Brace Yourself and Drop it Down

"We must learn to be content as we are." - Downtown Abbey

Tuesday night, at some point in the evening, I had a very large seizure. It was, quite possibly, one of the most frightening seizures yet, even though I was unconscious during the episode, and Thomas didn't note anything astonishingly different about it. It was the aftermath of the seizure that presented both familiar (and horrible) and new post-seizure symptoms. Because my body contorted in such a way during the seizure, my wrist was pinned to the wall and bent back for the duration; I believe it's just a sprain, but because it hurts like a MF'er, I'm all braced up.

I'm so freaking sexy. 

But what was way worse, and of alarming note, was the saliva. So, so, SO, much saliva. During the seizure, Thomas said I drooled to the point that he needed to move me, even though seizure first aid suggests you don't move someone during a seizure episode, so I didn't self-aphixiate. In fact, we had to wash all the sheets because of the seizure, which is super fun to do at night. Immediately after the seizure, I couldn't swallow my saliva fast enough, so I had to spit out the extra saliva into an empty bottle of apple juice, which is super attractive.

The post-seizure episode enabled the excessive salivation to persist, even into wednesday and today. I believe that I had a post-ictal seizure, which seem to be known for excessive salivation, along with the other cognitive issues I dealt with throughout the episode and in the post-seizure phase (like loss of focus, zoning out, not being able to articulate/access thoughts, etc).While the salivation grew less intense (as I don't need to carry a spit cup anymore), I'm still finding myself having (to this moment) to constantly swallow, which is worsened by the open sore on my tongue (which I bit during the seizure).  Eventually, I fell asleep, after oscillating between considering going to the ER and subsequently convincing myself not to. 

After a day of enormous shifts in cognitive functioning and mood on Wednesday, consistent with working my way out of a post-ictal seizure, I spent the day coming in and out of headache induced absence seizures. But, I thought conditions were improving. I had the luxury of being able to rest at home, and not climb up the streets of Poughkeepsie to get to work. I even made contact, and an emergency appointment, with my new neurologist the "Seizure Specialist". I took all of these as positive signs of progress, and that was my first mistake. 

That's the thing about a seizure disorder; with every step forward, you can take a few steps back. The balance of life can always be off balance, and that's a great way to describe my day today. I woke up at 6:30 a.m. with an aggressive migraine, and was overcome with fear about what would happen because of it, as my seizures are triggered by migraines. Hence, I took my doctor up on her offer of extending my note out of work until I felt back to "normalish" and rested at home. I took my medications, and the migraine gradually lessened in intensity, but never *quite* went away. And I knew that was a bad sign. 

I had two drop attacks this evening, which aren't necessarily aberrant in my seizure disorder. And yet, these two were vastly different than the usual drop attacks (which is unfortunately not a paradox, because seizures are the new normal). With these drop attacks, it was, as if, someone literally turned the lights off on my brain, and I woke up in pain on the floor not remembering how I got there (but not completely shocked by it either). The first seizure happened at around 6 pm, and I collapsed in my bedroom, hitting my knees and slapping my hands on the tile floor. Hence, my right hand is now even more injured. The second attack, which happened at around 9 pm, resulted in me hitting my forehead on the door frame, causing me to fall to the thinly carpeted floor of the living room, landing on the left side of my neck. I woke up MUST faster with the second seizure, which I suppose is a good sign, but my head is still (still throbbing). 

And that's the end of my three-day seizure survey. I feel like I've literally been through the wringer, and I look like it too. I'm covered in bruises, and will most definitely need to be casted for work tomorrow, so I'll be able to type at the impressive 10 words/minute rate (speculation). And yet, in the midst of all of this chaos, I managed to get my marriage license, grade some student work, and do the necessary evening wedding planning and crafting with Thomas. I also slept A LOT. And watched A LOT of tv. And stared at the dog A LOT. I think things are getting weird between the dog and I, because he seems really over my existence. We spend too much time together, I guess. I'm very excited to go back to work tomorrow, because even though it kills to type with my busted wrist, at least I get to feel like a contributing member of society again. 

Because This is Another Way to Say It