Post-Seizure Post

I had a pretty strong seizure about 30 minutes ago and I'd like to see if I can describe these last few minutes.

Right now, I'm searching for every letter on the keyboard; taking about 5-10 seconds to type each word. I'd like to mention that I'm relying heavily on spellcheck and a lot of the words I'd like to use to explain what's going on might as well be French because I'm having a hard time recognizing them.

I took a couple Ativan, which is an emergency medication. I'm feeling it absorb into my blood stream and I have to say that it's a pretty nice little high. It's a very sleepy high, but I feel warm all over and I can't really feel my feet.

I would consider the seizure strong because the whole right side of my body went numb and I'm pretty sure I lost consciousness. By that, I mean I could've been technically awake, but I'm missing a good chunk of time in my memory of the last hour or so. 

***

I've spent about an hour writing this post, so far, and I'm feeling a little better. I'm starting to recognize words as I type them. Note: I'm going through the first half of my post and fixing grammar errors, because I get self-conscious about that sort of thing. Vain, I know!

***

I called Sara just after I realized what a phone was (no joke), and I'm pretty sure I was still having the seizure because I don't remember quite what I said to her. I remember apologizing a bunch, which I tend to do after a seizure. My face feels puffy, so I know I had a good cry. I know that may sound weird to not remember whether or not I had such an emotional moment but that's sometimes what happens for me after or just at the end of a seizure. Especially as bad as the one I'm recovering from.

I know I'm going to look back on this post later today and not remember writing this so I want to document as much as I can while I'm still in the posticle phase (seizure hangover).

I want to thank everyone who reads this blog and I want everyone to know that I appreciate their support. Without being able to write this for all of you to read would be devastating to me.

Crying again, dammit.

Signs of Weakness

I've long considered Epilepsy as a sign of weakness. Who wouldn't? I've had a lot of my freedoms taken away from me, freedoms that most would consider commonplace for a man my age.

Through all of this I've had a strong support system of family and friends. Just last week, a friend from college commented on a blog post that I'm "way stronger than I even know." It's comments like these that keep my pen to paper. I appreciate my readership. I look everyday to see if my blog has gotten any "hits," and everyday they're in the double-digits. So, overwhelmingly, thank you.

Epilepsy as a sign of weakness is an easy post to write because I'm so familiar with this feeling, but if I thought of my strength I probably couldn't get past the first sentence. I can only say that I've come a long way with little results, my body is in shambles, but there is still air in my lungs. My Dad would say something like that.

I remember last year after being taken to the ER in Beloit, I was coming out of the Ketamine coma and all that came out of my mouth to the Police Officer was accolades of my Dad and how I knew I would never have his courage or strength. My sisters and I think of him as a super hero. He fought in a war, was a cop, and survived a terrible car accident all before he hit 40. I mean, he has the scars to show for it, but his positive attitude is what makes him our hero.

Maybe I do have a little of his courage and strength in me and that's what makes me his son. I know that there's a long, winding, muddy path in front of me but if I look back at these past five years, I'd see no path at all, just a pit from which I have just climbed out.