Photo Caption: From the creative LJ (Princess Leia and R2D2 in the basket of a hot air balloon).
I had two seizures this past week.
One took place in our apartment, on the couch. The other took place in the Emergency Room.
I can’t tell you what the seizures felt like…or what exactly happened…because I can’t remember them at all. I know that I bit my tongue (because it hurts). I know I foamed at the mouth (because Seth witnessed it and told me about it). I know I had an MRI of my head, but, again, I have no memory of it.
The timeline of what happened and when isn’t clear to me. I can only vaguely recall the back of the ambulance and its flashing lights illuminating the front of our apartment building. I remember my parents and two of my friends (LJ and Sarah) visiting me in the hospital. Ironically, I was placed in the same room that most of my inpatient cancer treatment was administered in last winter.
I’m a bit on edge—afraid that, even though I am now on anti-seizure medication, it’s only a matter of time before I seize again. The cause of the seizures? My anti-rejection medication. The same pills that have facilitated the engraftment of my donor’s bone marrow—and thus saved my life—have shaken me to my core.
I feel as though I have forgotten something vital…that I’ve left something unfinished.
My sense of time has been affected, too. I feel as though time is slipping through my fingers, faster than ever, and I can’t grab onto it. I can’t make it pause. I want it to slow down—if only for a moment—so I can catch my breath, so I can decide what to do next. I think I expected the transplant process to grant me some insight (i.e. what to do for a career when I’m given the okay to return to work and/or if I should go to graduate school). I’m still waiting for a nudge in the right direction.
Life is short and I want to make sure that mine counts; that I am of help to others, that I leave this world a better place than I found it.
We return to Boston this coming week for another check-up. Please, Dear Readers, continue to send love and light our way. You have been our strength throughout this process. We’d be lost without you.