The Mermaids at the End of the Driveway.

I’m so frustrated/pissed/sad/afraid right now.

I went nearly a year and a half without having a seizure, and then BOOM.

I had another seizure this week—a very unusual one.

I was hoping that wasn’t what it was, that it was just a brain fart or a daydream or a temporary lapse into insanity.  But I just got off the phone with my doctor, and he said it sounded very much like a complex partial seizure, which was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.  I was hoping he would indeed diagnose it as a brain fart or a daydream or even insanity.  But he didn’t.  Survey says: seizure.

When it happened, I was riding in the pickup with my husband, and we were holding hands and having a rather animated conversation about bodily functions when--

My brain.

Just.

Shut.

Down.

I don’t remember this happening, but according to hubby, I apparently started to wiggle my feet and itch my thumbs like crazy, and then I started babbling about how “the mermaids at the end of the driveway made me do it.”

Huh?

Well, if they did make me do it, if they were the ones who made my brain go haywire, who overtook my mind, who made my thumbs so freaking itchy and my words come out all wrong, then—well, I wish those damn mermaids would knock it off already and leave me the hell alone.

Days seizure-free: 2.