The Lighter Side of Seizures
Update! I am all better, do NOT have epilepsy (take note, future health employers!) and can drive again. Actually, that first driving experience after a month of not being allowed was like being 16 all over again. I could go anywhere! To the store! Or to Mexico!!!
This is the second draft of the column. The first was too personal, written only days after it happened. On the second go-round, I asked my mom to read it for me, as I often do. She's an English teacher now, but used to be a reporter herself. She reminded me that while I was very, very lucky to be getting better, I needed to keep in mind that a lot of people do not, in fact, get better. I have never felt more lucky than I did in that moment.
(Originally published March 18, 2012)
Hello, everyone. I am, in the words of seminal New Orleans rapper Wacko, back like I left something.
I'm tempted to lie and make up an amazing, devastating explanation for my absence. Something that involves rescuing the Constitution via jet ski after it was stolen by al-Qaeda operatives. Yes. Jon Hamm was with me on the mission, kickboxing the bad guys into submission, defending liberty, riding jet skis that spit fireworks out the exhaust and having the best time ever. Incidentally, this is available in screenplay form.
Unfortunately, the real explanation is not nearly as fun, although I'll start by saying that I am 100 percent OK. But about two weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk, typing and having an unremarkable day. Then, all of a sudden, I was in a dream, a really boring one. I was under my desk, and all my coworkers were gathered around me looking really, really freaked out. Then, some EMS showed up and put me on a gurney, and no one listened to my arguments that I was cool and did NOT need to be wheeled out because, come on, that's embarrassing.
So for those of you who have been wondering — what the pros and cons of having a grand mal seizure? Is a grand mal seizure is right for you? — here is a quick rundown:
PROS: Your coworkers will pay a LOT of attention to you. Every single person so far has done the same thing.
They carefully and deliberately walk into my field of vision — best not to spook me — and adopt what is trying to be a calm, casual, "heyyyy, good to see you, no big deal!" face, but terror flickers at the edge.
"Soooooo ... feeling better?" they begin. "You gave us a little scare! Ha ha! Soooo ... do they know what happened?"
Actually, the doctors think that there's a nice, boring explanation having to do with a reaction to a medicine, but I won't know for sure for a month, and in the meantime, I'm not allowed to drive. If you see a crabby-looking redhead on a one-speed, don't honk at me, please. Which brings me to ...
CONS: Everything. There is not one fun thing about having a seizure except that very dreamy ER doctor, and even he is not worth the hospital bills.
On the upside, my brain is finally back to normal. For a little while, we weren't on speaking terms. I was furious that it chose to betray me so spectacularly, so publicly when we were just having a nice, normal Friday afternoon together.
And it didn't feel like my brain anymore, especially when I tried to write. Normally, I sit down, put fingers on the keyboard and words gush out. But for awhile, I'd sit down to write, and there wasn't anything, just this quiet gray absence. Something crucial was missing, but I didn't know what it was or how on earth I'd go about finding it.
It was the mental equivalent of cooking in someone else's kitchen. I spent all my time opening and closing cupboards, none of which had what I was looking for. Where are the measuring cups?
But I knew I was back when my snarkiness returned. While an athlete may gauge their recovery by speed and flexibility, I measured mine in retort time. I'm pleased to report that I am back in full, insufferable effect ... unless, of course, someone actually decides to make "Patriot SeaDoo Freedom Kiss Ocean Makeout America!" starring Jon and me, in which case I'll be gone instantly.
K. Williams Brown is a columnist for the Statesman Journal, although full credit for that movie title goes to her friend Jared. Her jet ski would have an American flag painted on it, while Jon's would be a giant bald eagle face.
This is the second draft of the column. The first was too personal, written only days after it happened. On the second go-round, I asked my mom to read it for me, as I often do. She's an English teacher now, but used to be a reporter herself. She reminded me that while I was very, very lucky to be getting better, I needed to keep in mind that a lot of people do not, in fact, get better. I have never felt more lucky than I did in that moment.
(Originally published March 18, 2012)
Hello, everyone. I am, in the words of seminal New Orleans rapper Wacko, back like I left something.
I'm tempted to lie and make up an amazing, devastating explanation for my absence. Something that involves rescuing the Constitution via jet ski after it was stolen by al-Qaeda operatives. Yes. Jon Hamm was with me on the mission, kickboxing the bad guys into submission, defending liberty, riding jet skis that spit fireworks out the exhaust and having the best time ever. Incidentally, this is available in screenplay form.
Unfortunately, the real explanation is not nearly as fun, although I'll start by saying that I am 100 percent OK. But about two weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk, typing and having an unremarkable day. Then, all of a sudden, I was in a dream, a really boring one. I was under my desk, and all my coworkers were gathered around me looking really, really freaked out. Then, some EMS showed up and put me on a gurney, and no one listened to my arguments that I was cool and did NOT need to be wheeled out because, come on, that's embarrassing.
So for those of you who have been wondering — what the pros and cons of having a grand mal seizure? Is a grand mal seizure is right for you? — here is a quick rundown:
PROS: Your coworkers will pay a LOT of attention to you. Every single person so far has done the same thing.
They carefully and deliberately walk into my field of vision — best not to spook me — and adopt what is trying to be a calm, casual, "heyyyy, good to see you, no big deal!" face, but terror flickers at the edge.
"Soooooo ... feeling better?" they begin. "You gave us a little scare! Ha ha! Soooo ... do they know what happened?"
Actually, the doctors think that there's a nice, boring explanation having to do with a reaction to a medicine, but I won't know for sure for a month, and in the meantime, I'm not allowed to drive. If you see a crabby-looking redhead on a one-speed, don't honk at me, please. Which brings me to ...
CONS: Everything. There is not one fun thing about having a seizure except that very dreamy ER doctor, and even he is not worth the hospital bills.
On the upside, my brain is finally back to normal. For a little while, we weren't on speaking terms. I was furious that it chose to betray me so spectacularly, so publicly when we were just having a nice, normal Friday afternoon together.
And it didn't feel like my brain anymore, especially when I tried to write. Normally, I sit down, put fingers on the keyboard and words gush out. But for awhile, I'd sit down to write, and there wasn't anything, just this quiet gray absence. Something crucial was missing, but I didn't know what it was or how on earth I'd go about finding it.
It was the mental equivalent of cooking in someone else's kitchen. I spent all my time opening and closing cupboards, none of which had what I was looking for. Where are the measuring cups?
But I knew I was back when my snarkiness returned. While an athlete may gauge their recovery by speed and flexibility, I measured mine in retort time. I'm pleased to report that I am back in full, insufferable effect ... unless, of course, someone actually decides to make "Patriot SeaDoo Freedom Kiss Ocean Makeout America!" starring Jon and me, in which case I'll be gone instantly.
K. Williams Brown is a columnist for the Statesman Journal, although full credit for that movie title goes to her friend Jared. Her jet ski would have an American flag painted on it, while Jon's would be a giant bald eagle face.