Yesterday I had a seizure. A family member had mentioned to me in the afternoon that somebody in their sixties had died from COVID. COVID always makes me fearful, and other COVID-based mentions had brought up seizures in the past, so I usually meditated when it came up in a conversation. But it was too early for sunset, so I didn’t think I needed that – all my attacks had happened at night with lamps lit, as light had acted as a trigger. Then, a friend from Argentina wanted to talk on Whatsapp, and my younger brother called me while we were chatting. I felt really tired and had a very hard time putting a sentence together. My brother noticed it and said he’d call me the next day. I protested, but I was feeling very tired, so I let him sign off. And then it happened.
The seizure really caught me by surprise and scared the heck out of me. I called Eric and told him what was going on, and he came in a flash. He told me to breathe deeply and slowly, and my body gradually quieted after a minute or so. My eyes teared up out of sheer frustration. I’d been counting down the days until August 11th – the day when three months would have passed since my last seizure. It would have been the longest lapse without one. I was envisioning the next stage of my weaning myself of Kepra (with my neurologist’s approval and guidance, of course), and thinking if my next resumption of work I (despite Eric’s disapproval, of course). I was so proud of myself! And here I was, proving myself wrong. The countdown was interrupted when it was almost over.
And that’s for starters. Then you’d have to add that, regarding the use of left my hand and leg, progress is so slow, I feel that time crawls. I’ll probably sound like a broken record, but I wish I could have normal use of my limbs; I wish I sounded like a native when I spoke; I wish I didn’t have to take anti-seizure meds or meditate; I wish I didn’t have to wake up and do exercises every single day; I wish, I wish, I wish…
If I want to be happier, I need to focus on the minute improvements on my walking or moving my arm and hand; or stop being overly demanding. Eric must be tired of saying, “Stop beating yourself up, Judy.” The days I wake up rested and in a good mood (the bright, sunny days and after a good night of sleep), I can look at my small progresses as the sign I’ve made a major one. But these are rare. Maybe time will start flying; or maybe I’ll stop beating myself up.
The seizure really caught me by surprise and scared the heck out of me. I called Eric and told him what was going on, and he came in a flash. He told me to breathe deeply and slowly, and my body gradually quieted after a minute or so. My eyes teared up out of sheer frustration. I’d been counting down the days until August 11th – the day when three months would have passed since my last seizure. It would have been the longest lapse without one. I was envisioning the next stage of my weaning myself of Kepra (with my neurologist’s approval and guidance, of course), and thinking if my next resumption of work I (despite Eric’s disapproval, of course). I was so proud of myself! And here I was, proving myself wrong. The countdown was interrupted when it was almost over.
And that’s for starters. Then you’d have to add that, regarding the use of left my hand and leg, progress is so slow, I feel that time crawls. I’ll probably sound like a broken record, but I wish I could have normal use of my limbs; I wish I sounded like a native when I spoke; I wish I didn’t have to take anti-seizure meds or meditate; I wish I didn’t have to wake up and do exercises every single day; I wish, I wish, I wish…
If I want to be happier, I need to focus on the minute improvements on my walking or moving my arm and hand; or stop being overly demanding. Eric must be tired of saying, “Stop beating yourself up, Judy.” The days I wake up rested and in a good mood (the bright, sunny days and after a good night of sleep), I can look at my small progresses as the sign I’ve made a major one. But these are rare. Maybe time will start flying; or maybe I’ll stop beating myself up.
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