brightrosefox: (Default)
https://plus.google.com/100400881094218310019/posts/2QhbpM1cg9c

So, that's the link to all the photos they took during my MRI. You know, from here:
http://brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com/1673757.html
http://brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com/1672704.html

I'm trying to still figure out where my neurological seizures happen, since I have problems in the corpus callosum but there's no mesial damage, so. Time to research neuroscience. And then talk to my neuroscientist.
brightrosefox: (Default)
The replacement medical dog tag, which features the main medical conditions that essentially encompass most other syndromes - cerebral palsy and autism have so many comorbidities and associated disorders that most medics will get the idea.

medicalalertpendant


It came via a website called Sticky Jewelry. They're pretty awesome, and affordable. This came with a free cleaning chamois cloth and a free medical identification card on which to fill out vital information, like emergency contact, physician phone number, prescriptions, blood type.

The pendant I attached it to is an Etsy-bought custom-made ouroboros pentacle with an amber stone. It has a lot of power for me. Also, it's a fun stim.
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FYI! Got my brain CD. The neurologist couldn't find anything out of the ordinary that was not already abnormal, etc. So I went and got the CD with my MRI and brought it home, and Adam turned it into a Power Point presentation. I wish so much I knew what to really see, that I could see with a neuroscientist's eyes. I can see my butterfly's broken wings. And the thinning of the corpus callosum.

Let me see if I can copy from the paperwork...

Abnormal dilation of both lateral ventricles with an asymmetric area of dilation along the mid body of the right lateral ventricle. Waviness and distortion of the lateral ventricular margins bilaterally. Dilatation of the third ventricle. Partial absence of the septum pellucidum. Generalized thinning of the corpus callosum which appears grossly intact. These findings likely represent developmental anomalies of the brain; however, these findings could also represent the sequela of in utero ischemia and periventricular leukomalacia. There is no evidence of focal abnormality of the temporal lobes.

Ahh, science. *basking in words*

Now, however... I am still irritated about the lack of EEG response. They tell me I was born with epilepsy - and there is the physical evidence in my brain creature right there. However, I feel... I suppose silly is the word. This may not be an ordinary kind of epilepsy where electrical activity shows up on EEGs. But... but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I guess. I just sometimes wonder, that's all.
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From Facebook, because I am very tired:

-So, here I am in my little hotel style room at an official neurology sleep center. My tech, Peter, is sweet and funny. I even have a big shiny red button to press when I need him. It's in a pack attached to my waist. My head is wrapped in gauze. Electrodes are hooked to my skin and wires are trailing at my feet. Adam took a picture. Go see!
The bathroom has a shower with a chair!

-LOL, gauze and sexy electrodes.
The reason for all this is because my neurologist is concerned about the several seizures per month. Hence, a ten hour EEG study. I get naps and Adam brings food. And when it's all done, the doctors will see if anything significant happened. Even if I don't have any seizures, this is a good move. For SCIENCE.

-Adam is bringing me lunch. And then, more specific tests will happen. Probably another nap? Apparently, the EEG has not shown any seizure activity. I haven't even needed to push the shiny red button yet, which amuses the technician.

-All done. I need a shower and a nap. Adam will take me home and then I'll wait for the neurologist to call. I'm actually disappointed that I never generated any seizure activity. It makes me doubt my brain.

-The days when you're just too exhausted to get back up and shampoo out the electrode goo from your hair. I'm just going to take a little nap. Then I'll get that shower. Just a little nap.
(Spoilers: I slept for one hour and took a really long shower with like three shampoos and two conditioners.)
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This afternoon saw my session of physical therapy until I see the physiatrist next month. For now, all the alignment exercises have done very well. I will do them for the rest of my life. They're not only extremely gentle but extremely soothing. I could probably use them to combat anxiety a little. This pleases me.

I've been packing my laptop bag and a toiletries bag. I'll pack a change of clothes. Ten hours with electrodes on my head will be fascinating. Note to self: bring the leopard plushie. Maybe the dolphin too.

When I spoke to the technician from the EEG unit a little bit ago, I was told to get less than my normal sleep time, which is generally nine to twelve hours. I'll aim for six to seven.
I was told to come in tired, so that my brain would be more susceptible. This actually matched the stuff my neurologist told me.

It is very interesting to note that an online fight rarely triggers my epilepsy. It turns out that if the fight comes out of nowhere and makes no sense, I become bored and stop paying attention until something of interest happens.
Maybe I should wander into some random forum filled with concern trolls who are insisting that groups of invisible people are on their sides. Those sometimes make me twitch.

But, since my main triggers are fatigue, emotional excitement bad or good, fear, and probably other similar things, I might decide to watch a scary movie and not get enough sleep and maybe go online and read about, I dunno, for example... trolls treating autistics like not-people. That's good for some rage anxiety.

I I just finished Gaiman's The Ocean At The End Of The Lane. It was surrealist and psychological enough to guarantee interesting dreams. I may bring it to the medical building to read again along with the other books.

I think the most recent seizure was at least two days ago.That might explain why I feel bored, puzzled, and amused in a lab study way about stuff going on around Facebook and comic forums and other bloggery type websites I follow (I don't even touch Twitter).

Currently, I am feeling like an alien watching humans throwing random petty tantrums for no actual reasons. I guess they weren't getting the results they wanted.

Keep on being fascinating, internet.
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Some postictal stuff happened. Some preictal stuff happened. I don't recall the ictal stuff. Yesterday and the day before were fascinating blanks. My entire lower back, from muscle to nerve, screams in pain and then cries in pain. That has been the normal thing. So, normal Shrug.

I've been reading books. I've been watching the Simpsons marathon on FXX when I can. Occasionally, I've fallen asleep to it. What a lovely idea.

The extracts of mangosteen and noni have done their best to help with pain and such. I approve.
brightrosefox: (Default)


Oh, Okay. That was very, very quick. Oh, that was less than a minute. So much energy, so much chemical screaming. Oh, Oh damn. My head is pounding. My fingers can't stop flying over this keyboard. I should go to bed. Oh.
Complex partial seizures are fascinating. Complex partial seizures that secondary generalize into Tonic Clonic seizures are even more fascinating and are rather grotesque. No wonder people were terrified in the past.
I remember grasping the leather chair arms to stop my body from catapulting away. I remember being aware of my mind, but not my body, as I watched my body from a window in my mind. I flailed and spasmed and strained and convulsed gently against the chair, and I fought gravity like a woman possessed. I was completely silent. My hair was flying all over my face. My body had no choice. Something had to release. Like a taut wire snapping. My wrists had strained from working to help my fingers stay gripped on the chair arms.
Things are painful now. Too tense. Tiny spasms now.
Oh, epilepsy. I do not appreciate you at all. Nope.



Also, I am technically okay. Postictal state has left me drained, exhausted, weak, tired, foggy, floating somewhere between hungry and not hungry.
I'm glad I wrote it down. The seizure, I mean. Sometimes I remember better.

Stretching, stretching. Massages. I don't remember what else.
Well, er. At least the ligaments in my knees feel less tight?
Also, seizure fogginess blended with fibromyalgia fogginess makes Joanna something something.

Also, according to my blog records, this was the first seizure in three months, so, hey, that's good.

http://m.livejournal.com/read/user/brightlotusmoon/tag/being%20alice

Yeah, well.
brightrosefox: (Default)
So, I had what I considered a palsy victory and agony simultaneously.

Depressive episode gripping me hard enough to draw blood, I walked out - no cane, because medicine and meditative stretchy exercise like whoa - and took the Metro to Twinbrook, walked the ten minutes to Congressional Plaza, shopped, stopped to eat sushi, and carried two bags back to the Metro, right side burning and feeling ripped open while palsy left side felt ghost-like and nearly numb. Got to Shady Grove again, took the bus and stopped at the Redmill Center right near my house community, went to the CVS and bought drug refills, limped and shook and spasmed and gasped as the bus dropped me off across from my townhouse community, walked with three bags that felt like dead weights, stopped to get the mail, went home, went upstairs, collapsed, and very weakly, feebly flailed and flapped and cried out "Yay, I did it, go me!"

I got myself belated birthday gifts, especially because the Rockville Ulta now carries
It Cosmetics, which is my top favorite makeup brand in the world, which I just learned today so it was like a cliche of angels singing. I'd been waiting for my Ulta to acquire It Cosmetics since last year, when the Silver Spring Ulta announced they had the brand and that Rockville would get it this spring. YES. I was also flush with coupons and points so I splurged: I got the new liquid peptide foundation and the new thin-brush peptide mascara; and also Ecotools brand konjac facial cleansing sponge made of konjac fibers, because konjac is one of the most awesome internal and external cleansing fibers in the world.

I was in horrid pain, honestly awful bad bad pain, pain that was like trauma pain... and I was happy. Because PAIN pushed me on. And VICTORY. It was nearly joy. And joy is something above emotion, after all.

I knew that my cane might have made my hands more full. But the fact that I was capable of doing all this without a cane... it was just... well, you know. Hemiplegic spastic ataxic cerebral palsy, spastic hypertonia, fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, sciatica, lordosis, migraine pain, major depressive episode, autistic symptoms making everything loud and bright and I could barely look in people's eyes despite cheerful conversations. I did STUFF. I did stuff that made me feel good. I will be in pain for days. But I did it! I think the agony will be worth it, the codeine and the tramadol and the baclofen and the clonazepam and the capsule supplemets of devil's claw and MSM and cayenne and mangosteen and noni vinpocetine and oh my gods I can hardly walk and I am shaking all over and my muscles feel torn up and I want to break down in tears.
But I am proud of myself?
*wipes away tears*

Damn, I really hurt...

...and I forgot to buy milk.
It's okay. I have enough coconut cream, coconut milk, and sweetened condensed milk to work with my coffee until I can get to Giant. Plus a hand mixer blender device to whip it good. At Giant I can grab a lightweight jug of kitty litter and a half-gallon of whole milk, and canned cat food. I can bring a backpack plus a tote to see what will fit how, so I can take the cane.
I'm twitching so much. I wonder if this entire day was one big seizure trigger. Fuck.

Now, today, the day after, I am slowly preparing for my first meet and greet appointment with the new psychologist. My last one got too expensive after I switched to Medicare, and this new woman will work on a sliding scale, with my mother willing to help.
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Um. So.
Last night I had a small seizure - awake but barely conscious. And the baby migraine kept pulsating. I forced myself to sleep. I woke up at noon with the migraine even worse. And the thunder rolled.

The seizure itself was pitch black. It had me moving through a completely moon-less woods, holding the hands of two people - Alicia and Ananta - and stumbling over things, which transferred agony into my skull. I was shaking. They kept saying, Just a little more, just ahead, it's a rose light, you'll recognize it...
And there it was like a rosy mist with light inside. At the last minute, Ananta picked me up and carried me directly into the mist. That is all I remember.

I wound up staying in bed for an hour, because Calliope kept vocalizing, nuzzling and bunting me, and settling in to nurse on my shirt. I know she loves me deeply, but I must ask the cat behaviorists here what it means to be truly, actually loved by your cat, because Calliope will not go to bed until I go to bed, Calliope will follow me around the house, Calliope will check on me just to make sure I exist.

After I fell out of bed and took my medications (baclofen, tramadol, codeine, coffee, omega-3, MSM, L-Tyrosine, probiotics, inositol, shilajit, ashwagandha, noni, mangosteen, devil's claw, magnesium oil massaged into the severe stiff burning screaming lower back).

I am not fooled. I may be upright, typing. But I am having moments in which I need to breathe, collapse in the chair and massage my head. This will be a very interesting afternoon. Luckily, I have DVRed Archer, Bitten, Being Human, Lost Girl, etc. Just in case.
Is it sad that I want Ray and Lana to be my nursemaids?
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'Reborn' by Laura Sava (anotherwanderer.deviantart.com/)
'Mirabella' by Rachel Anderson (www.silverstars.us/‎)

Two forms of my own story character, Asha Clara Night, my strongest, most individual, most personal fiction character.

These paintings. Completely different images that look almost exactly like incarnations of the same character of my own subconscious creation Women who look almost exactly like the dreamself I am becoming in my dreams and visions.

Laura-sava-Reborn

Rachel Anderson Mirabella


She was in my dreams last night and many nights before. I haven't decided exactly who she is yet, but in my dreams her name is Asha, meaning "desire, hope, hopeful; life; alive; she who lives." Which says so much, so so much.

She is another dreamself, not a spirit guardian, but much closer to my Self than my other characters (Alicia, Serena, Ananta: my spirit guardian coping mechanisms for epilepsy, memory loss, insomnia, sleep problems, [Alicia], chronic pain and fatigue, depression, anxiety, physical disabilities [Serena], neurology, neurodivergence, autism, total mind-body connection [Ananta].

Asha seems to represent many internal things about my emotions, my heart and mind, my rhyme and reason, my logic, my science, my creativeness and creativity, my power, my energy, my beauty. If she were to reveal herself as a guardian, she would be for emotional states, creative thoughts, desires, loves, patterns, ideas.
Asha is definitely powerful in a way I always wanted to be since childhood: Fae and and Elemental Mage and Neurodivergent and Autistic Witch and Quantum Magic Scientist and Story Crafter and Shape Shifter and Magic Librarian and Magic Keeper.

Asha seems to represent my deep, obsessive, compulsive wish and desire to be one of the psionic-mage superhumans in my stories, to take over for be when I feel failure and self-loathing and terror and panic. I think Asha may in fact be an actual entity, one who communicates outside instead of simply speaking into my visions, dreams, pain flare withdrawings, anxiety attacks.

All I know is that Asha was in every dream last night and throughout the past several sleeps, long detailed intense dreams, and she quoted Kosh. She spoke in a soprano version of my voice that could sing. She was always here She is always here. She has always been here.
I think she was with me since I was a baby. In different forms, in different species, with different names, in different imaginary beings, in different fictional characters. She was made of fire. She used to be a phoenix, a unicorn, a dragon, a star, a nebula. I know Asha. I know Asha in the way I hope to know myself.

The thing is, Asha has a fully active voice when I am completely conscious, aware, awake, functional, and stable. She didn't completely create herself, but she grew and evolved over my lifetime in her own way as a character in my subconscious. She took ideas I worked with and wove them into her personality, behavior, and mentality. My disabilities are hers. She stayed and changed and grew with me like a permanent piece of my spirit. Asha also represents my fluid sexuality - I often visit her in the place she calls home and we make love, representing my desires for love and orientation.

She lives with Alicia in the Wonderland cottage, but she freely moves about my brain more often. She shapeshifts into elemental energies, she moves around my hippocampus and amygdala and temporal lobes and cingulate gyrus and thalamus and auditory cortex and somatosensory cortex and parital lobe and the back of my brain.
She has altered the Wonderland cottage to be something else entirely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two office rooms, a large entertainment living room, a large kitchen, a basement. The outside build would contain concrete, cement, hemp and limestone, bamboo, steel. The glass windows are shatterproof. The doors are hemp-lime and timber. That must say something about my mind's inner workings. Especially since the main reason for hemp being illegal is due to its threat to corporate patentable synthetic fibers and wood and paper product industries, while the medicinal drug potential became subject to false claims and fear mongering alarm campaigns until the original industrial potential became buried under the alarmist anti drug campaigns. Part of me probably knows how powerful this is. Medicine from nature itself and the human brain itself is usually denied and seen as worthless.

Asha represents that part of me that firmly supports the controversial balance of traditional pharmaceutical medicine and nontraditional botanical medicine.
Asha is my activism and advocacy. Asha is the fire that moves my belief in the combination of synthetic drugs and organic drugs. Asha is the phoenix in me that rises after every defeat, every failure, every attack, every oppression, every attack and assault on my truths and faiths.

Throughout many names, faces, back stories, lives, personalities, and individual growths... she has always been Asha Clara Night. And this is how she asked me to look so I could see that there is beauty deep and shining.

I must find and thank the artists for these images, since I found myself taking these pieces of artwork and subconsciously turning them into incarnations of my own fictional character.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151978626835684&l=17dde55bf4

Asha may well be the character in that second novel after all. It won't be this Asha, my Asha; just a version, a more humanized incarnation I can bring out to show the public. This excites me. She could help me write it, just by living in my mind.
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My modified Disablility Compensated Qi Gong exercises always help, mentally and spiritually and psychologically and physiologically. Like yoga, except Fake Yoga Cripple Style that is not actually yoga. (FYCS. FIX. Ha ha ha...) (Or hey, Fake Yoga Cripple Style Modified Exercise. FYCSME = FIX ME. Ha ha. Wow. Dude.)

But it isn't helping today. I'm too Hollow, which is my term for deep major depression. I'm too Postictal, after that unexpectedly awful seizure yesterday and its aftershock which were tiny seizures for hours. Emotional responses are foreign and results of emotion are mere symptoms, like crying and laughing. I will meditate again, do more qigong work, and breathe and much as possible.
FYI. I am having an episode of pure major Depression plus major Anxiety. This is accompanied by mild memory loss of the past two days. Everything is foggy. I know I should be upset about something, but I cannot feel upset. What is upset, anyway? I think I hurt myself emotionally yesterday. I wish I remembered what it was. I believe it started out with false happiness. Remember that weird assumption of some sort of hypomania? I think I was outside of my rational mind.

Back to special exercises.
People keep suggesting and recommending breathing exercises. I know all of that. I know people just want to share their personal remedies. I love it. Please don't think I am rejecting you. I love hearing your stories. Even the stories about yoga. I wish I could explain why just seeing or hearing the word yoga evokes a sad, upset reaction. It isn't that I am unable to do yoga. It is just that yoga extremists do not listen nor care about my need for compensation. My body was born crooked. I cannot form a proper straight line even if I held on to something. No amount of cajoling, insisting, or pushing different forms will change that. Please don't do that. Please just accept that I have to perform qi gong differently, and that qi gong included poses that are similar to yoga, and that yoga is not the greatest panacea of healing holistic practices. This is part of why I don't want to visit California, which makes absolutely no sense and makes me look prejudiced.

So. Please, please do talk about how much yoga is healing you, because that is beautiful and I am genuinely, honestly joyfully happy. But if you wish to suggest a yoga pose that can be modified for someone with a shaky, spastic, crippled body, please suggest an alternate form. That is all I ask. There is no such thing as a real panacea, even in the botanical world, even in the plant and herb world, and certainly not in the exercise world. It is entirely possible that I will find a set of yoga exercises that will really, truly help me, and I will join the ranks of yoga enthusiasts. Anything is possible. Nothing is off limits. Except evangelism. If I wanted something pushed down my throat, I will drink water mixed with special fruit and plant powders, like sea buckthorn and moringa.
This is coming from my years as a holistic enthusiast and pusher. I was bad. I was essentially an asshole. And then I learned that it was just wrong. I never want to do that again. Just because something works perfectly for me does not mean it will work at all for someone else.

Any form of good physical-spiritual combination exercise, be it yoga, qigong, taichi, strength training, cardio, dead lift weight, isometrics, plyometrics, dance, hardcore dance, etc, is wonderful and beautiful and strengthening, and will help everyone in some personal powerful way. That is the point of exercise.
I love you all. If you really want to help me, don't push me. Just guide me.
brightrosefox: (Default)
According to Adam, there were two seizure incidents. The first, during foreplay, was a complex partial, from which he had me rest for a while. the second, after the sex was well over and while I was heading toward the bathroom to fill a water bottle, was a secondary generalized seizure, in which I cried out, fell to the floor on my side, and started twitching. Adam heard me and hurried out from the bedroom. He gently moved me onto my back to better look at me, and he stroked my face until I gasped like a drowning person and started sobbing and apologizing. I remember that part.
I also remember the part where Luna came meowing and rubbing against me, licking my face and purring loudly. I said to her, "You're late. But thank you for the comfort." And Calliope came running to me, purring and trilling, but Luna rebuffed her. Calliope was undeterred, because she is generally unfazed. She still stayed close by and stared at me.
I still count Luna as an emotional support cat, even when she arrives after the fact.
I wish I could remember Being Alice. Obviously both times Alicia helped me through. I just can't remember.
Adam said that the first time left me with a severe palsy accent, a stutter, and a complete inability to move my left arm and leg without forcing myself - seeing as how I am mild, this always freaks me out, even though I've gotten used to it. The second time, I cried and spasmed, but was able to respond and move. My left wrist hurts stabbily and achingly from the damn flexion contracture. Both that and the other issues are usually mild but always worsen during severe fatigue, seizure episodes, severe moments of pain, and overstimulation - which, as Lana Kane says, duh, of course happened. My brain hurts. Screw it, my everything hurts and I'm still spastic. I'm going to bed.
It is wonderful to have my husband home, even for a few days.
brightrosefox: (Default)


I had a seizure. I didn't mean to. It lasted three minutes. Complex partial. I'm so sorry. I suck at everything. I can't think. Word fail. Word flail. I'm sorry. I have to something something rest and medicine. I'm sorry about the seizure. I remember Alicia's kiss. I remember her peace. I remember Koan's purring, I remember Serena's embrace. I remember whiteness and vortex and confusion. I'm so sorry, brain. Something something take your Klonopin and Passionflower and rest easy.
Maybe winter. Maybe I don't know. Things hurt. I'm just cold. Everything is my fault.

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Seizure happened in the kitchen. Jupiter meowed and rubbed against me while I crouched. Adam came in and gently lay me on the floor. My eyes were open and blank. Adam touched my face and reached for my mind, and I spasmed and gasped and blinked. I asked why I was on the floor. Adam helped me up and stood me against the large freezer. My memory is swirling. Alicia is holding me. Earlier, Adam said he told his boss, a fellow animal lover, that he needed an extra day to care for his wife. I rolled my eyes and said that was not necessary; that I was fine. Never mind. It was so dark and so white equally braided as order and chaos magics. I was spinning at ninety-nine percent light speed and thirty-five miles an hour. The world was elsewhere. A few seconds lasted a thousand years. Adam suggested I go upstairs and rest. Jupiter is suggesting a cuddle. I am thinking coffee and clonazepam and baclofen. I am made of light and love and pure order-chaos magic in its simplest form. I can give myself the right strength. May be that I can regenerate. As brightly and intensely as a Time Lord. I always shine enough for everyone.

brightrosefox: (Default)
I had a seizure yesterday, recorded it on Facebook, and now must copy it it here, since I always do.

Soo, electric pain and spasticity are now preceding simple partial seizures, previously called auras, which lead to complex partial seizures, hey? Brain, you are awesomely bizarre. But we knew that. Long story short, cerebral palsy and fibromyalgia and epilepsy like to team up. BRB, fighting a seizure, probably not winning. See you all in a few minutes.

The sound of one hand striking a keyboard whilst electricity, burning, floods the semi-paralyzed other half of the body, spastic hemiplegia indeed... hypertonia, ataxia, except the brain has no pain receptors. so why is it burning, I laugh.
I have never been to space until now. Some place in space anyhow. My chair became a shuttle. My copilots were my human coping mechanisms called imaginary friends, yes I know the difference between reality and fiction, my girls are fiction, and if you think I don't understand, oh my you are badly mistaken, and how dare you assume, no wait, that was from a blog post comment thread, never mind.
There were so many stars, I think, at least shining spots far off in that darkness. There were nebulas everywhere. So much color. Maybe it was another dimension? I have never seen outer space like this.
Amara and Alicia held my hands the whole time. Alicia has broken away from the Wonderland force fields to interact with the rest of my brain. This means something neurologically, I think. She is now taking on more than just epilepsy. Oh. I see now. Thank you, Alicia.
I'm so tired now. But I must finish this. It is fading. NO.
I was in my own head, going ninety-nine percent light speed, felt like thirty-five miles an hour, that was a Futurama joke, I don't care if you are sick of my Futurama quotes, bite me. And then, and then, that prismatic explosion of every color blending into white, since that is how white is created, and a howling noise like a perfect wind screaming through alleys, and I was sliding off my chair save for my hands clawing grasping at the leather padded chair arms and my lungs were sucking in air and my lips were chapped and my mouth was dry and my neck hurt and I was shaking.
And Jupiter was meyowling. He is still meyowling. I have to go see what he wants.
You know those dreams where you wake up and realize you are still dreaming? No, I stopped, but it took a moment. My eyes were still open.
I am still open.

And now I must perform intricate physical therapy stretching qigong dance moves to force my left side to function. Love you too, epilepsy. Here comes a Soma pill to begin muscle relaxing and a Klonopin pill to begin mental relaxation. Go!

Update, December 11: Still postictal, but incredibly positive. Light-hearted, even. I feel like dancing.
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Things are moving along very very well. Mom and I haven't even gotten annoyed at each other, not once.
Adam and I traveled through Sag Harbor and Southampton cheerfully. My parents gave me prepaid gift cards, which I spent at Provisions in Sag Harbor and Second Nature in Southampton, both small local natural health shops that sell some products I can't find in Whole Foods, Roots, Dawson's, etc.
Dinners here have been fantastic, between Mom and Adam as chefs. Mom gave me several pairs of jeans, which she hemmed, as well as jackets and blazers. But the best was a pair of beautiful black Doc Martens ankle boots that zipped up the sides and featured perfectly fashionable soles with incredible tread. They look like these, with silver buckles for a visual fashion look. http://www.ebay.com/itm/NEW-Womens-Dr-Martens-Leather-Black-Silver-Zipped-Ankle-Boot-size-6-/221295045046?_trksid=p2054897.l4275 I am seriously in love; these are like the ideal ankle boots for me, with my spastic ataxic hemiplegic cerebral palsy. Mom always sends me home with clothes that no longer fit her, so I know full well to pack light. But oh, these boots. Oh, how perfect.

Yesterday, I did have an intense fibromyalgia flare with extreme fog and fatigue, which was all right, because I was able to take naps throughout the day.

Today, I was overloaded and overwhelmed a bit, and I did have a complex partial seizure, which Mom and Adam soothed me through. When I'd woken up this morning, the hemiplegia was in full force, causing near-paralysis. Adam helped me stretch, and then Mom came up to help as well. We wound up playing Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock with my left hand. Success was achieved, and I got dressed without incident, pulling on a beautiful sweater vest from Mom's collection. Dinner is still being made. Turkey, brisket, meatloaf, all the sides. The menorah is out, some pagan symbols are around, we've been watching science shows, shows about quantum physics and the supernatural, and atheist documentaries. Now Adam's Playstation is showing Futurama. Ideal.
Also, we watched Pacific Rim again last night. Mom hadn't seen it, but as she has always been a Godzilla fan, she appreciated all the kaiju themes.

Everything is truly going well. This may be the first Thanksgiving where Mom and I did not argue even a little. Especially now that we can discuss the autism and other neurological issues I've been having. She knows me so well, but now we can really get to understand my brain. Beautiful.

Also, according to today, Adam and I have been together for fourteen years. 14 years. Yes.
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Also, I think I had a seizure before waking up this morning. When I spoke with my mother, she said I sounded like I'd had a seizure. I am starting to... remember things. My brain feels haunted and full of kaleidoscope wilderness. I vaguely recall seeing Alicia. I vaguely recall seeing Amara, the way they struggled to keep my neurology stable. Amara, pale like alabaster, kept changing her eye and hair colors so I knew she was emotional.
I need to go do... the... you know, the post-seizure, the postictal things, the management, the getting better procedures. It has been a long long mind day. I did not know why I have been so tired. Luna in particular has been following me around, meowling like a queen calling her kitten. She has been licking me whenever she gets close. In that same vein, Rose has been trilling for my attention when I come into the bedroom, staring at me with very wide eyes. She begs me to pet and hug her, and now I realize why. Even Jupiter has been yowing at me when he sees me.
Luna is curled up at my feet now. When I go to have a shower, I will leave the bathroom door open just enough for her to come in, in case she wants to watch me.
Cats know. Cats always know.

I've been feeling randomly ill all day with fibromyalgia flares and allergies. And, now that I remember, seizure aftereffects.
brightrosefox: (Default)
Day after seizure with migraine:
Still working through recovery from seizure and migraine.
Allergies and fibromyalgia flare not helping.
I shall go read books and watch cartoons!

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