It sucks to be me…sometimes.

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February 18, 2015 by unclespike218

One of the things that makes me…uh…unique, is the very annoying and sad neurological condition I harbor.

Specifically, epilepsy. Fortunately, seizures hit me very seldom, and usually they are well-controlled with medication. Unfortunately, when they do hit me, they hit me with a vengeance. They are the huge ones: the grand mal seizures, the tonic-clonic, the ones that render me unconscious while my body spasms wildly for awhile, then collapses. Once I’m done, I’m exhausted. I’ve invariably chewed out my tongue or the side of my mouth. If I fall, I usually hit my head on the floor, resulting in a rip-roaring headache. And I can barely think at all. I often feel like I just got in a wild workout, too.

Two seizures ago took place nearly 10 years ago, which was a blessing…at least, at the time. That was the last one I had for eight years. Then a year and a half ago came the next one…also a humdinger of a seizure, but I recovered at least fairly well. Popular opinion was that my medication levels were suboptimal because of the weight that I had packed on over the years. (Bigger body mass + same medication levels = less medication per…well, you know.) I know it was due to another factor, which for several reasons we won’t discuss. But this time…ugh. Here’s the set-up. I’ve been a bit neglectful in taking my meds, which is never good. Then on top of that came a night out on the town. Although I tried to alternate drinks with water, at some point I lost count. Then we went back to a friend’s place to sleep on the couch. Trouble is, that didn’t take place until about 4 am. I finally got to bed a bit after that. Three hours later, our friend had to leave to take the dog out. When he returned, he had to be buzzed in. That buzzer was obnoxious as hell, but I still answered the door. Went back to bed, and the next thing I know, someone is saying, “Dude, you had a seizure” while I can barely make out anything…sight, hearing, everything. I wake up like three hours later, and we’re getting ready to leave for brunch. My tongue is chewed out like it’s never been before, and I’m utterly listless.

Brunch was a wash. I ordered food, could barely get three bites of scrambled eggs down my throat because my tongue was so sore and swollen, and the rest got taken away. I was useless for the rest of the day. Since then, I’ve improved and my brain is back to normal, but my tongue is taking its own sweet time recovering. It’s been three days, and I’m still relegated to eating the softest of soft foods. Tonight’s repast: pea soup. The past few days: pudding, overcooked pasta, jello salad, ice cream, and the like. Carb central.

So the typical rule applies: I can’t legally drive for at least three months (probably six months this time). Which, when you live about 15 miles out of town, really sucks. It puts a huge damper on my ability to work one-on-one with clients, although it will still be possible. Commuting is just gonna suck is all.

I’m trying to keep a brave face. So far, 2015 has utterly sucked, and my expectation that it would be a very difficult and transitional year has so far been accurate. But I’ve had a great few years; 2011-2014 were awesome years, ones I would gladly go back and relive. I just hope this year will ultimately settle in a comfortable place once it’s done. But for now, life is going to be at least a little difficult. Gonna need all the help I can get.

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