By June Mirassou —
Wow! I know that sounds harsh...and maybe I should change the title of this entry to "Another Reason to Feel Sorry for Miley Cyrus"? But I have brain cancer, so fuck her if she can't take a joke.
You see, every time I see her picture with her tongue sticking out like that, I think that is exactly what I looked like when I looked in the mirror just as I was having my second seizure. But let's backtrack first, shall we?
On August 10th, I had my first seizure. It was a "grand mal" or "tonic clonic". Neither term seems to capture the true essence of what it was like. "Grand Mal" sounds like the depressed state of French teenager and "Tonic Clonic" seems to describe a bizarre cocktail that one would use to cleanse the ...<eh hem>...lower portion of your digestive tract. In reality, a "general seizure" is more like being taken on that amusement park ride that you begged not to go on...the one you threw up after...the one you get willies any time you even think of it even to this day. The good news is that I was pretty much not conscious during the whole thing. So maybe I better amend that whole description to say that it was the worst ride that STEVEN has ever been on, and HE still gets the willies thinking about it.
I was rushed to the E.R. and poked and prodded, given a CAT scan (which was deemed "clear"), and pronounced "Okay to go home." The cause was chalked up to too much indulging after a weekend in Vegas. Guilty as charged.
Do you know that 10% of people will experience a seizure at some point in their life? Weird fact, huh? I went to my general physician and was referred to a neurologist, but we didn't schedule a visit right away. No big deal, right?
Oh, except you can't drive in California for three months if you've had a seizure. So, no driving my new, gorgeous Audi A3 for me. Which I thought was the worst of my problems at the time. Walking to work or having to get driven everywhere. What an inconvenience!
Almost exactly a month later, I had my 2nd seizure. I was alone and just finishing up working on my computer in the dining room. I went to put my contact lenses in at our bathroom mirror, and I felt this strange (not in a good way) sensation come over me. When I looked in the mirror, I looked like...well, MIley Cyrus (see picture). My tongue was sticking out of my mouth to the left and my whole left face was contracted. (Side note; Miley, honey, this is not an attractive look. Trust me on this one.)
Because I had already experienced a seizure once, I thought, "Well, shit. I'm alone. What do I do?" As a teacher, I'm trained in what to do if a student has a seizure, so I applied it to myself. I laid down on my side, on the carpeted floor, away from anything I could hurt myself with. And I rode it out. I never lost consciousness, but it was the weirdest thing (at that time, mind you) to not have control over my own body at all. I could feel it twitching and convulsing but I could do nothing about out.
When it mostly calmed down, and I was able to stand up, I immediately grabbed my phone and texted Steven at work. I couldn't speak yet, and I was terrified that I had had a stroke. But I was able to formulate sentences and communicate through texts right away. Steven later said that my texts were more coherent than his are on a good day. I went into the dining room and scrawled a thorough explanation (Did I mention that I'm a teacher?) on a piece of paper and woke Aidan up to call 9-1-1. By the time they arrived, about 5 minutes later, I was sitting at the dining room table and able to speak. I still got a ride in the ambulance to Good Samaritan. Whee!
Again, it was chalked up to alcohol related symptoms, but that didn't make any sense to Steven or me, so the appointment with the neurologist suddenly seemed much more urgent.
Can I just say, if I promise not to name names, that my neurologist is a dick? He was dismissive and impersonal. He kept cutting me off when I was trying to elaborate on what had happened in the last month. His recommendation: no more drinking for me. (If it means that I don't have anymore of these fucking seizures? Easy Peazy! DUH!) and an MRI scheduled for October 6th. (It was the second week in September, by the way.) Okaaayyyy...
So, now I have the dual "inconveniences" of no driving and no drinking...
{Joke that I saw on reddit: What do you call a person who doesn't drink but can't be your designated driver? An epileptic.}
A week later, to the day, I had my third seizure. Again, I was working at my dining room table and decided to brush my teeth. Only this time, when the feeling came over me, I had toothpaste in my mouth/throat. I was terrified that I was going to choke. I tried frantically to spit out everything I could into the sink, but it was hard with my face contorted and contracted. Then I got on all fours so that the rest of it would (hopefullly) drip out my mouth. I rode out the wave...without choking, thank goodness! and then I started texting Steven again. Already, I was disturbingly calm with the drill. I woke up Katherine (who was visiting from Santa Barbara) and told her we needed to go to Good Sam's E.R. No ride in the ambulance, but it would be like the other times. At least I thought it going to be like the other times.
But life had other plans.
That time, I had another full body seizure in the E.R. That time, the E.R.. doctor said, "This doesn't quite add up, does it?" That time, I had an M.R.I., and we were told that it was a tumor. That time, I had fucking BRAIN SURGERY. [Did you know that when they perform BRAIN SURGERY, they fucking cut your cranium open and use sharp instruments on your fucking BRAIN???? That's heavy shit. ]
Oh, and that time, they told us that it was cancer.
This is the deep, deep water. You know the old maps that said, "Beyond here, there be dragons." Yea. That's where we are now.
And I really couldn't give a fuck if I ever drink again. Or if I ever get to drive my Audi A3 (but it's still mine, Steven!!! Forever and ever!).
The weird thing is...I'm still having (more "mild") seizures every day. Multiple times a day. With THREE (count 'em) meds that are supposed to suppress them. The meds make me sleepy and slow, too. Fun. fun. fun. My neurologist calls them "partial seizures" 'cause they only affect my face. Did I mention that my neurologist is a dick? And it's really hard to get an appointment with another neurologist? (We have one on October 29th with a specialist at UCSF.)
But really, these seizures are only an inconvenience in the Big Picture.
What are you worried about today? What is "inconveniencing" you? I don't want to be bossy and tell you what to do (SIRI!!! You're rude!)...but I gently recommend that you get your priorities straight. And don't wait until you look like Miley Cyrus to do it.
No comments:
Post a Comment