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The Cliffs of Insanity Reboot
Aug. 10th, 2012 04:30 pmWell, not really; I'm just trying to step away from the inebriated madness of last night. My excuse is perfect: PHENERGAN. That's what the doctor gave me for the nausea. So far it has worked, as I just had a potato about an hour ago, and that was the first bite I'd had since Tuesday night.
I didn't think I had committed to memory the grand mal seizure I had that night. Well, actually, it was very early Wednesday morning. First thing I lost was my bearings, and I fell a couple of times just trying to get to the bathroom. Third time was a charm, though. My vision went wibbly and I suddenly woke up on the living room floor. I'd bitten my tongue again, could hardly move pulling myself with my arms, much less stand up. The TV had automatically turned off, so it was pitch black in the house. No light and hideous confusion is not a good combination, when you're trying to get some help. It took me a good half hour to finally dial the phone right, after I finally got it knocked down from the table, with an umbrella. It was as though neither the cell nor home phone would properly work. In actuality, it was my fingers that would not work.
Finally, I got in touch with Janice around 3:30 in the morning. She called 911 and I was hauled off the E/R to be monitored to see if I needed to stay in hospital, or if I could go home. I did my best to behave as though I had gotten my bearings and consciousness back, because I had the initial interview with my new therapist, the one who specialises in grief, and I really didn't want to miss that. It's been a year this month, and it's taken me this long to actually get somewhere. I wasn't about to let a seizure put that off.
The meeting with the therapist went very well, I believe. It's still a tentative arrangement, but I think I'll warm up to him nicely, and I really think he'll be able to help me. The issue I have is with myself. I'm not inclined to allow myself to be open about much, unless I'm baring the soul (and a little leg) here on the Cliffs. He mentioned that journaling may well be a good outlet for what I'm dealing with. My thought was, dude, you don't even want to know about my journal! haha
Since the incident of the other night, I've been spending the evenings at Uncle Michael's and Janice's. I just did not, and still don't honestly, feel comfortable with being alone when I still felt like a mean jelly. I will probably go up to their house again tonight, especially if I'm still a tad nauseous. If I have to have more phenergan, I want some physical support in the event I fall out from the medicine.
Regardless of where I stay tonight, I'll definitely have the computer with me, because I need to finish this damnable Feeding the Tree story. It's pretty much a given now that Flint will survive to perish in another tale. If it keeps up like this, Flint will end up being a staple for The Harming Tree cycle. God/dess only know what B will think of these stories, if he ever reads them. Maybe his advice to go nuts with the idea of The Harming Tree will be something he regrets. We'll see.
Tomorrow, I need to finish paying my bills and I need to clean this house up. In trying to find something, anything, to reach the phone, I pretty much trashed the living room. I really despise domesticity. What I hate even more, though, is not being allowed to drive for six months. It's gonna drive me (no pun intended) bonkers.
I didn't think I had committed to memory the grand mal seizure I had that night. Well, actually, it was very early Wednesday morning. First thing I lost was my bearings, and I fell a couple of times just trying to get to the bathroom. Third time was a charm, though. My vision went wibbly and I suddenly woke up on the living room floor. I'd bitten my tongue again, could hardly move pulling myself with my arms, much less stand up. The TV had automatically turned off, so it was pitch black in the house. No light and hideous confusion is not a good combination, when you're trying to get some help. It took me a good half hour to finally dial the phone right, after I finally got it knocked down from the table, with an umbrella. It was as though neither the cell nor home phone would properly work. In actuality, it was my fingers that would not work.
Finally, I got in touch with Janice around 3:30 in the morning. She called 911 and I was hauled off the E/R to be monitored to see if I needed to stay in hospital, or if I could go home. I did my best to behave as though I had gotten my bearings and consciousness back, because I had the initial interview with my new therapist, the one who specialises in grief, and I really didn't want to miss that. It's been a year this month, and it's taken me this long to actually get somewhere. I wasn't about to let a seizure put that off.
The meeting with the therapist went very well, I believe. It's still a tentative arrangement, but I think I'll warm up to him nicely, and I really think he'll be able to help me. The issue I have is with myself. I'm not inclined to allow myself to be open about much, unless I'm baring the soul (and a little leg) here on the Cliffs. He mentioned that journaling may well be a good outlet for what I'm dealing with. My thought was, dude, you don't even want to know about my journal! haha
Since the incident of the other night, I've been spending the evenings at Uncle Michael's and Janice's. I just did not, and still don't honestly, feel comfortable with being alone when I still felt like a mean jelly. I will probably go up to their house again tonight, especially if I'm still a tad nauseous. If I have to have more phenergan, I want some physical support in the event I fall out from the medicine.
Regardless of where I stay tonight, I'll definitely have the computer with me, because I need to finish this damnable Feeding the Tree story. It's pretty much a given now that Flint will survive to perish in another tale. If it keeps up like this, Flint will end up being a staple for The Harming Tree cycle. God/dess only know what B will think of these stories, if he ever reads them. Maybe his advice to go nuts with the idea of The Harming Tree will be something he regrets. We'll see.
Tomorrow, I need to finish paying my bills and I need to clean this house up. In trying to find something, anything, to reach the phone, I pretty much trashed the living room. I really despise domesticity. What I hate even more, though, is not being allowed to drive for six months. It's gonna drive me (no pun intended) bonkers.
