Epilepsy and Humility…

I have not a clue what happened. None! I seemingly texted a colleague last Sunday, when I came to, to find out whether or not I’d turned up to work on the Friday, because I couldn’t remember going. 

I couldn’t remember going, because I didn’t go. I didn’t go, because I was working from home in the morning as I was due to be going to the sleep clinic in the afternoon. Once I was told that, I can remember that. At least I can remember the working from home because I had an appointment part…My colleague asked how I got on at the clinic, my parents asked the same. I told them all – there is nothing to worry about, I could take better care of myself in terms of diet and exercise, but the sleep thing isn’t being caused by something sinister. Great!

I went to my doctor surgery yesterday and was seen by the lovely nurse practitioner. Apparently, I did not attend the sleep clinic. There was a note in my file to say I was a no-show. WTF? This was a bit of a shock. I’m still trying to process that one. So, at what point did my wiring decide that I was safer staying in my home, than getting the bus to the hospital. It takes the best part of an hour to get to the hospital by bus. It’s more or less door-to-door, but it takes the scenic route! I wonder at what point I knew I wouldn’t arrive at the sleep clinic, albeit I would have ended up at hospital!! 

When I try hard, I can remember working on my laptop on the Friday morning. I can remember Minstrel, the cat, wanting to lie on the keyboard and me making her sit on a cushion on the table as a form of compromise. Yes, I know, I know. But those of you with cats get it! But that’s it, I don’t remember anything after that. So, where did my outcome of the sleep clinic consultation come from?

Well, my theory for that is actually straightforward. The outcome I told people is the outcome I’d been hoping for. I wanted my sleep-issue to be unrelated to epilepsy. I wanted it to be something that I could regain control of and I wanted to get the metaphorical kick up the backside I need(ed) to get back to a higher level of fitness. Simple. 

So, I didn’t go to the clinic. I didn’t go to the office. I didn’t call anyone or talk to anyone. And, I didn’t wake up til Sunday. Over 36 hours just gone. The only other things I know for certain – I didn’t feed Minstrel, I badly bit my tongue, I blacked my eye, bruised my head and I’d been very sick. I have no idea how many seizures I had. 

Over the past few months, I’ve pondered the idea, tested the theory if you will, that I was beginning to recognise the warning signs that a fit is coming. I wonder if I wasn’t displaying enough humility to Mother Nature. Was this MN giving me a slap?? Have I disrespected my body too badly? Was this a lesson for me to learn?

My brain is wonderful enough to know that I needed to stay home. It is magnificent enough to be able to take seeds that had been planted, nourished over months by hope and weave the seedlings into a tale that I believed and so could make believable. My brain is a continuous source of magic, wonderment and intelligence; yet it can be described as damaged. A sobering thought.

Albert Einstein is an epilepsy hall-of-famer. He is often misquoted as saying humans only use a fraction of their brain. The usual percentage quoted is 10, implying 90% goes to waste. While I can certainly say I believe that we, as the fallible creatures humans are, have a tendency not to fulfil our potentials, I can’t believe that we use just 10% of our brain function at the levels we do, even when considered to be damaged. 

I have some processing to do. 

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