I have two alarms; 7:30 am and 9:30 am. I do know that I can stay out of bed when my first alarm goes off, I just choose not to. It is difficult finding my way to my bathroom with my cat weaving between my legs as soon as they have hit the floor. He’s already demanding his food, unable to wait five minutes. The only reason I’m even awake, though, is to take my first medication, otherwise I would still be asleep. Not having a job in today’s times is my reason not being awake these days,though I do still look day after day after day. I will never give up; I will never surrender.
I am a happy person most of the time. Let me rephrase; I am a happy negative person. I always look towards the down side of the sun. Today’s times being hard, I tend to think that mine are more difficult. Yet I sit with a roof over my head and food on my table. I try to pushing myself towards the more positive side of the road, and then I feel that my Negative Nancy always pulling me back somehow. She can be mighty persuasive at times. If I’m supposed to focus on one aspect of my life to write about, why do I feel like eighteen are rolling around through my brain? Whenever I need to remember something vitally important, like for my insurance agent (who can’t seem to leave me alone right now…), I’m all blank inside. I can have a very weird head at times. I would also say I don’t like to talk about myself a lot. Well, I take that back; I do enjoy talking about myself. I do not often get to the direct point about me. I tend to gloss over my inner self. I wasn’t born with my disability. I just woke up one day, and bam, I was a different person.
I apparently had been told many times how this had all happened to me; that my brain had finally exploded. In medical terms; a grand maul seizure. My mother has told me I never knew what happened to me. One of the first things I do remember is waking up in William Beaumont Hospital and being tied to my bed. This began to make me think I was on the mental patient floor. Had I really gotten to that level in my life? I thought I was at my happy stage. I was 19 years old, working a simple job, taking simple classes, still living with my parents, rent free. Basically, I was still floating through life, so I didn’t understand why I would be in this portion of a hospital.
I started looking around at all of the machines that were plugged into me, hoping that maybe one of them could explain the real me. I only knew one monitored my heart, the rest, I felt were just there for entertainment purposes, though I knew they had their reasons. To my right I could see my mom, who was asleep. I almost didn’t want to wake her, she looked so peaceful. I needed to know why I was here, though. Once I awoke her, she almost couldn’t wrap her arms around me fast enough like I was speaking my first words. This was even more confusing.
As my mom started explaining why I was there, everything started coming back to me: I felt I had had this mind exploding pain for over almost a month. This began to explain the black dot I had been seeing in my eye, a spot I kept trying to poke out, thinking it was just dust. I thought I had been going blind for weeks! Being unable to glance off to my right, I actually had to turn my whole head. This was my brains way of saying to me that I had a blood clot up there, and it’ll be there all night, probably for the rest of your life.
It seemed I began to recall when this all had been starting. My concentration levels had been going down. One night, after such a long and difficult day shelving ten pounds of cat food at my life demeaning career in animal services, I took my usual route home in a much slower manner. My computer and television are usually the first things I tackle as soon as I walk through the door, but that night, I went straight to bed. The next morning, my dad came to wake me since me being more the type who leaps out of bed the second her alarm goes off seemed to be running behind,¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿???/////////// and I had no idea who he was. I didn’t know who my mom was. I didn’t know where I was. Seizures tend to do this to people.
I did not know these could just happen to anyone. Apparently they can, though. A person can be born with a blood clot in their mind, live with it forever and never know. Mine, though, wanted me to know it was here, not going anywhere. I just wish it had a better way of telling me than imploding into my brain and causing all this pain on my family. But, my mind is my mind; it must make its entrance into a room like I do, loud and proud.
I have learned so much about epilepsy throughout my ups and downs over these past ten years. There are many different types of seizures, and I primarily have three different types: there is my complex partial seizure. I recall with these that I get a sudden urge when I’m sitting on my couch to push everything off me. If anything touches me, I can feel all of my muscles tensing. All of the lights around me must be on so I can make sure there is nothing near me. If anyone is with me, they may not touch or speak to me, but they also may not leave me. I know they only last a few moments and after my head is finished, and then I just go back to whatever I had been doing, as if nothing had ever happened. I look around at the shocked looks on whoever is with me, wondering why they are looking at me with their eyes so wide. I have no idea any of this has just happened, until maybe a half-hour later.
Towards the ends of the months, when my body begins to go through its normal, womanly stages, I also know when I am beginning to experience my psychic seizures. My ability to recall my simplest task I had just finished days, sometimes even hours before seems to have weakened. This paper, for example, I feel I have had to review how to do it over fifty times even though my assignment lies in my folder five feet from me. Fifteen minutes after I have read what I am to do, I may even just go right back and re-read how to write about myself. I can, however, recall the most complicated event from years ago. I must always carry around post-its and pens with me in case something important has happened that I wish to remember, even though I am very good at misplacing them in the oddest of places.
Then there are my tonic-clonic, or “grand maul” seizures. I know that these are very rare for me. I know this is the first one I had, the one that started all of this, yet I will never remember them. I never know when I have them; never remember how long they last or the pain that is going through all that have to witness me. I will never know how this affects all those who love me; I will always regret the pain it causes them.
I have gone through many doctors, tried different medications, and dealt with my disability with my weird sense of humor. This is a disorder that I will always be with; and I’m alright.