A force of energy and excitement surrounds me.
I’ll be leaving the familiar for the unknown.
I’ll be taking on a new adventure where possibilities will be endless.
Amongst the enthusiasm for the anticipation of the new journey,
hidden underneath is a sense of loss and heartache.
I’ll miss the wonderful shared conversations.
I’ll miss the comradeship of great friends,
but all beginnings must have endings.
Here’s a toast to the great times we’ve shared.
Here’s a toast to the future that holds great promise.
I’m a mother of a four legged friend now.
I’m responsible for the well being of someone other than myself.
I’m learning to wake up earlier than usual so we can go for walks.
I’m learning to distinguish her occasional whines and whimpers.
It’s nice having a little puppy following you around.
It’s wonderful knowing she’s mine to care for and love.
My little girl might not be a baby, but I think I know what my mom means.
When she says, it’s a great feeling being a mom.
There’s a pep in my step.
There’s a little hop in my walk.
There’s no need for slumping.
There’s no need for feeling down.
The storm has come and passed.
And it’s time for rebuilding.
There’s no denying there’s a lot of work to do.
A whole lot of mess was left behind.
But I can do it! I always have.
And there’s no stopping me today!
Being the youngest has it’s advantages, but it definitely has it’s disadvantages, too. This is something I wrote a decade ago, but fitting for National Sibling’s Day. Although my siblings gave me more headaches than I could count growing up, I wouldn’t change them for anything in the world. They’ve always been there for me through thick and thin. Continue reading
There’s a hole in my head.
There’s a hollow place in my temporal lobe.
A faulty memory, after surgery was a nuisance.
Yet, I find myself three years later a better Einstein.
There’s less brain matter in my head.
And there’s more space for my cerebrum to wiggle.
But I find myself with more intellect than some around me.
There are certain people with no hole in their heads.
Their brain matter at 100% capacity.
Yet, I find them no closer than having the intelligence of a simpleton.
Did brain surgery leave me smarter, or did it show me how to tell the dumb ones from the smart ones?
It happened again. The silent stare and painful convulsions. My morning started with a simple cup of joe, but ended with a trip to the ER. Epilepsy, my dear old friend, sure missed me these past three years and came back to end my one month seizure free streak.
In a weird way, I’m not disappointed that it happened. It was my fault to begin with. I missed my dose the night before. I just have to get back into the routine of taking my meds on time again.
But why am I okay with it happening? I’m okay with it happening because I won’t have to celebrate my one-year anniversary on my birthday. I have a new date to celebrate and an entire new day of excuses to ask my husband for presents.
But most importantly, it made me realize how much my work family cares for me. Although many of them had never seen me seize before, they weren’t squeamish from the blood that spilled from my mouth as my teeth ground my tongue. They weren’t making faces as my body contorted on the ground. They took action! They made sure I didn’t hurt myself during my fit, and made sure I was alright, after I showcased my breakdancing moves.
I am very grateful for my work family and how they came together to work as my epilepsy team!
There are many things I can say I’m good at. There aren’t many things I can say I am great at, but there is definitely one thing I can say I am perfect at!
I’m a perfect patient! And I don’t mean the “patience is a virtue” kind of thing. I have yet to meet someone who truly has patience for every single little thing.
My body rattles. My body shakes.
The tongue is bitten. The tooth breaks.
Unconscious monster has awoken.
And I am here left broken.
Were the last three years lost?
Was surgery worth the cost?
While there is hurt in my soul,
I have not lost my goal.
There is beauty in tears,
And no reason for fears.
I have my purple support system
to guide me with their wisdom.
With them, the impossible is possible.
With them, I’m unstoppable.
My epilepsy battle might not be over, but neither are my spirits. This girl is going to kick Epilepsy’s butt again!