Day 79 Another Seizure

Day 79 was a relatively good day, with nothing out of the ordinary happening most of the day. We had guests for dinner. Scott grilled up hamburgers and we enjoyed ourselves. We talked of fishing in Southeast Alaska once again. Half dreaming, half scheming, the conversation turned to if we might ever be able to afford to buy a fishing boat and return to Juneau, if only for a short season each year. This could be the answer. He seemed very convinced. 

Those who know me well, will know that this in no way, is the answer for me. Scott knows that too. But he pressed on, teasing me with how we could live that life, I could see all my Alaska friends, that I would get used to sleeping on a boat. I cringed. NO! I don't want to go back to Alaska and fish for a living. No. I don't want to give up all I have going here to be cold and wet even if it is only 5 weeks in the summer! I know... it's so selfish.

Have you ever done it? Think Deadliest Catch, minus the smoking captains and winter. A weekend..yes. A whole season...not a chance. We went over the pros and cons like adults, sort of. I finally gave in and told him if he could come up with a way to buy a boat, that would not derail our current plans to build a successful business and buy a home here, I'd support him doing it, but I would not go.

Our conversations often end in laughter. It's one of the greatest blessings of being married to this man. He ALWAYS makes me laugh. I said I didn't want to be the "crusher of dreams"  so I wished him well and said, "since you only live once, you do what you gotta do." He told me I'm not a dream crusher, I'm a dream maker and  he would stay here for me. There was a hint of somethings sarcastic I can't quite remember and we both laughed it off.

He stood up, kissed me, and we went to the living room. He poked his head in to tell our girl it was time for bed. He then turned to me, with that look in his eye and said something I couldn't understand. My heart began racing, my palms immediately went clammy. A rush of fear swept over me. I told him, "Honey, you're having another seizure." He shook his head in agreement and went to the sofa to sit. I said, "Do you want..." He immediately shook his head and said,"No! I'm okay. Just sit dakfeljkad." He looked confused. Shook his head no again and looked up at me with eyes that said, "I know what is happening, but I can't speak." He kept saying, "No, no. It's okay. I'm okay. Don't call." He didn't want me to call the ambulance again.

I sat with him for a moment, got up and asked him if he wanted me to call anyone. He said no. He grabbed my hand. I burst into tears. This time, looking right into my eyes, he told me he was fine. "I know it's a.." pointed to his head and said, "that thing." I asked him if he wanted to write and he nodded yes. I gave him a pad of paper and pen. He could not think of what to write. This went on for a few minutes. He kept staring at my eyes and was finally able to articulate that he could keep communicating as long as he could keep my gaze. He was able to talk to me in ways he couldn't the first time this happened. I found hope in that.

After 78 days seizure and symptom free, day 79 brought us back to fearing the worst. Why? We have no idea. He is taking anti-seizure mediation twice a day, every day. He's been feeling great simply no symptoms other than insomnia. Today's seizure was different than the first. It didn't last as long, he could still speak and understand, was more aware, and he never lost consciousness. He regained his speech after about an hour. Nothing like the first time, but the clock starts again. We were almost to 90days which would have brought with it a release to drive and the ability to do all normal things again. But now, we have to start over. I am logging what happened so we have a record to tell the doctor. Maybe we will be going back to the neurosurgeon sooner than we thought. We still had a few more weeks, with a scheduled appointment on June 2.

We need more research and less complacency. It's funny how you can be tricked into thinking everything is fine...even when it's not. Afterward, Scott went and laid down on the bed. We held each other tight. I knelt down and said a prayer for him to be strong, to be comforted, and not to have another seizure. That was a little after 10pm. He is still sleeping now, while I keep watch and write. I know we must press on and stay strong. I know there is a plan for all of this. The only thing I know for sure is it doesn't include a fishing boat. Not for right now, at least.