So, turns out I have seizures. It really sucks.
Let’s be honest, I could end this post here, but that’s hardly satisfactory venting. The whole point of this blog is to get stuff out of my system, even if it’s going to be stuck there for the foreseeable future. And maybe get myself to laugh at my problems rather than wallow in them (hence the name of the blog). I know that’s sort of a weird coping mechanism, but it’s the only one I’ve got that actually halfway works, so I’m sticking with it (as I go back to edit this, I think I achieved more wallowing than laughing this time around, but whatever, it’s my blog and I can be hypocritical whenever I like).
As you might’ve guessed by the name of this blog, I’ve had uncontrollable muscular seizing for some time. However, we initially thought this was just leftover nerve damage from my tethered spinal cord. My twitching began shortly after they went in and snip-snipped my spinal tether, so, being a sane person who believes in logic, I connected the two. And, as far as I can tell, there is some connection. The low-key twitching and bizarre involuntary contortions my body gets up to (I’m practically a mobile one-man interpretive dance group, complete with “reaching for the sky” motions and what might qualify as chicken dancing) are probably just nerve damage doing what nerve damage does. However, it turns out the really intense episodes of twitching which I was calling ‘nerve attacks,” for lack of a better word (Nerve Attack, incidentally, is the name I’ve proposed for my one-man interpretive dance band), are actually very likely just seizures. I had some very vague worries about the possibility of this—collapsing writhing to the floor hardly counts as just twitching—but I dismissed them as paranoia. I’m an incredibly paranoid person, which I think is understandable when a small birthmark on my lower back turned out to be a harbinger of being potentially crippled, so I try not to take too many of my misgivings too seriously (otherwise I’d be rushing to the ER every other day for a heart attack).
Lo and behold, though, when I went into my EEG two days ago, sleep-deprived as ordered and firmly believing the test would just being crossing out a remote possibility just to be on the safe side, they put me under a strobe light and my muscles immediately began breaking down a funky beat. The tech did a very good job (the guy doing the test, not the strobe light, though I guess it performed admirably, too, being very flashy), shutting off the light after only a very brief out of testing, but the whole ordeal left my nerves fried as heck. I’ve since been breaking down in other ways, spending most of my time laying around unable to do much of anything aside from try not to have yet another seizure.
I’ll be honest, seizures feel like one life-crippling diagnosis too many; though, admittedly, I may not actually get diagnosed, because my data’s all going to the brilliant neurologist who watched me collapse repeatedly and told me I was perfectly normal. She also didn’t catch me any of the three times I fell, because, naturally, when a sickly sixteen-year-old collapses face first onto the metal side of a mile-hile hospital bed inches away from you, you don’t try to catch him. I mean, why would you? You’re just a trained medical professional with arms.
Phew, quite a lot of sarcasm going on here. You can tell I might be a little frustrated right now.
In retrospect, I really should’ve seriously suspected I had seizures earlier. Once again, I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t actually bothering to take them very seriously. But, I mean, I had a seizure-like episode once while watching the (very flashy) Big Bang Theory theme song in a highly fatigued state. It’s so easy to pin everything on nerve damage, though, and arguably more comforting to do so. I mean, I’m on medication for nerve damage, and we have ways and means of making nerve damage calm down. Seizures… That’s a whole new wild frontier, there. And, honestly, with my catastrophic brain fog, drowsiness-inducing nerve medication, and rampant tunnel vision, I’d really rather not take any brain-slowing seizure meds. It’s seizure meds that slow your brain down, right? I think so.
But what can you do? Just gotta keep pinning your hopes on tomorrow. I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’ll control my legs better tomorrow, I’ll have less seizures tomorrow, I’ll finally be well enough to do my vital physical therapy tomorrow… I’ll be honest, though, guys, my tomorrow keeps routinely sucking. Routinely Sucking Tomorrow, there’s another, especially bad band name right there.
That’s all I’ve got to say for now. I’ll admit, I’d be cooler with developments like these if I was an apathetic person who didn’t especially want to do anything with my life, but I’ve got a story in the works, a YouTube channel to run, an online roleplay to build someday, and an online episodic sci-fi serial to write. Still, there’s always tomorrow, right?