6:20 p.m. - 2005-01-24
Seizures
Today I hit this sort of amazing, three-lemons-on-the-slot-machine crescendo of just totally feeling bad. Physically, mentally, and everything in between.
This is hopeful. It can't get any worse, right?
I'm really hoping it can't get any worse!!
On the mental front, I went to see my therapist today. We're hitting the part of therapy that I have been dreading - the part where I actually start telling her things that make me squirm, and then we talk about what Should Be Done about those things.
The squirminess started with my telling her about my seizures.
This is always the most difficult part of any relationship I get into. There's always a point where I take a deep breath and tell whoever it is that I have seizures.
I always watch the person's eyes. Nine times out of ten there's a flash of panic, and when I see that little flash, I know the relationship is doomed. I will spend the next two hours trying to reassure the person that I'm totally harmless, that I'm not going to fall down on the floor and froth, that if I have a seizure they probably won't even notice.
If I actually get to the point where I tell them that I hardly ever have seizures anymore, that what I am dealing with is mainly Geschwind's Syndrome, which just gives me weird personality quirks, I know there may be some hope. But usually it just doesn't go that far.
There are just too many stigmas attached to seizures in this society, and most people can't get over their fears. When they find out I have seizures, I stop being the interesting person they might have wanted to be friends with. I transform into the dangerous person who might fall down and froth in a restaurant while we are ordering coffee.
You can imagine I'm very cautious about who I clue in on the situation. I have close friends who have no idea I'm an epileptic. It's sad. I actually find my seizures sort of funny, when I'm not walking in front of cars.
So anyway, I told Carol about the seizures, and she didn't bat an eye. She expressed concern about my driving. I assured her I wasn't driving. That was the end of it.
Nice!
She spent a lot more time asking me about the current lupus flair up. I have sores all over my lips, and today had a noticeable butterfly rash, so there was no point in trying to pretend I feel fine. We talked about the mind-body connection thing which progressed into a long and rambling conversation about my childhood which led into some real, true squirminess.
I sincerely hope this whole therapy thing leads me to become a rich and famous and completely healthy artist, not to mention a kick ass animal welfare advocate. yup, that's my therapy goal. Rich, famous, healthy, and kicking ass.
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After the squirm session I went over to the UAH library to wait for my esteemed hubby. Bruce and I were supposed to go open another checking account today, because our current one is so bollocked that I can't face trying to balance it anymore. I spent my wait time trying to sort of some genealogy stuff my cousin John sent me.
You know the problem with my family history? Everyone of my father's ancestors is named either William or John. And every single one of them is either an herbalist or a market gardener.
We've actually had to resort to a numbering system to keep all the Johns and Williams who are herbalists or market gardeners separated.
Alternately, we talk about them with their wives names appended. For example, there is William-Eunice, as opposed to William-Lucy, as opposed to William-Sarah. These Williams are opposed to John's-youngest-William-Ann-not-our-direct-line.
It is mind boggling. After two hours of sitting in the library trying to sort it out, I gave up and found some books on Brancusi. I love Constantin Brancusi. His sculpture brings back lovely art school memories for me (looking at slides of his work in sculpture classes) and I also love his sweet white bearded face, and his dogs.
I would have liked to have met him. I've read that he always cooked his friends Romanian soup.
By the time Bruce finally collected me, I couldn't face the new checking account. Like a watch winding down, I just lost all my energy. He drove me home, made me a peanut butter sandwich, and put me to bed.
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