colorado and Washington.  But not Pennsylvania.  I am stuck here in the prohibition years.  No medicinal plants for me.  My seizures don’t matter to the legislators of Pennsylvania.

Seizures are being prevented. How can you allow us to go without treatment?  It is a cruel and unusual punishment.  

And that’s why they call us Pennsyltucky.

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72 Hours

SuicidePrevention

Twice I played an active role in admitting a person to the hospital under a 72 hour watch. Both were voluntarily involuntary. Each time I asked them if they could guarantee me their safety and they could not. Body mutilation is not okay. It is not, not suicide. If you can’t tell me you won’t cut yourself, then you need a few hours away from knives and guns and pills and belts.

I both regretted it and did not regret it at the time. It felt heartless to send them away to be alone in a green room. They are both still alive though, and that’s something. Maybe they wouldn’t have hurt themselves, but we don’t have to know. We don’t have to miss them the way we miss Robin Williams and my cousin Haley. Suicide is 100% preventable. It’s the only cause of death that is.

The first person I admitted was a young girl at the youth shelter I worked at. She was agitated and crying and had cut herself more than once in the past. I asked her straight out, “Are you at risk of harming yourself or anybody else?” She couldn’t guarantee me that she wouldn’t cut herself. I took her to the mental hospital that night. I don’t mess around.

The second time it was my close friend who had just lost her father. She had told me, on more than one occasion, that she would probably need to be hospitalized when her father died. You don’t say that if you don’t mean it. She also told me, more than once, that being hospitalized after the death of her mother was the only thing that kept her alive then. I wasn’t going to let her stay home. She told me too many time, she was too upset. She could not 100% guarantee me that she would not hurt herself. I reminded her of what she told me, how Haldol saved her life. I made her get into the ambulance and leave.

After she left, we went through everything. It was a huge invasion of her privacy. At first I just wanted to wash the dirty dishes and clean the bed, but soon it became apparent that more needed to be done. I had to check everything. I don’t regret checking. Her arms were covered in fresh wounds. There were razor blades in her fucking bed. We took all the knives and her father’s meds. Her father was dead, he didn’t need them anymore.

I regret that she had to spend the night her father died alone, in a hospital, surrounded by people suspicious of her. She wouldn’t visit me when I went the next day. But I don’t have to regret that she is dead because she is alive. And that’s enough for me.

Suicide isn’t something that you want to do forever. It just happens at a peak, at a time of crisis. If you can survive that crisis time, you can survive. The idea of suicide will go away. It’s not always with you. But you have to get past that crisis. If you can keep a person safe for 72 hours, you might just save a life. I hope I did. Twice. Maybe three times.

One other time I recommended a 72 hour hospitalization for my friend. I could feel the mania radiating off of him. He was a different person. I told his loved ones they needed to send him, he wasn’t safe. I wasn’t there when it happened, but when the time came, he went voluntarily involuntary. He is also still alive. He is not suffering from a raging, manic phase. I don’t know how any of these people feel about my role in their hospitalizations. Perhaps they resent me for it. I don’t care. They are all alive to resent me.

I’m watching clips of Robin Williams on YouTube. I can see the pain hidden behind his eyes. I know his pain. I too suffer from depression. Its cold hard grasp keeps me tight despite Academy Awards and Golden Globes. None of that matters. Not a loving family and warm bed to sleep in at night. Depression doesn’t care at all. It can happen to anybody.

And if you can’t guarantee me that you will not hurt yourself in any way, then I’m going to take you to the hospital where they can.

RIP Robin, Haley, Sarah, and all the victims of suicide. The world needed you.

If you are considering suicide,

Please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Call 24/7

1-800-273-8255

The world needs you

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Katie’s Ladder

buena vista

There are times when I can feel the electricity rise in me, when all I can think is: GET DOWN!  I can’t fall if I am already on the ground.  I’ve used this technique with much success several times at home.  Thankfully, I haven’t had to do it when I was out in public!  But I have promised myself, if I ever feel a seizure coming on, I am going to lie down.  I don’t care if I look like a fool, I am getting low quick.  Falling is a big cause of death in epileptics.  There are over 50,000 deaths a year attributed to seizures and seizure related accidents.  I knew of someone who had a seizure and fell off of a ladder.  He did not survive.

So, I don’t climb on ladders.  Since the very day I heard his tragic story, I have not climbed a ladder.   It is such a silly little thing to say, “I never climb a ladder.”  I don’t think people take me seriously when I tell them.  But I do not.  Ever.  It’s not safe for me, one second here, one second gone.  It’s not worth my life.  Finding yourself on the floor is never a good time.  My great uncle fell off a stage and died.  Falling is my biggest nightmare.  It jerks me out of sleep every time.  It is the kind of nightmare that you can’t fall back asleep after because it scared you so much.  So, ladders are right out.  I don’t use step stools either.  I’m short.  It is a problem sometimes.

Now my kids are old enough that they can use the step stool to fetch stuff for me.  I feel bad that they have to help me.  I wish that my kids had the luxury of growing up without a sick mom.  I know it’s a burden on them, I can see it.  It’s a lot to handle to know that your mom might not respond.  But that’s okay; it’s just something that happens sometimes.  Just chill out and wait until it passes.   They know when to call 911 and when not too.  Usually it’s not too.  There’s nothing to be done.  Thankfully I don’t need to go to the ER with every seizure.  What a pain that would be!  They would be so sick of the sight of my face in the ER.  I’m not pleasant after a seizure.  I am usually rather angry and confused.  The term “dazed and confused” more accurately describes a seizure than a stoner!

A seizure is not necessarily an emergency.  It is just part of my life.  Unless I fall and hurt myself or the seizure last more than 5 minutes, I don’t need to be seen in the ER.  Ask any neurologist.  Sometimes my brain has too much electricty and it shorts out.  There’s no reason, and there’s nothing to be done.  I have come to a dull acceptance of that.  It still cuts like a butter knife.  But what else is there to do?

For a long time I was angry.  I denied it but I keep having seizures.  Finally, I could not lie to myself anymore.  When I realized that, my life changed.  That is why I now get on the ground when I feel a seizure coming on.  I do not drive.  I do not stand on ladders.  I do not bathe when nobody is home.  I take my miserable meds, every damned day.  It’s just what a responsible epileptic does.  And I guess that’s who I am.  It was hard to accept.  It was a battle.  It was bloody, as  having a seizure certainly can be.  (Usually it’s my tongue.)  But I’ve accepted it.  I still reach for the stars.  Even I can’t use the ladder.

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