Yesterday my dear friend Missy stayed with me after she was going to drop us all off because I had felt a sometimes-seizure-indicating tremor while we were out. So when I had the seizure I was not only safe at home, I was safe at home with Missy to take care of the FIVE children that were there. It inconveniently happened on a rare day that I was watching little Alex, who I used to watch all the time. I fell into a wall and got a black eye and bit my tongue all up.
I hate my situation so much. I have sole responsibility for the lives of my children and sometimes others' children too, and yet I can't always guarantee that I will be capable-- even conscious-- throughout my responsibility. I find myself wondering if having children was a smart decision. Every day they are in jeopardy because of my seizures. And then I get bummed out about it and sad and wonder if my seizures will get worse and worse or stay the same or get better. I'm sad that my seizures scare my kids and husband. And then my medication makes me spacey and I forget what I was worrying about. I know it could be much, much worse.
It's an odd and helpless feeling to have your own body fighting against you in this way-- I'm sure in any way.
One thing is for certain; I am blessed to have so many people who are willing to drop everything and help me when I need it.
|My eye from yesterday|
|My knees from the street in August|