Check out Fight Song by Rachel Platten on Amazon Music https://music.amazon.com/albums/B0189VVIC0?trackAsin=B0189VVN5W&ref=dm_sh_Zhm4CnYtvIwtS24DTqcZfvbkE
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Friday, September 15, 2017
Changing Seasons
I just realized that it's been 3 months since our last update. It's been a busy summer, and I've taken approximately 1,000 pictures. I'll spare you, and only hit the highlights.
First, Rachel got a tattoo. It means a lot to her, and she's so happy with it. She sees this as the foundation for a life story, all in little pieces. For someone with memory deficits, Rachel sees her tattoo(s) as a way to commemorate special times, and act as a reminder later on.
 |
| Puzzle piece tattoo |
A week or so after Rachel got her tattoo, Stewie got his first hot spot. We got him treated, and the vet gave us a cone to use. Sadly, Stewie could not tolerate the cone, so we bought a blow-up Kong collar. The World's Most Flexible Dog (TM) was able to reach the spot anyway. When the second hot spot showed up just a couple of inches from the first one, we decided it was time to buy a puppy onesie. Stewie looks a lot thinner with all the fur bound up. The hot spots both healed, and the hair is growing back.
 |
| Stewie's puppy onesie |
Since we've been working on letting Rachel do more of her own self-care, we bought a new med tray system, which she loves, and is easier for her to manage. She can fill as many as 31 days worth of meds, or just a few, at a time. Next we'll work on ordering refills and managing that part of the process.
 |
| New med tray system |
 |
| Nora the polar bear. |
 |
| View from the Umpqua Lighthouse |
Summer is almost over, and Rachel has decided she'd like to return to school, so she signed up for an art class at the community college, with plans to return to her degree program winter term. It took some effort, but Rachel was able to get registered for class, and order the text book. She ordered and paid for the book online, and opted to pick it up at the school book store a few days later. It so happens that those few days encompassed our coast trip, so today was the day to go get the book. I drove Rachel to school, but she took Stewie in and I waited in the car. She came back with the book, and we drove back home.
Once we were home, I realized that she had actually purchased the book she had in her hand instead up just picking up the one she'd pre-ordered. So, she had paid twice, and had one book. Oops. So, we loaded up again, and headed back out to the school. Rachel was very upset with herself, and I could see that she was very anxious. We were almost to the school when Rachel indicated that she wasn't feeling well, so I pulled into a parking lot, and she tried very hard not to have a panic attack, but she ended up having a short meltdown.
We're getting better at recognizing the difference between her panics and the seizures. We now have what we call the "go bag." It contains the magnet for her VNS, a vape pen, and rescue cannabis oil. We're also getting better at remembering to take it in the car. I was able to grab the bag, swipe the VNS in case it was a seizure, and put some oil in her mouth. A few minutes later she was able to focus and we continued on to the school. This time I went in with Rachel, and we got the book situation taken care of.
 |
| The "Go Bag." |
Sunday, June 25, 2017
The Best Laid Plans
 |
| Mt. Hood Forest Welcome Sign |
A few weeks ago, my husband came up with a wonderful, horrible idea. He proposed that we drive up into the nearby mountains, find a dark, quiet place to park, and look at the stars. He got really into the idea, checking moon cycles, and downloading a star chart app on his phone.
Finally, the big day came. We loaded up Rachel, Stewart, a blanket, pillow, jackets (it was 101 degrees during the day, but cooler in the mountains), bug spray, bottles of water, granola bars, towels, emergency meds and oils.
The drive up to the site Brett had pre-scouted took about an hour and a half. It was beautiful to drive along in the dusk, seeing the bats and birds hunting for the evening bugs. Once we turned off onto the forest service highway, we saw an owl, a fat little rabbit, and tons of bugs. Seriously, you should see my windshield. It's a bug graveyard.
We found our parking spot, tumbled out of the car, let Stewie take a break, and then I promptly stepped off the edge of the highway, overcorrected, and fell on my ass. Good thing it's well-padded; I didn't even bruise. Rachel spread out her blanket, plopped down her pillow, and just took it all in. There will be no photos of the stars, because 1) I'm a crap photographer, and 2) I was enjoying myself too much to worry about it.
 |
| Rachel sees the Milky Way for the first time |
The surface we were kneeling on was very rocky, and strewn with forest debris, so I grabbed the blanket out of the car, ready to lay it down for her, but she was pretty well settled into leaning against Brett, so I swiped the VNS and waited it out. As with all of her seizures of late, there was no panic, and even though she lost consciousness, she was able to be roused enough to get back into the car. Once we were sure she was stable, we continued on down the mountain, and onto the main highway.
We'd gone about 5 miles down the main highway, when Rachel indicated she'd be sick again, so Brett managed to find a wide spot on the shoulder, and this time Rachel stayed in the car, just opening the door. I got out to support her, in case another seizure started, but this time it was just the sick, so she was able to sit back up, have some water and a mint, and then we were on our way again. The rest of the ride home was just fine, and Rachel finally felt better.
This is maybe the second time in her entire life that Rachel has actually been motion sick enough to vomit. Thank goodness it was a good 3 hours since she'd taken her meds. By the time we got home, it was after 1 a.m., so Rachel brushed her teeth, took some oil, grabbed her dog, and crashed into bed. We have tentative plans to drive up to the local hiking/camping spot, and meet up with out-of-town family, and Rachel says she's up for it, but we'll see how the morning goes.
Monday, June 19, 2017
Change Is In The Air
If there's one thing we can count on when it comes to Rachel's seizures, it's their changeability. Just when we think we've got a handle on what to expect, something new takes place. The last couple of days have highlighted that for us, but it's not all bad.
Yesterday evening, Rachel took Stewie, and went to use the restroom. She closed the door, which isn't abnormal, but since we got the new carpet, the door makes a much tighter seal, and it's harder to hear if she calls out. Also, we had the air conditioner running, and the TV on. We didn't hear anything unusual, and after a few minutes Rachel opened the door, and sort of stumbled out. She was slurry, and indicated she'd had a seizure, so we took her to her room to lie down. Fortunately, the seizure was a partial, she didn't fall, and wasn't injured in any way.
When she got up, we asked Rachel what had happened, and if she'd alerted Stewie to the seizure. She said she didn't say "help," but when the seizure started he became agitated, and went to the door, but it was shut all the way, so he couldn't open it. She didn't see if he tried to pull the alarm. We didn't hear anything at all. Usually we would hear his claws on the floor or door, or his efforts to pull the alarm on the tub. We discovered later that the alarm has become very hard to pull, so may be rusted inside, and needs to be replaced. So, no closing the door all the way until we are assured Stewie can either pull the alarm, or open the door. All in all, she was unharmed, and didn't experience any panic, or we would have heard her screaming and crying.
This evening we were sitting in the living room, and Rachel indicated that she wasn't feeling well, and then said, "Yup, I'm going down." That was an unusual presence of mind for Rachel, and the first time she's ever said anything like that. The seizure progressed as they usually do, we swiped the VNS, and comforted her until it ended, and once again there was no panic at all, and her recovery was swift. We have often said that the worst part of Rachel's condition is the anxiety that goes along with it. These last two seizures have given us a lot of hope that she may be overcoming that debilitating reaction to seizures.
We made the increase in her cannabis dosage a couple of weeks ago, and since then Rachel has been sleeping less, able to stay up most days without a nap, and generally more willing to be up and about. While all of this is wonderful, and we certainly hope that it will continue, we always remember that it could all change with the very next seizure. We are always in a state of wary readiness, and each seizure is a unique experience.
In the meantime, we'll be doing a round-up of all the alarms, checking each one for ease of use, and continuing to work on training, and ramping up the seizure response training that Rachel has slacked off on. I've been making sure she takes her oils each day, and now I have to make sure she's doing response training at least a few times a week, no matter how much she complains. Rachel says she feels too conspicuous doing seizure simulations in public, but I remind her that's the point...that people will notice if something happens.
We have a neuro visit next month, and we'll decide then whether to attempt a minor reduction of the benzo she's been on for about 8 years. Now that the anxiety is better controlled, we might be able to make that reduction without a major relapse. As usual, any change that's made will be low and slow. We still have a long way to go with her oils, so we'll make another small increase before any other changes, and monitor the situation.
Here's hoping that future changes are in the positive column, and not the negative. We've lived this life for 14 years, and still feel like we're learning on the job. We still make mistakes, and don't always anticipate what problems might occur. What we have going for us is a great kid who wants a better life.
Yesterday evening, Rachel took Stewie, and went to use the restroom. She closed the door, which isn't abnormal, but since we got the new carpet, the door makes a much tighter seal, and it's harder to hear if she calls out. Also, we had the air conditioner running, and the TV on. We didn't hear anything unusual, and after a few minutes Rachel opened the door, and sort of stumbled out. She was slurry, and indicated she'd had a seizure, so we took her to her room to lie down. Fortunately, the seizure was a partial, she didn't fall, and wasn't injured in any way.
When she got up, we asked Rachel what had happened, and if she'd alerted Stewie to the seizure. She said she didn't say "help," but when the seizure started he became agitated, and went to the door, but it was shut all the way, so he couldn't open it. She didn't see if he tried to pull the alarm. We didn't hear anything at all. Usually we would hear his claws on the floor or door, or his efforts to pull the alarm on the tub. We discovered later that the alarm has become very hard to pull, so may be rusted inside, and needs to be replaced. So, no closing the door all the way until we are assured Stewie can either pull the alarm, or open the door. All in all, she was unharmed, and didn't experience any panic, or we would have heard her screaming and crying.
This evening we were sitting in the living room, and Rachel indicated that she wasn't feeling well, and then said, "Yup, I'm going down." That was an unusual presence of mind for Rachel, and the first time she's ever said anything like that. The seizure progressed as they usually do, we swiped the VNS, and comforted her until it ended, and once again there was no panic at all, and her recovery was swift. We have often said that the worst part of Rachel's condition is the anxiety that goes along with it. These last two seizures have given us a lot of hope that she may be overcoming that debilitating reaction to seizures.
We made the increase in her cannabis dosage a couple of weeks ago, and since then Rachel has been sleeping less, able to stay up most days without a nap, and generally more willing to be up and about. While all of this is wonderful, and we certainly hope that it will continue, we always remember that it could all change with the very next seizure. We are always in a state of wary readiness, and each seizure is a unique experience.
In the meantime, we'll be doing a round-up of all the alarms, checking each one for ease of use, and continuing to work on training, and ramping up the seizure response training that Rachel has slacked off on. I've been making sure she takes her oils each day, and now I have to make sure she's doing response training at least a few times a week, no matter how much she complains. Rachel says she feels too conspicuous doing seizure simulations in public, but I remind her that's the point...that people will notice if something happens.
We have a neuro visit next month, and we'll decide then whether to attempt a minor reduction of the benzo she's been on for about 8 years. Now that the anxiety is better controlled, we might be able to make that reduction without a major relapse. As usual, any change that's made will be low and slow. We still have a long way to go with her oils, so we'll make another small increase before any other changes, and monitor the situation.
Here's hoping that future changes are in the positive column, and not the negative. We've lived this life for 14 years, and still feel like we're learning on the job. We still make mistakes, and don't always anticipate what problems might occur. What we have going for us is a great kid who wants a better life.
Friday, May 26, 2017
High Doesn't Have To Be Toxic
My intention is to use this forum to share our family's personal experience with epilepsy, including treatment options, tests, evaluations, reactions, and outcomes. Our choices and options may not be right for anybody else, and every person must make the best decisions they can for themselves and their kids.
All of that to lead up to this: We have a morbid sense of humor. We're irreverent, snarky, probably swear too much, and unless things are very serious, we try to make something light out of things that might be considered heavy by some.
Lately, we have been considering what we can do to improve seizure control for Rachel, and reduce her chronic anxiety. We have been dosing her cannabis oils in very small amounts, and I knew that it would be more helpful to increase those doses, so we consulted with our oil maker, who confirmed that Rachel's dose is incredibly low, and that we should probably work on titrating up. Rachel uses fully activated forms of THC and CBD oils, which means that if she hasn't acclimated to a particular dose, she can experience a "high." We have been so conservative with her treatment that it had never happened, and I admit to being concerned about how she would handle it, in the event of an "overdose."
Well, we increased the dose marginally yesterday, with no trouble at all. This morning Rachel dosed herself, and the syringe slipped a little bit, so she got another 1/10th ml more than usual...effectively doubling the dose she was at two days ago. She had her morning nap as usual, and when she got up still looked really tired to me, with slightly puffy eyelids. She said she felt heavy and slow, but was SO relaxed, and her anxiety level (on a good day it's 4-5) was practically non-existent. She was calm, happy, and relaxed, but was having some difficulty compiling her thoughts, so she went to lay back down for a bit.
So, that's it. Rachel was "high" on cannabis for the first time. She has been stoned on prescribed sedatives to the point that she couldn't think or speak straight, walk in a straight line, or stay awake at all. She's been toxic on epilepsy medications, which made her joints ache, gave her double vision, and caused nausea to the point of vomiting. I will take this over any of that, any day of the week. This will only last a few hours, and we can easily adjust her dosage from here, and know that she is tolerating her treatment well.
Cannabis treatment is not for everyone, but unlike the majority of her other medications, an overdose is not fatal, and rather than being worried, we were giggling about how she was feeling, and how content Rachel was to just sit with the dog in her lap, and play on her phone. We are so grateful that we have had the opportunity to give cannabis a chance, and we are nowhere near ready to give up on it. I'm only sorry that we waited as long as we did before getting started.
All of that to lead up to this: We have a morbid sense of humor. We're irreverent, snarky, probably swear too much, and unless things are very serious, we try to make something light out of things that might be considered heavy by some.
Lately, we have been considering what we can do to improve seizure control for Rachel, and reduce her chronic anxiety. We have been dosing her cannabis oils in very small amounts, and I knew that it would be more helpful to increase those doses, so we consulted with our oil maker, who confirmed that Rachel's dose is incredibly low, and that we should probably work on titrating up. Rachel uses fully activated forms of THC and CBD oils, which means that if she hasn't acclimated to a particular dose, she can experience a "high." We have been so conservative with her treatment that it had never happened, and I admit to being concerned about how she would handle it, in the event of an "overdose."
Well, we increased the dose marginally yesterday, with no trouble at all. This morning Rachel dosed herself, and the syringe slipped a little bit, so she got another 1/10th ml more than usual...effectively doubling the dose she was at two days ago. She had her morning nap as usual, and when she got up still looked really tired to me, with slightly puffy eyelids. She said she felt heavy and slow, but was SO relaxed, and her anxiety level (on a good day it's 4-5) was practically non-existent. She was calm, happy, and relaxed, but was having some difficulty compiling her thoughts, so she went to lay back down for a bit.
So, that's it. Rachel was "high" on cannabis for the first time. She has been stoned on prescribed sedatives to the point that she couldn't think or speak straight, walk in a straight line, or stay awake at all. She's been toxic on epilepsy medications, which made her joints ache, gave her double vision, and caused nausea to the point of vomiting. I will take this over any of that, any day of the week. This will only last a few hours, and we can easily adjust her dosage from here, and know that she is tolerating her treatment well.
Cannabis treatment is not for everyone, but unlike the majority of her other medications, an overdose is not fatal, and rather than being worried, we were giggling about how she was feeling, and how content Rachel was to just sit with the dog in her lap, and play on her phone. We are so grateful that we have had the opportunity to give cannabis a chance, and we are nowhere near ready to give up on it. I'm only sorry that we waited as long as we did before getting started.
 |
| A syringe of one of Rachel's cannabis oils. A single dose is 3/10 of ml. |
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Adulting Can Be Daunting
 | |||
| Soo booorrreeddduh! |
Yesterday, our local epilepsy run/walk committee was holding an informal meeting at the Saturday market, and I invited Rachel to go along, which she usually enjoys. She declined, so I took Stewie with me, so he could get some exercise and fresh air. When I got back, Brett told me that Rachel's friend had called, and invited Rachel to go out and do something with her. Rachel also declined that outing.
Today Brett and I were both ready to order our new glasses, so we loaded up the kids, and made our way to Walmart. I decided that Rachel isn't really inclined to do much if we don't expect her to. We fully respect her decision to stay in if she's not feeling well, etc., but both of the outings she declined are things she usually enjoys very much, and we're afraid that staying in, and doing nothing but playing video games is too isolating, and she needs to do more.
I wrote a short list of groceries, items with which I know Rachel is well familiar, and handed it off to her, as Brett and I started shopping for frames. There was a short bout of sputtering, and self-doubt, but I reminded her that she is quite familiar with the layout of this store, she had her alarm, phone, dog, and emergency ID tag, and I fully expected that she was more than capable of completing this task. Within 15 minutes, Rachel was back, with every item on the list, pink-faced, but proud of herself. I was proud of Brett and myself, because we didn't check our watches or phones even once.
Two years ago, a regular shopping trip, at my side, would have been too much. A year ago, attempting to do this much shopping on her own would have meant a nap after we got home, and then a very quiet evening. Today, she got it done, and then sat and played her game while she waited for us to complete our transaction. Once my part was finished, I grabbed the cart and did the produce shopping (I'm picky, so I didn't expect her to do that part), and then I checked out the groceries, and we all went home.
Now, I know this doesn't sound like a big deal to most of you, but for Rachel, and for us, this was huge. The only time she usually goes off on her own is when she wants to shop for a video game, or something for herself. Rachel hasn't ever been sent off on her own to do shopping for the family, while using a list. She also had to visit the OTC section and find a specific brand and strength of a vitamin supplement she takes. She did a great job in both areas, and what she doesn't know is that from now on we'll be splitting the shopping list, and meeting in the middle. ;)
Adulting is sometimes hard for those of us who are neuro-typical. For the atypical it can be downright daunting to do daily self-care tasks. It's time for us to believe that Rachel has the ability, but we may need to provide the motivation until she believes it, too.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
E-day Preppers
In the wake of seizure #somethinginthethousands, my mind trips over all the weird times, places and situations in which we've dealt with seizures, and all of the random stuff that happens at the same time.
We've had seizures in the car, of course, and those times have been in the drive-thru of the pharmacy, a fast food restaurant, countless parking lots, while driving 70+ mph in the ultra-fast lane, and many other times.
There have been seizures, and debilitating panic attacks, in grocery stores, schools, motorcycle shops, malls, a body piercing parlor, while on hikes, and the dentist's office. Surprisingly, we haven't had one at a doctor's office yet.
In the beginning of our seizure journey, when Rachel was still having a lot of tonic/clonics, she would wet herself. That doesn't happen anymore, but now whenever she has a seizure, particularly if it's a big one I experience a sudden, and difficult to control, urge to use the restroom. I have IBS-D, and on any given day can be found bee-lining to the bathroom. There is a definite connection between my anxiety level, and my touchy gut. It's a pretty lousy feeling to know that when my daughter needs me most, my gut is insisting on bugging out.
These are things that I think a lot of caregivers don't really talk about, but which are very real. We are just humans. We're not supernatural heroes. We do the best we can for those who depend on us, but we're fallible, and sometimes feeble, ourselves. It can be a juggling act, meeting the needs of our loved ones, and taking care of ourselves at the same time.
I also have rheumatoid autoimmune disease. My condition is good for someone diagnosed over 20 years ago. However, I do have damage, and limitations on what I can physically manage. Rachel is an adult, and about the same size I am. If she collapses, I can manage to help her get to the floor without injury. I can usually get her rolled onto her side during a seizure, but sometimes she fights me, and then she'll begin to choke on saliva, so I struggle to turn her and keep her there. If she's sitting upright in a chair, we sometimes have to restrain her, in order to keep Rachel from getting up and walking off. She's strong, and during a seizure doesn't have the brakes she does while lucid. Rachel has scratched my cornea, my arms, and legs during seizures, and will sometimes get a grip on my wrist which hurts. Trying to restrain her, and keep her from getting a grip on me can be a challenge. We've had to peel her fingers off of Stewie's paw, because she was gripping him so hard.
Rachel will sometimes drool heavily during seizures and panic attacks. It seems like gallons sometimes. I keep a small towel in the car, and the first thing we do when she indicates a seizure is grab a towel. There was a time I considered keeping a spare shirt in the car, but never got around to it. She has soaked herself many times. She's always dismayed by it when she's herself again, and we've had to leave someplace sooner than intended, or turn around the car, and go back home for clean clothes, before carrying on with our errands for the day.
We've cancelled plans so many times I can't count them all. We've arrived late, or left early, for many events. Rachel didn't get to walk at her high school graduation because the day got too long, and she was totally overwhelmed by the time they were finally lining up the graduates. That was heartbreaking for all of us, but asking her to push herself would have likely just resulted in a massive panic attack and/or seizure.
Friends and family are always understanding and kind, but we always feel bad when we have to cancel at the last minute, and with epilepsy it's always the last minute. There's very rarely any sort of build-up that warns us of an impending problem. It's not like coming down with a cold. You're dressed, have keys in hand, or actually already in the car, and the seizure hits. If it's a small one, we can usually carry on. If it's a big one, and especially if we have to use a rescue med, she'll be too tired, and knocked out, to go anywhere. There have been times that we've had to let her sleep off part of it in the car, before she would be alert and physically stable enough to walk into the house.
This is definitely a very short list of the reality of our epilepsy experience. I think it is the very random nature of the condition that really makes it difficult. There are no two seizures or situations that are the same. At any given time, there can be a new symptom, a new trigger, or a new manifestation. We never know what will happen next. We are not the type of people who flourish under stress. We all prefer a routine, and epilepsy is anything but. We have been forced to adapt to a very random, and sometimes intensely scary, life.
The best thing we can do is just always be sure that we have on hand all of the items we might need for the next seizure. I always have a magnet for the VNS, a vape pen, a towel, and a dose of cannabis oil. We now keep a screw driver next to the door of Rachel's room. There is a level of vigilance that never goes away. It can be exhausting, and yet the anxiety can keep us awake, when what we need most is sleep. I have learned to sleep with the static of the video monitor next to my head.
I sometimes wonder if I'll ever fully adapt to being the caregiver of someone with epilepsy, but I also never want to accept that it won't get better. I fight the reality that this is how it will always be for us.
We've had seizures in the car, of course, and those times have been in the drive-thru of the pharmacy, a fast food restaurant, countless parking lots, while driving 70+ mph in the ultra-fast lane, and many other times.
There have been seizures, and debilitating panic attacks, in grocery stores, schools, motorcycle shops, malls, a body piercing parlor, while on hikes, and the dentist's office. Surprisingly, we haven't had one at a doctor's office yet.
In the beginning of our seizure journey, when Rachel was still having a lot of tonic/clonics, she would wet herself. That doesn't happen anymore, but now whenever she has a seizure, particularly if it's a big one I experience a sudden, and difficult to control, urge to use the restroom. I have IBS-D, and on any given day can be found bee-lining to the bathroom. There is a definite connection between my anxiety level, and my touchy gut. It's a pretty lousy feeling to know that when my daughter needs me most, my gut is insisting on bugging out.
These are things that I think a lot of caregivers don't really talk about, but which are very real. We are just humans. We're not supernatural heroes. We do the best we can for those who depend on us, but we're fallible, and sometimes feeble, ourselves. It can be a juggling act, meeting the needs of our loved ones, and taking care of ourselves at the same time.
I also have rheumatoid autoimmune disease. My condition is good for someone diagnosed over 20 years ago. However, I do have damage, and limitations on what I can physically manage. Rachel is an adult, and about the same size I am. If she collapses, I can manage to help her get to the floor without injury. I can usually get her rolled onto her side during a seizure, but sometimes she fights me, and then she'll begin to choke on saliva, so I struggle to turn her and keep her there. If she's sitting upright in a chair, we sometimes have to restrain her, in order to keep Rachel from getting up and walking off. She's strong, and during a seizure doesn't have the brakes she does while lucid. Rachel has scratched my cornea, my arms, and legs during seizures, and will sometimes get a grip on my wrist which hurts. Trying to restrain her, and keep her from getting a grip on me can be a challenge. We've had to peel her fingers off of Stewie's paw, because she was gripping him so hard.
Rachel will sometimes drool heavily during seizures and panic attacks. It seems like gallons sometimes. I keep a small towel in the car, and the first thing we do when she indicates a seizure is grab a towel. There was a time I considered keeping a spare shirt in the car, but never got around to it. She has soaked herself many times. She's always dismayed by it when she's herself again, and we've had to leave someplace sooner than intended, or turn around the car, and go back home for clean clothes, before carrying on with our errands for the day.
We've cancelled plans so many times I can't count them all. We've arrived late, or left early, for many events. Rachel didn't get to walk at her high school graduation because the day got too long, and she was totally overwhelmed by the time they were finally lining up the graduates. That was heartbreaking for all of us, but asking her to push herself would have likely just resulted in a massive panic attack and/or seizure.
Friends and family are always understanding and kind, but we always feel bad when we have to cancel at the last minute, and with epilepsy it's always the last minute. There's very rarely any sort of build-up that warns us of an impending problem. It's not like coming down with a cold. You're dressed, have keys in hand, or actually already in the car, and the seizure hits. If it's a small one, we can usually carry on. If it's a big one, and especially if we have to use a rescue med, she'll be too tired, and knocked out, to go anywhere. There have been times that we've had to let her sleep off part of it in the car, before she would be alert and physically stable enough to walk into the house.
This is definitely a very short list of the reality of our epilepsy experience. I think it is the very random nature of the condition that really makes it difficult. There are no two seizures or situations that are the same. At any given time, there can be a new symptom, a new trigger, or a new manifestation. We never know what will happen next. We are not the type of people who flourish under stress. We all prefer a routine, and epilepsy is anything but. We have been forced to adapt to a very random, and sometimes intensely scary, life.
The best thing we can do is just always be sure that we have on hand all of the items we might need for the next seizure. I always have a magnet for the VNS, a vape pen, a towel, and a dose of cannabis oil. We now keep a screw driver next to the door of Rachel's room. There is a level of vigilance that never goes away. It can be exhausting, and yet the anxiety can keep us awake, when what we need most is sleep. I have learned to sleep with the static of the video monitor next to my head.
I sometimes wonder if I'll ever fully adapt to being the caregiver of someone with epilepsy, but I also never want to accept that it won't get better. I fight the reality that this is how it will always be for us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)