Thursday, November 14, 2013

Holiday Air

Last night, Sara and I went to one of our favorite places to go during the holidays, the LaGrange Antique Mall. During this time of year all the dealers bring out their vintage Christmas decor and trinkets and it's fun to walk around and visit the memories of our childhood. A lot of the items are from the 1940s-1960s, but because a lot of these types of items are handed down, we had them in our homes. I grew up in a family where Christmas was celebrated immensely. We had all the holiday lights, toy trains, tinsel, the works.

Last year during this time, Sara, me and my family were traveling back and forth to Mayo Clinic where we celebrated both Thanksgiving and Christmas in hospital rooms and hotels, so we didn't really get a chance to really decorate or put up a tree. Plus, we were moving to our new apartment which made the whole season sort of a wash.

I can't say for certain how this year will go because things still seems to be pretty stressful, but it was just nice to go somewhere quiet, like the antique mall, and stroll around laughing and sharing memories as we found them.

While I was there, I found an old Leica point-and-shoot camera in great condition and I just had to have it. It was cheap and I knew just what I could do with it. If you know me, you know that I'm a "collector" of these types of simple cameras. I just love the look and feel of an old 35mm camera, and the shots I hope to get out of them. I have a bunch of film just waiting for the time when I can bring the camera to my eye.

Every time I find one of these cameras or rifle through my collection, I think about what new event will spark the photographer inside me to finally come back to the surface. I loved shooting, and still today I love the concept of photography, but I just can seems to get myself out there and take photos.

Already, I've cleaned the camera I bought last night, found a battery and downloaded the manual off the internet. I've been taking practice shots with no film all morning, so I know every feature once I decide to slip the camera into my pocket and step outside the door. Right now, I'm writing in my journal to plan special events in which I will bring the camera. Maybe this will help me get over the writer's block-type hump I seems to be having for photography.

Maybe breathing some of holiday air from last night will remind me of when I was a kid and Mom would have her camera ready to document every present, every smile and every silly moment we had during the holidays. Maybe this is the year Santa will finally bring me some inspiration.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Cold Sweat

On Saturday, I had a seizure just before laying down to rest. I usually put my phone and VNS magnet on my nightstand, and just before the seizure started, during the aura phase, I was aware enough to grab the magnet and swipe it over my chest to activate the device.

The seizure was on the strong side so I laid in bed until I felt ok enough to move around. I knew that I had to call Sara to let her know what happened but, as I was in the postictal phase of the seizure, I was confused and couldn't find the phone that I set on the nightstand.

The concept of a phone and what it looked like was fuzzy and even though the phone was still on the nightstand, I looked at it and told myself that it wasn't there; I had to search the house. I, quit literally, floated around the apartment searching for the lost phone, in random places like in the fridge and under the chairs until I found myself back at the bed, staring at the phone.

I looked at it for a good couple of minutes before picking it up and asking myself, "is this what I'm looking for?" I fiddled with the phone until it turned on and tried to figure out why I was holding it until the memory of making a call came back to me. It was then that I started to have a fever sweat and dry-heaved from the nausea that sometimes follows a seizure.

I finally made the call to Sara and laid back down. I took an Ativan, a seizure rescue medication, and drifted into a stoned, staring-like state. Sara was home by the time I fell asleep and when I woke up it was already dark. I didn't remember the seizure or why I was laying down at first. I had to search my memory and wanted to ask her what happened but before the words came out of my mouth, I remembered.

I mentioned this in my last post. My seizures come in waves. Once the "seal is broken" for one seizure, I know to expect several more. This might turn out to be a week where I'm either here at my desk writing or searching the house for an item that was never lost.