Cheese steaks, and why they are good for my brain.

Yesterday was the big day. Mark and I packed up early in the morning and dropped the kids at my mother's house. "Be back soooooon as we can, Mom! (cackle, cackle, cackle)."



After a three hour ride, we arrived at the University of Pennsylvania where I met my new neurologist. He looks just like Peter MacNicol, and that was just fine with me. (Remember, he was the art museum curator in Ghostbusters II? "Soon, the city will be mine and Vigo's... mainly Vigo's.")

He spent over an hour with us, going over everything- what happened, dates, times, the before-during-and-after's of the seizures, signs, symptoms, causes, medications. EVERYTHING. After hearing all of it, he had come to the diagnosis of Complex Partial Epilepsy- not the Photosensitive Epilepsy that my hometown neurologist had thought. He nearly croaked when I told him that I was on Depakote. He uses that as a last resort medication because of the side effects associated with it.

Instead, I am slowly to get to Keppra 750mg BID. He wants me to go back to Phili in two weeks to have another EEG which will be review by himself and his staff. After that, he may require an MRI just to make sure he has ruled everything else out.

His only additional information for me was to make sure I get a good amount of sleep at night, and use supplemental naps in the day. (Did I mention how much I like this guy?) No restriction of physical activity other than driving. I have six months of no driving (state law) since the last seizure. I have no problems with that since I haven't driven since the last one. After six months, he will contact the Department of Transportation and clear me to drive again.

I think we are starting to get on the right track now. Hopefully with the new medicine routine, I can stay awake, and on my feet for a while. So, until I am back to normal, I'll be frequenting the famous Pat's Philly Cheese steaks as much as needed. The "American wit" is the best thing going.

Everyday is my birthday

I have been slowly putting my computer back together after a virus found its way into it, eating only the things most important to me- my pictures. I have saved most of them, but some were tragically lost forever. Things have been more like normal this week: the kids both came down with a virus on their own last week. For six hours, they traded turns in hanging their heads over the pot.

In better news- two of my brothers have finished their undergrad studies this week. One of my nieces celebrated her 9th birthday, and my dad dropped off a box of doughnuts for us when he picked up her gift. I have an appointment with the head (get it? "head") doctor of neurology at the University of Pennsylvania next week. Hopefully he'll have some answers for us. In any case, it's a good excuse for a Pat's famous Phili cheesesteak.


Happily, I haven't had a seizure in about three weeks. Nice. I can see how that's possible though. I have steadily worked myself up to 1000mg of Keppra, and 1000mg of Depakote per day. I think it's safe to say that I could quite possibly stare at a strobe light while simultaneously playing cards online, and take a final exam, and never come close to having one. My brain has become mush. Consequentially, so has my ass. I don't feel much like doing anything. Yes, yes- I know that's the whole point, but explain that to the little ones and my constantly growling stomach. I have been going through weeks of unending sleepiness, followed by nights of restlessness. Today, for example, I woke up at 3:13 AM. And, by "wake up," I really mean that my body is moving around, probably eating something, but my brain feels like it's at our local bar, sad that they've turned on the lights for "last call."

Well, the weather has changed for the better. I am able to go outside and the kids get to do something other than watch me sleep (like weed my garden). The local farmers are back at work. Tomato plants have begun to sprout out all over the hills. My windows have been open for at least 36 hours straight, and I've even got my base tan underway while finally getting to the sixth chapter of "Crime and Punishment." Dylan has teaching Jordan how to fill each and every empty glass with a lovely bouquet of Dandelions each day. I have been teaching Mark how to fill my wine glass in the same manner at dusk. If I could just stay awake and keep my allergies in check so that I'm not sleeping or dripping snot into that wine, I would have pretty much the perfect life.

Follow up with Sarah

So yesterday I had my follow up with the neurologist. Good news: I don't have any weird shit showing up on my CT scans. (Okay, so he didn't say "shit"). He also tells me that the EEG came back abnormal. Note to others: doctors don't like it when you laugh at that. The strobing lights during the test were apparently stopped prior to sending me into another floor dance.

His diagnosis: with some certainty- Photosensitive Epilepsy.

His plan of attack: new meds- Keppra instead of the Phenobarbital; report to the local ER if it should happen again; no excitement for 6 months (they don't like it when you laugh at that either); no driving on big freeways, expressways, and the like; no playing gin online (duh). Follow-up in another two months accompanied with another EEG.

His advice: be mindful of pre-seizure like signs like weird smells, auras, feelings of deja-vu (Kinda sounds pleasant if you ask me). The meds may make you tired, don't take B6, and get a medic alert bracelet.

Last night I took the meds, and this morning I took a nap after I got up and fed the kids. I feel like a zombie. My bed is calling me again and I am trying to resist, but the kids may end up watching cartoons in my bed while I nap again.

In all- I'm happy with the results. I'm thrilled that he can tell me definitely that something is going on in my giant head. He didn't just throw his hands up and say, "I don't know." I can avoid it from happening again, and it's a good excuse to get out of a party early: "'Scuse me, we have to get going. I smell something weird, and I have to go twitch someplace quiet."

What I want to know is: How many times do I have to pee myself to get a handicapped parking spot?