Most stories start at the beginning. Mine starts at the beginning of one end. It’s before and after, upward and backward and everything else in between.
Flashback – February 2, 2009
As clouded as it was, it is a date that I will never forget. I didn’t notice the signs. I could not recollect the seizures. It’s a weather forecast foretold wrong. We have sunny skies, the weatherman says. The day rises and the sun is nowhere to be found.
It’s not until the tornado hits when we realize the enormity of it all. For me, this was the day I was diagnosed with epilepsy and the day that changed it all. The following is how it all began.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I close my eyes not because I want to, but because I can’t control it. A silent storm builds inside of me and an indescribable force holds me captive. An object of paralysis I become. Only whispers of agony escape my lips, so soft that no one can hear them. I’m caught in between two realities; the one that I choose to live by daily and the one that creeps in when least expected. The transition from one to the other is always blurred and moments of amnesia always follow. Where am I? Where will I end up? These are not pensive thoughts about the vast and prosperous future. These are questions directed at that unavoidable and camouflaged world. This was definitely unplanned. I would never seek a reality who restrains me from the surrounding world.
And once again….
Lighting strikes the brain. Stiffness overcomes the body and there is a forceful expiration of air from the lungs. Skeletal muscles begin to contract simultaneously. Teeth begin to grind on the tongue. Each second amps up the pain. The skin turns into a purplish-blue complexion. Whispers become audible moans. The mouth begins to foam and the throat begins to fill. Air cannot escape or come in. 30 seconds pass.
A rhythmic of convulsions are set into motion. The head and neck begin to shake. Arms and legs begin to jerk. A building up intensity causes the heart to beat faster and faster. Its forcefulness and duration are not certain. At least two minutes have passed.
The convulsions finally cease and are followed by a state of deep sleep. The whole body is now relaxed. Under different circumstances, I would appear to be sleeping peacefully. Consciousness slowly sets in and confusion replaces it. Yet, a strong desire to sleep begins again.
Where am I? I’m still at the learning stage of learning to live with epilepsy. Where will I end up? Hopefully, at the end of this neurological spectrum where I can find the solution to all of this.
I’m awake, yet asleep. I live knowing that an electrical storm can always form, but I live nonetheless. And that’s more than I could ask for.
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