2018 Stroll for Epilepsy here we come!

With trying to get my seizures under control and adjusting to my new meds, unfortunately, I won’t be making it to the National Walk for Epilepsy in Washington this year.

However, this doesn’t mean I can’t walk here in Texas!

If you’re in the area and would like to walk for a good cause, please join me in strolling at the 2018 Stroll for Epilepsy in Dallas, Texas.

My team, Game of Temporal Lobe, will be raising awareness and funds for the Epilepsy Foundation of Texas, and we’d love for you to be part of our team!



Friends, let me introduce you to my annoying neighbor “E”

Faces smiling and eyes half rolling at my quirky, silly manners
stare back at me with a hint of sadness and worried expression.

The laughter and “you’re so funny” occurrences have forever vanished.
Their ending brought on by my most recent tonic-clonic seizure.

After much needed rest, I went back in with my usual witty self,
but the frightful scene from the day before had already left damage.

They’ve seen the monster within, and I don’t blame them for their caution.
But I promise, I’m feeling better today, and this monster will never win!

After dealing with this disorder for almost a decade, you forget how frightful it can be, not just for yourself, but for those looking in and trying their best to help. For those old friends that have stuck through it and for the new ones I’ve made along the way, thanks for everything you do! I’m sorry I scared you, but, really, I am fine.

This past year has been a relearning of my epilepsy in its new form. It has been difficult. Trust me. I got a lot of bruises and cuts to prove it! It was tough, but I survived because of all of you. Come on, put that sad face aside, I’m still smiling and so should you!

Let’s all talk about it and raise awareness for National Epilepsy Awareness Month!

National Epilepsy Awareness Month Banner

November is epilepsy awareness month. And as the month rolls on, I look at my disorder and see how it has come, gone, returned and evolved in the process.

Epilepsy monster, medicines upon medicines never calmed you.
After years of toil, I thought surgery would do the trick.
For three years, you laid dormant and silent.
I thought I was free of you for good.

Now, you’ve come back with so much anger.
You are no longer the small bursts of blank stares I faced daily.
You announce yourself with a sense of impending doom.
And present yourself with a giant convulsive charge.

You’ve stricken fear in those around me.
You’ve even shaken me who knows you best.
Epilepsy monster, you can play with my mind.
But you will never have my soul.

Epilepsy is a seizure disorder that affects 65 million people in the world. Share your epilepsy story, and let’s help raise awareness about this neurological disorder because we are not alone!

A strangers kindness

Since last December, I’ve been learning to deal with epilepsy all over again. This new version of epilepsy has come in the form of grand mal seizures and not my previous complex partial seizures. My body doesn’t like the physical exhaustion this new type leaves, but it beats having them sparingly versus small handfuls of them almost every other day like before.

Today was going to be a fun day. I was not just going to run errands, but I was going to go shopping at all my favorite geeky stores. Epilepsy had a different plan in mind.

As I made my way through the wonderful nerdy aisles at Game Stop, the feeling of dread aura came over me. Knowing I had little time before the seizure would begin, I quickly alerted my husband and found a corner to sit in.

As usual, I don’t remember much of the event, but I remember the kindness of a nameless stranger.

While some were busy being nosy by starring at my convulsing self, a particular wonderful woman offered my husband a helping hand. She helped him turn me on my side, brought him napkins to help clean the spit and blood coming out my mouth. She even went to the Whole Foods next door and bought me some cold water so I could hydrate after the ordeal.

When the paramedics arrived, she quietly left so she wouldn’t get in the way and didn’t even wait to receive a thank you. To this nameless stranger, I offer you the following words as a form of my gratitude.

In a world of darkness, I know there is still hope.

In a place where there is much cruelty, I know kindness still exists.

These things I know because I saw them today in the considerate actions of a stranger.

Without knowing who I was, you showed all the concern friends give to one another.

Nameless stranger and now my forever angel, thank you for your help.

A toast to endings and new beginnings

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.

It’s a…puppy!

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.

Change is a comin’

Dancing in the rain

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!

I have a hole in my head. What’s your excuse?

MRI Scan

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?