I had a fairly massive seizure this morning. It, overall, lasted about an hour and fifteen minutes, including my initial recovery. But I was wiped for a long time afterwards.
I can remember most of it, including the point at which I was deliberately trying to blank it out; a sort of “La la la this isn’t happening” moment, when O was tugging at my shoulder telling me “Mummy get up”, or something like that – as I said, my memory of specifics is hazy. I know at one point I was convinced I was going to die. It may seem melodramatic, but I often get like this in seizures. My mind is all over the place, and to say I’m not thinking straight would be an understatement.
I wasn’t hugely bothered about the concept either. I don’t know what possessed me to be that convinced of it, but I had a moment where I thought “Oh well, I guess this is it then,” as casual as you like. I think at that point my breathing may have been a little erratic, so it could have been oxygen deprivation. Or the reverse. I do often end up taking great gasping breaths at points.
It was odd, really. Bad, too – of course it was, and I probably come across in textual form a lot calmer about the whole thing than I really was. But part of the issue I have is that my brain just disconnects. I lose my normal emotional responses, which was evident afterwards, when I burst into tears about three or four times, presumably as my brain got back on track. I felt utterly freezing afterwards, too. I think that the convulsions I had towards the end burned up a lot of energy. I couldn’t stand by myself either.
Sorry, this is a rather garbled entry, isn’t it. Still, it’s nothing like as garbled as it would have been had I written immediately after my recovery, so that’s something at least. And in my defence, I am dog tired right now.
I have the delights of a hospital appointment regarding gall stones tomorrow, too. W has asked his father to take me to the hospital, rather than me getting the bus, because of what happened today. On the one hand it’s nice not to have to get the bus, but on the other it is just another reminder of what happened. The chances are I won’t have another one that severe for months, or even a year.
Then again, I will openly admit that I get rather too blasé about my epilepsy. It’s easy to really. All I need are a few good days/a couple of good weeks, and I start to forget what a pain it is when I go downhill. (And how scary it is for everyone around me.) Still, it beats being on red alert all the time, which would be the other extreme. I find that gentle denial makes the good days more relaxed, though I know that W doesn’t really switch off. I know I would worry less if O and M understood better. I have a nasty suspicion that I knocked into O while having the fit because he kept coming too close to me. I don’t really want to ask. Most of the time I can handle descriptions of my seizures; I crave them in order to make sense of it all, and place events in order. But every now and then I have one where I just don’t want to know. Today was that day.