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We are adapting to my anxiety and emotional bursts. I am shaking all the time and feel like a structure of thin sticks that can collapse anytime.
The brain is an interesting place, especially mine. Right now, my MRI scans are screaming ‘CLOTTT’.
You can google neurocysticercosis when you have the time. But the images will make you lose your appetite. So you must check it out!
My first epileptic seizure had an eventful entry. It happened when I was watching a horror flick! My husband only considered two choices: either I was possessed by a ghost or I was playing a prank. Sadly and scarily, it required a lot of medical attention.
Rushed to the ICU, the doctors surrounded me like fat kids around a cake and bombarded a series of questions.
‘Are you stressed?’
‘Oh, very stressed.’
‘Did you anytime fall on your head?’
‘Everyone who knows me, believes so!’
‘Did you sleep well last night’
‘No, my husband snored like a tractor!’
So tempted to blurt out these responses!
Well, in reality I was shattered and shocked. I was scared of myself, the jerks of head-turning seizures and loss of body control. The first five minutes of ICU are eye-opening in every way. You start loving everything about your life, its schedule, people, memories, food, all of it. Suddenly, the apron-horde around me left for a serious discussion and no visitor was allowed to see me. My only source of entertainment in those moments was the already-high drunkard glued to the next bed, tied with ropes. He sang songs and loved abusing the staff at random intervals.
With so much alone time to think, I was still digesting the situation. The staff stood far but cast quick glances at me every now and then. I could hear phrases and words ‘so young’, ‘epilepsy’… ‘asking for food’. Yeah, I was and I finished every bit of free patient food and ignored the drunkard who thought I demanded his plate.
I am going to be super fit in three months, my doctor tells me. But meanwhile, life is a struggle due to heavy drugs and brain malfunction.
Everyday things have become a challenge and I feel like I have aged 80 years. I never thought walking on the roads or crossing streets would require confidence or focused work. Sometimes, the road appears tilted, sometimes it appears loose like water. I fear that my movements are not symmetrical and that people on the street are judging me. Sometimes, I feel like I have fallen in a deep hole and can only hear the noises of the world far ahead of the tunnel. The other times, I feel like the epicenter of all the noise. Blaring horns pierce right through my head, just like the noisy MRI machine that sucks me in. A walk from my cubicle to office pantry and back, exhausts me. My head spins for minutes after I settle back in the chair.
Walking in a straight line can be such a challenge. I invariably gravitate towards the left and sometimes loose balance. My brain malfunctions are noticeable, as I fumble for steps and words at times. I wake up to body pains at odd hours and every day is a new pain. A new side-effect of the drug. Some days my knees feel like someone has drilled rods through them, some days I walk in and out of the same room several times to finish one chore. I feel like I am moving a lot, but achieving little.
Sometimes I catch him looking at me and wonder whether the doctor shared something I don’t know! We are all about lovely silences and tight hugs now. We are adapting to my anxiety and emotional bursts. I am shaking all the time and feel like a structure of thin sticks that can collapse anytime. I can’t order online food, am only allowed to walk within the society premises and supposed to be constantly with people.
That is why placing food order online to delete the cart, going alone on quiet walks and grabbing a plate of momos are my cheap thrills.
And it gets better.
Today my mom woke up to my abrupt phone call at 5 am. I called to convince her to watch a historical movie. I sang the title track to her.
Let us agree that my road to recovery is full of whacky behavior patterns.
If I miss you, I will find you.
And bug you.
Image via Pixabay
I write because basically I can't paint as vividly as I would like to. Anyway, both are quintessential attempts to portray my storm of a mind! read more...
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