OCTOBER 12, 2007

Out of sorts and freaked out. I had a grand mal seizure early this morning and it was one of the most horrible things I've ever experienced and I still feel ill and partially lobotomized from it.

I was at my desk around 5am playing a computer game when I started to feel nauseous. I didn't think much of it since the psychedelic animation in the game can make me sick and I'd also taken my meds a few hours before, which can also make me ill, so the fact that I was green around the gills didn't seem odd.

But then I began to feel dizzy and started to sweat, which made me think I was either having a panic attack or a reaction to my meds, so I decided to go to bed since laying down always helps me feel better in either situation. When I got up, however, dizziness hit me like a freight train and my brain started to feel hazy and tingly, like the sensation you get when your leg falls asleep.

I started to have trouble walking and, as I stumbled into the hall that leads to our bedroom, my vision darkened and blurred, the prickly sensation in my brain got worse, and then it suddenly felt like consciousness was being sucked right out of my brain. My vision blacked out at that point and every last ounce of strength drained from my body and, in my last few seconds off consciousness, I managed to call Ross' name and the last thing I remember is Ross waking in an instant and the sound of his terrified voice calling, "babe?!"

I don't remember what happened next but, according to Ross, I stumbled backwards and fell unconscious to the floor, landing in a sitting position propped against a wall. Ross said that when he got to me I was dripping with sweat, my breathing was labored, my eyes were open but glassy and unfocused, my body was rigid and trembling and Ross couldn't get a response from me. And then I stopped breathing which, suffice to say, scared the crap out of Ross.

With me in a narrow hallway wedged against a wall, I wasn't in a great position for CPR but Ross blew into my mouth and got my breathing started again and then called 911. The 911 operator told Ross I was having a seizure, that an ambulance was on its way and, in the meantime, he needed to make sure I wasn't in a position where I could choke if I threw up or hurt myself if I twitched a lot but, before Ross could do much else, I regained consciousness and did so with all the grace of a rabid pitbull.

I was disoriented but managed to figure out that Ross was on the phone with 911 and that an ambulance was being sent and, while you'd think that would've been a relief, I was instead angry as hell. Due to chronic kidney stones, I'm all too familiar with middle of the night trips to the hospital and I hate them with a passion so, despite what had just happened, I vehemently refused to go to the hospital. I was not going and that's all there was to it, damn it.

Ross argued with me at first, but I was so weak that I was having a hard time talking and he knew arguing would only make me more stubborn, so he finally told the 911 operator that I refused to go to the hospital and wouldn't need an ambulance after all. I could actually hear the 911 lady yelling in protest over that, asking Ross if he was nuts, but I kept insisting I was ok and the 911 lady finally realized there was no changing my mind, but made Ross promise to get medical help if my condition didn't improve.

When Ross got off the phone, the first thing we wanted was to get me to bed but, when I tried to move, I was so weak that I couldn't even lift my arms. It was like I was paralyzed and couldn't move, much less get up or even crawl. At that point, Ross got it in his head that he was going to carry me to bed but, since that would have been like trying to bench press a sweaty hippopotamus, I told him I wanted to lay down in the hall until I felt better. Unfortunately, I didn't even have the strength to lay down so Ross maneuvered me onto my side, got a pillow for my head, then laid down right along with me.

"Just go to bed," I told him, knowing he was cold and uncomfortable, assuring him that I was ok, that there was nothing more he could do, and that there was no reason for him to sleep on the floor if he didn't have to. But he didn't budge or say a word. Instead, he just rearranged his pillow, patting it contently like he'd just found the perfect position, and settled in beside me, making it clear that he wasn't going to move. As long as I was on the floor, he would be, too.

So we laid on the floor, with Ross gently stroking my sweaty hair and body and telling me that everything was going to be ok, until I recovered enough to crawl to bed. And I do mean crawl. I was still so weak that I couldn't stand so I literally had to crawl, and I wouldn't even have been able to do that if it weren't for Ross helping and cheering me on. But I had to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. There I was, half naked and covered in sweat, wobbly crawling along like a drunken animal, with Ross rooting me on as though I were climbing Mt Everest. Almost there! Just a few more feet! You're doing great, babe!

And when I finally got to the bed, I did feel like I was climbing Everest because our bed is tall and the prospect of getting from the floor up to bed seemed utterly impossible. Even now I'm not sure how we overcame that hurdle. I just remember being on my hands and knees one moment, Ross leaning over me and saying, "ok, ready?" and then doing a faceplant into bed. It wasn't graceful, that's for sure, and I was still horribly ill and weak, but I would finally be able to rest in the comfort of bed and that felt like salvation.

I slept the rest of the morning only to wake up in the afternoon and find that I didn't feel much better, which kind of tweaked me out. I've never had a seizure before so I had no idea what the recovery process is like or how long it takes, but still feeling so ill and weak hours after the fact scared me. I slept the rest of the afternoon, though, and by the time I woke up tonight the nausea was finally dissipating, my strength was returning, and my brain felt a little less like a fried circuit board. Suffice it to say those are welcome improvements.

I've since done some research on seizures and found that it takes 24-48 hours to recover from one, so I'm not as worried about the fact that I still feel off kilter. And based on what Ross and I have read about seizures, our best guess is that mine was caused by the combination of low blood sugar, medications I take, and playing a game with psychedelic animation. Probably needless to say, there will be no more playing psychedelic games while starving and hopped up on prescription medications. Who knew such a thing could be a bad idea? Ahem.

I've been writing this in spurts since I'm too wiped out to do it all at once and, since I need to take a break again and I'm not even sure if this is coherent, I think I'll just bring it to a close. But there is one last thing that I want and need to say, which is... Thank you, Ross. You truly are the greatest. I was scared out of my mind this morning but, as always, you helped make everything better and it's at times like these that I could honestly weep with gratitude for all the love, strength, comfort, and joy you constantly and freely give me.

listening: depeche mode . reading: ---

walk: 0 minutes . weight lost: 12.5 pounds

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