Well, I made it to Halifax and back, and I lived to talk about it.
But let me tell you, I almost could have been NOT able to be writing this blog.
Let's start at the beginning though and explain a little history.
My doctor had suggested that I should increase my Cesamet by taking the extra 1 mg a day or so before my departure date to help boost my pain tolerance for the trip. And of course I would be taking that extra 1 mg each day while we were in "travel status" so he wanted me to then wean myself off the higher dose slowly by reducing it gradually when I returned -- in .5 mg increments to avoid the withdrawal symptoms I had suffered on previous occasions when I had taken the higher dose for several consecutive days.
That was the plan.
I altered it slightly. I only took an extra .5 mg two days before our departure date and I started taking the extra 1 mg the day before we left; my plan was to continue taking the extra 1 mg until the day of our return on October 6th.
Thursday, October 1st was a stressful day for me, as documented below.
Friday, October 2nd was a very long, stressful, day. What I didn't include in the post for that date was that once we arrived at the wedding home, I met a very busy house full of wonderful new people who were in full-fledged party mode. They were also in a state of pre-wedding jitters and there was an air of excitability that I could have done without. I was very tired and should have exchanged enough pleasantries to be polite and then excused myself, given my known limitations. But I didn't do that. I sat at the table and I partook and I enjoyed the socialization. Over the course of the evening, I consumed a bottle of wine. I was able to push myself like that because I take Cesamet. But I should not have consumed a full bottle of wine because I take Cesamet. A glass or two OK, but not a bottle. The evening ended at 1:00am. I had difficulty going to sleep because the venue for the wedding reception had been moved to a considerable distance further than was originally indicated. This had significant ramifications for me because John was the Best Man and was part of the wedding party, which meant that I would be on my own to drive 45 minutes through roads that reminded me of driving through the BC Rockies! I spent a great amount of time mentally fretting about the matter.
Saturday, October 3rd of course was another long day and turned out to be stressful again for me. You'd have thought I was the bride! I was trying to stay back from everything and I did but the house was abuzz with activity. The women left by 8:30am for hair appointments, instructing the men to be out of the house by 11:00am. But by the time the women left, it was determined that I would drive the bridal party between venues! OK. At least I wouldn't be driving the BC Rockie-like roads alone! So that left me fretting the rest of the morning. My stress level was increasing as the day went on. I tried to remove myself from the hub-bub but it was everywhere. I took a Codeine Contin because my hips were already quite painful by mid-day, and the wedding wasn't until 3:00pm. I would be wearing borrowed shoes that were comfortable but not what my feet are used to. The wedding was beautiful. By the time we arrived at the reception hall, where it turned out we were standing for some time, my hips were screaming in pain. I kept finding somewhere to sit while we waited for dinner. I had noticed that the chairs around the dinner table were not very comfortable so I had scrounged about to find something to cushion the seat for me, which I succeeded in doing. My stress level continued to increase because of the environment (noisy; can't hear anyone because everyone is talking). We toasted the bride and groom with a glass of champagne. By the time we sat down for dinner, I should have been calling it a day. But again, I didn't. I kept on trucking. Dinner was stretched from 7:00pm to 12:00pm, over which time I again had several glasses of wine, along with several glasses of water. I did not partake of the food, other than bread (many pieces). We knew ahead of time that the menu was all foods that I would not eat so I had made sure that I had eaten before I left the house. Again, the only reason I was physically able to last this long was because I'm taking Cesament. We arrived back at the house by 1:00am and went immediately to bed.
Sunday, October 4th at 6:00am I woke for my usual pee break. Nothing unusual about that. Except I really didn't want to be awake. So, in my half-wake state, I got up and tried to find my way to the washroom in the dark, in a strange home, trying not to disturb anyone else in the house, and hoping I didn't knock anything over with my outstretched arms as I groped my way through to the washroom. I came to semi-consciousness in the final throes of convulsing, laying on my back on the bathroom floor, in a pool of urine. Initially, I didn't know what was happening or where I was. I located my glasses and put them on. I looked at my watch. It was 6:20am. Twenty minutes had passed since I left the bedroom. I came to again laying on the floor with my glasses in a different place beside me. I sat up and rested against the wall, but could not move further. I started crying, and I called for help but I was too weak for anyone to have heard me. Eventually, I pushed myself toward the toilet where I managed to get up and finish my business. I used my pajama bottoms to clean up as best I could (I was horrified that there was urine on the floor that needed to be cleaned but I knew that I could not take care of it properly). I made my way back to the bedroom, fell onto the bed, and alerted John to the news of what had just happened.
"I just had a seizure." It was 6:40am
Of course John was up in a flash. We've been together since 1995 and he's never had to deal with this. I am an epileptic, but it's never even been a concern. I haven't had a seizure since 1988. What the hell was going on?
I told him that my head really hurt and I was concerned because I must have hit it very hard and after what happened to Natasha Richardson, I didn't want to ignore the injury. So we should go to the hospital. It didn't take long before the entire household was up and involved and concerned, of course. The groom became the chosen one to make the 40 minute drive to the nearest hospital. I was bundled up, carefully placed in the car with John beside me, and off we went. It was 7:00am
By the time we arrived at the hospital, I had begun to vomit and my neck was very stiff. We were quickly ushered in and a neck brace was slapped on me. I was checked out neurologically (all appeared OK); an X-ray was done (no broken bones in the head or neck); and they ended up having to take a CT Scan because I kept vomiting (it too showed all OK). They also did bloodwork which indicated low levels in a few areas which the doctor wants followed up by my doctor to see if the levels come up once the "trauma" is over. Then he finally paid attention to the back of my head which hurt like hell. "Oh, yeh, you need stitches," he says. And he proceeded to shave the back of my head, place three stitches down the middle of my head, and then put a pretty bow back there. "Leave the stitches in for ten days," he says. (Do you know how dirty my hair will be in ten days' time?)
Before leaving the hospital, the doctor instructed my husband that I was to be awakened every two hours for the next 24 hours and it would not just do to wake me up. Nooooooo, I would have to answer a series a questions. (My name; where I was; the date; the usual post-concussion stuff, etc) We went back to the house and I rested (with two-hour wake-ups). I offered to write out the answers for them and post them on my pillow, since it didn't sound like they would be able to remember who I was, where I was, or what date it was. But they insisted they would be asking me every two hours anyway.
Monday, October 5th
This was a much better day, in the scheme of things. I awoke very sore (and very tired, with having been wakened every two hours all night long). By now the bruises were really surfacing: my left hip is bruised the entire width of the hip (the photo below was taken on October 5th but doesn't do my hip justice; the bruises are much uglier today);
my left shoulder is bruised; my right shoulder has an abrasion; my right hip is lightly bruised; my right elbow is bruised. My shoulders are sore from left to right (a common phenomenon following a seizure). The bride was able to reconstruct what happened for me by "following the evidence" -- it would seem that as I lost consciousness, I reached for a towel that was hanging on the wall rack in front of me, my head went backwards and hit the door frame as I went down, slicing the back of my head and scraping my right shoulder on the door jamb in the process. The other miscellaneous bruises would have come from the seizing activity against the floor and/or door frame.
The doctor telephoned to find out how I was doing, which I thought was rather nice of him. I don't think that kind of thing happens here in Ontario following an ER visit by a tourist, does it?
Tuesday, October 6th
Finally, we flew home (did I mention how much walking there is at the Halifax airport?) Yet another long, tiring day. My little chickadee was really glad when I got home and she saw for herself that I really was OK. Once home, I took a nice long, relaxing, bath before crawling into my own bed. I don't think anything was ever so welcome! My bruises have really started to surface now.
Wednesday, October 7th
Today was a busy, but slow and easy day. I had to contact my doctor, of course. I will see him first thing Tuesay morning to have the stitches removed and to discuss the matter of why my seizures have returned after 21 years of being held at bay. There are lots of contributing factors, to be sure, but we still need to wonder why, after 21 years of being so well controlled, have I had a seizure again? The fly in the ointment is Cesamet, which is contraindicated in active epilepsy, but my epilepsy has laid dormant for 21 years! But for now, my chauffeur's name is John.
So there you have it. My exciting adventure to Halifax. What a trip. Not one we're likely to forget any time soon! On a lot of levels.
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