Reason for the Seizure Season

I took Kels to the doctor this morning to rule out any infection that might have caused the seizures yesterday. Nothing. She has an acute case of sinusitis (as always – she is the allergy QUEEN!) but nothing else. We had some prescriptions for other meds to drop off, so while I was at the pharmacy, I asked for a print-out of all of Kels' meds from June so that I could update the copay sheet for the ex. I noticed with only half of my attention that the last time we refilled her Keppra was October 11. Huh. Today is November 13. And I remembered seeing plenty of pills still in the bottle at home.

I didn't say anything to her at the time, but when we got home I went and counted the meds left over and there was well over a week's worth. So I asked her again (because we just went through this yesterday when trying to find a reason for the seizures after six months of none) if she had forgotten or skipped any pills. This time she admitted to missing a couple of morning doses when she was running late and didn't want to go back to the house and miss the bus. So I pointed out that there was more than a couple of morning's doses left in the bottle. And then I asked the question that really brought out the reason for the seizures. I asked her if she stopped taking the Keppra on purpose because of the side effects and she started crying and said, "Yes."

There you go. I didn't fuss at her too much because I can totally understand her reasoning. She doesn't like who she is on Keppra. She doesn't like the mood swings or the irritability or the altered personality. I can understand that. She also went on to tell me that she thought the epilepsy was gone because she "didn't feel it anymore." Again, I can understand that mentality.

I did, however, point out that she didn't feel the seizures because for once in her life the medicine was controlling them. Not that they were gone, but that the meds were working. I also took the opportunity to ask her if being a more agreeable person over the last couple of weeks was worth the last two days (and future few days) of unstable seizures, muscle soreness, and an altered routine. And she said no. I told her that she was nearly an adult and that she needed to help take responsibility for her health and that included making sure that she took the meds that regulated this disease. Not until she began to feel better, but to maintain her good health.

And then I went to my room and cried for her, because this is her struggle.

Seizures :(

I got a call from the nurse at the high school today. Kels had a seizure in the middle of her advisory class. From the sound of it, it was a doozy, too. So I drove like a maniac to get there. As soon as she saw me she began to cry and said, "I thought I was done with this." It broke my heart. My heart wanted this to be her cure. I knew that it wouldn't be, but I wanted it for her. We knew going in that the surgery would improve her quality of life, but most likely would not eradicate all seizures. And it HAS improved her quality of life. She went six months without a seizure. Six months. Beforehand she would have trouble some days going six hours. My conscious brain knows that this was for her benefit.

My mom's heart, though? It breaks for my baby.

Enough?

When do we become "enough"?

Pretty enough, thin enough, good enough, etc? I have struggled with this in some capacity my whole life. Sometimes this struggle has hit me pretty severely. At one point, the anxiety related to this crippled me so badly that I sought counseling at the urging of my wonderful husband because it was affecting our brand new marriage. I couldn’t go out in public with my handsome husband because I was constantly comparing myself to those women around us who had the gall to eyeball him in front of me. And of course, I wasn’t enough.

All growing up, I always heard that whatever I had earned, made, won, (insert word of your choice here) wasn’t enough. I could do better! I was an honors student all the way through school, top ¼ of my class all the way through college. But you know what? It wasn’t enough. My “A” could have been an “A+”. Simply being good at whatever my chosen sport was wasn’t enough. If I played, I had to play to win. Games weren’t just for fun; they were tough competition (see play to win comment). I remember being told that no matter how good I was at something, there was always someone around the bend waiting to take me down, who was better thanme. And then, when I finally left home and married and got out to where I could find myself as an adult, I married a controlling man who told me I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t thin enough, pretty enough, blonde enough (I could quote quite a few hurtful and abusive things that had been said to me over the thirteen years of that marriage) and as a result, the permanence of my insecurity was born.

As a Christian woman, I know that our value is not found through the eyes of others, but through the eyes of God. He created us, we are enough for Him. My Christian mind knows this; my worldly mind doesn’t. Our pastor delivered a great sermon this past Sunday on this very topic, using the Song of Solomon as his background. While we’ve been taught that particular book teaches us how a marriage should be, the pastor came at it from a different direction – as the bride of Christ, this is how He loves us and thinks of us. Our wrinkles and our rolls don’t matter to Him. He loves us no matter.

But how do we equate that to living in the day-to-day world? How do those Christian women around me get such a better handle on this than I can ever seem to? Why can’t I get past this particular struggle? Why, at the age of nearly 40, can’t I find comfort and security in my own skin? At times, it’s an issue that affects my marriage and, even though I strive for it not to, my girls. I DO NOT want my young women to grow up with this kind of mental anguish.

I have a wonderful man who loves me for who I am, not what I “could” be. I have three beautiful, young, Christian women. I have a great life. I have a great God that oversees it all. So tell me, when will I feel like I’m enough?

Thoughts, Beauty, and Pirates

I'm sitting here watching my wonderful hubby browse through each and every station getting the latest election coverage. Personally, I don't really care who wins. I did vote; I did my civic duty; I cast my vote for who I thought to be the lesser of two evils. That being said – the state of my life doesn't hinge upon who sits in the Oval Office. My tomorrow will look the same as my today, no matter who wins because my life is governed by a higher power.

This past weekend was not only Halloween, but it was Homecoming for my girls' high school. Only Kate went this year. She was beautiful! As a mom, sometimes I am so proud of my girls for no other reason than they live and breathe. Sometimes I am proud of what young ladies they are turning into. And sometimes, like this weekend, I am proud that they are beautiful on top of everything else.

The other two went trick or treating around the neighborhood. One as a renaissance princess and the other as a pirate. LOL. A pirate who isn't used to wearing dresses and kept hitching up her drawers all night long.

1000 Words

Riding the Roads

Kate has been strongly hinting (okay, outright begging and pleading) for Driver's Ed classes. She's 15 and itching to be mobile. I have never personally been in the car with her, but my wonderful hubby and my dad have let her drive a few times in controlled situations. So last night, as we are pulling to our driveway, she asks if she can drive me around the block. Taking both of us totally by surprise, I said okay, pulled over and let her behind the wheel. This is when hilarity ensued.

First, she took at least 2-3 minutes to very carefully adjust her seat. And the mirror. And the seat again. Then the side mirror. Then she looked at me expectantly and I said, "Wagons Ho!!" I got the withering teenage look for my trouble and we were off. At 5 miles an hour. On the left hand side of the road. I laughed a little and told her she should probably get back on the right side and she willingly obliged. As we came to the "U" part of our street, we saw one of our neighbors standing in the road talking to another neighbor. As we're creeping around the curve (3 miles an hour for the turn), I plaster my face to the passenger side window, mouth "help me" and start beating my chest. They are laughing so hard that even Kate begins to laugh. We get all the way around to the entrance of our driveway again and I had her stop and told her to turn on her left turn signal. At that point she panics a little and says, "Oh, I don't know how to do that," and I tell her to just push the little stick on the left side of the wheel. So she begins to switch the stick up and down and up and down to make it blink. At that I totally lost it and began to laugh hysterically. I told her that these new-fangled blinkers were automatic and she only had to push it down once for it to blink.

I told her she could go around one more time and so she increased her speed to nearly 10 miles per hour (woo doggies!!) and as we get the curve again, Mr. Neighbors are grinning and ready for us. In unison, they take a HUGE step off the road into the lawn and cover their eyes. It was the funniest thing I have ever seen. We made it safely home where Kate declared that it was fun driving with me, more than she expected.

Totally Tired

I think the allergies combined with the frantic pace of daily life have finally gotten to me. Today I've been tired to the point of exhaustion. All I want to do is lay down and sleep. I knew it was bad when I snapped at Cam for telling me how to do something on the computer. LOL. I live with a techno-nerd who is a computer specialist by trade and for fun and he is always telling me how to do things. So when the 8-year old did, I guess I snapped. To be fair, though, Cam is so very smart that sometimes I forget that she is only 8 and that 8 year old know EVERYTHING!!! Always!!!

I'm hoping that this week is a little better week at work and not so stressed. Kate has training only on Tuesday and Thursday, so there's not going to be a lot of after school running around (I hope!).

I Fought the Good Fight…

…but tonight I had to suck it up and do something that I've been putting off for months. I had to buy some reading glasses. I didn't want to – it's one of those signs of aging that I fought as long as I could. But my arms just aren't long enough anymore. I had my two youngest help me pick out some that they said were cute and not too "middle aged" looking. I don't really hate aging; I hate the SIGNS of aging. The gray hairs, the wrinkles, and now – the reading glasses. I've said for years that aging is unfair between the sexes. As men age they get distinguished. As women age, we get old. The funny thing is is that I don't FEEL older most days. If I had to put a number on how old I feel, it would probably be 25. LOL. If I had to put a number on how old I look, it would be 40. Mentally I stopped aging a long time ago. Physically, I look like a middle-aged woman.

I guess if our society wasn't so obsessed with youth and looking perfect then it wouldn't matter so much. I really struggle with this. I KNOW that I shouldn't judge myself by society's standards, but my subconscious doesn't always agree with that. As a woman, and especially as a former fat woman, I always feel like I just don't quite measure up. I don't know how to counter that sometimes. Any opinions and suggestions are welcome.

Oct. 15, 2007

A couple of days ago I was getting ready for work and putting on my makeup when I hear this little voice from over the banister say, "Mommy, I have to tell you something." So I look up and there was Cam peering down at me. She tells me that she got up really early because she thought we were running late. So she got dressed, came downstairs and ate breakfast and then started watching TV waiting for us to come out of our room. She said when she turned the TV on, she saw that it was midnight, so she went back to bed. And slept in her school uniform since she was already dressed. So her question was could she still wear the uniform since she only slept in it for a few hours.

Kels has been over five months now without a seizure. She still does occasionally get auras, but she says she can tell that they won't go into a seizure. I don't know how she can tell the difference, but I'm glad that she can. The Keppra still gives her the irritated, aggressive nature that just isn't her, but we will address that when we go back to the neurologist in December for her routine follow-up. She goes from being the laid-back and generally easy kid to what we call "Satan's sister" in the blink of an eye. It's hard to deal with sometimes.

We went to Miami two weekends ago for hubby's birthday to meet the rest of his family. His sister found him after over 30 years of no contact and for his birthday, she and her husband paid for the flights for he and I to go and meet an entire village it seemed of relatives – cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. It was almost like watching the prodigal son parable unfold in real life. It was fun, educational, and entertaining. The culture differences didn't seem to matter at all (hubby is ½ Hispanic and ½ Columbian – I am 100% Texas white-girl). I jokingly call my Tex-Mex Spanish "Pig-Spanglish" and I pulled more Spanish out of my memory that I remember learning. LOL. I'll try to post some pictures from the weekend later on.

More Ike Pictures

Our Lassie

Snapped Stop Sign

My new commute

Community Breakfast (no power for 13 days)

I neglected to mention yesterday that the wonderful hubby had to go get a tetanus shot because as we were working in the back yard trying to string up a temporary fence to keep our dog in the yard, he stepped on an extremely rusty nail embedded in a piece of wood. He was okay, but he claims the shot hurts worse (even a day later) than the nail did. While he was at the urgent care waiting an hour for a 15 second shot, I finished piecing together some hogwire across the downed fence to keep the neighbor's Cujo in their yard and our Lassie in ours.