Dream Diary

I dreamt that I was riding a motorcycle though country roads. It was a fine fall days, the trees were yellow and red with brilliance. It was cool but not cold, and the sun provided a moderate amount of warmth. As I rode I had a need to relieve myself. Seeing a rest stop, I roared into the parking lot, but was going too fast. I pitched the bike sideways, and with the engine roaring did a berm shot off a curb, slid into an overflow parking lot, and did a 180 degree turn to perfectly position the motorcycle into a parking spot.

As I exited the parking lot, a guy pulled off the road into the parking lot and then cut me off! Let's just say I was offended. He had a really odd Triumph, it had a fairing and fenders that made it look like a boat. It was painted a pale blue. He then roared off in the opposite direction I was going.

Regaining my composure, I continued down the road. The road ended at a "T' interesection. I was intending to turn right, but there was a police officer at the intersection who was waving everyone to the left. I asked him if I could turn right and he said no, the road was closed.

I turned left and continued riding beautiful country roads. I soon realilzed I was lost, but the day was beautiful and I was not concerned. As the afternoon waned and evening approached, I realized that I had no idea where I was.

Soon realizing I needed clear directions or a place to stay for the night, I took a side road that led to a farmhouse. I approached, knocked on the door and an older, skinny, decimated farmer wearing bib overalls and missing a few teeth opened the door. I explained my predicament and he drawled out that I wouldn't find my way in the dark and it would be best, and I would be welcome; to stay the night.

As I entered the house, I realized how run down and dilapidated the house was. The only light came from a kerosene lantern, and as I was ushered to my room I could see no sign of electricity. Making my way through broken and beat up furniture, I went to the room I was offered. The room only had a dirty mattress and a couple of blankets. Nothing else. I felt a sense of creepiness and lay down. The mattress had been placed next to a wall. I turned my head and I could see some marks on the wall. With the moonlight streaming through the window, I could make out the words...and numbers....

It was my name, and a cell phone number that I used to have! OK, now I'm really creeped out - terror descended on me and I resolved to not sleep but keep on guard. Eventually though my eyes grew heavy with slumber and I fell into a restless sleep. I woke startled, and realized that the sun was coming up. With the advent of daylight came a sense of safety. I got up and walked into the hallway. Into a deserted house. There was no furniture, no old farmer, not one thing in the house. Puzzled, I walked through the house and into the room I slept in. There was no mattress, no blankets. On the rough wood of the wall, I could see that my name and cell phone number still remained!

I thought it best that I leave, and leave I did -as fast as I could.


And then I woke up.

Breakthrough!

We often think of breakthrough as a positive term, as in a scientific breakthrough that will help cure a disease, or overcoming an obstacle of some kind.

To an epileptic, the word has a different meaning. On December 30 2008 I had a breakthrough. Pushing through the medication I take, a seizure reared it's ugly head and broke almost 3 years of dormancy.

I was at work, and discussing a very technical database issue with two colleagues. We were scribbling on a white board, and I distinctly remember difficulty making out the words and following the conversation. I went down unconscious on the floor. I've learned to stay away from DBA's.




Next thing I knew I was being pulled out of an ambulance at the hospital and seeing my wife. I'm not sure why but seizures make me emotional. When I saw her I started crying and said "honey I had a seizure". She reassured me as I was brought into the ER. I quickly returned to manly man status and didn't cry anymore.

The doctor monitored my vitals, pronounced me as being OK and had me stay for an hour or two while I recovered and came fully alert. Sherry took me home and then I slept the rest of the day. The only side effect is that I bit my tongue again. Actually, let me tell you truthfully - I LACERATED my tongue. On the bottom of my tongue you could see 3 clear puncture wounds from my bottom teeth. On the top of my tongue was a nasty wound where one of my incisors shredded my tongue. It hurt so bad and it was a week before I could talk clearly again.


One thing that was amusing was the customer service survey I received from the ambulance company - was the ambulance clean and organized? Dunno, I was unconscious. Did the ambulance arrive quickly? Dunno, I was unconscious. Were the paramedics excellent, good, fair or poor? Dunno, I was unconscious. But it was very nice of them to send the survey.

Then, on Feb 3rd 2009 I had another seizure. I felt kind of weird, and went home to work at home the rest of the day. As I worked I began to feel somewhat nauseous and light headed. As my consciousness began to fade I realized that I was entering into a seizure. I remember vaguely thinking that I need to go lay down. I laid down but things got blurry - I believe I dipped into unconsciousness briefly, but only for a short period of time. I got up and returned to my home office to resume work.


I was apparently still somewhere in the midst of the seizure. I tried to work but was having great difficulty. Then a tangible, horrific sense of utter despair gripped me. I struggle to find the words to accurately describe the blackness that descended and enveloped me with a sense of dread like I've never experienced before. Think of every adjective you can of evil - malignant, horrific, terrifying, confusion - it was that bad.

The grand mal seizure that requires an ER trip I liken to lightning, where the second type of seizure was more of what I liken to rolling thunder. It wasn't a petit mal, but not a grand mal either. Sometimes I think the grand mal lightning strike might be preferable, as with unconsciousness comes the escaping of the blackness of the thunder.

Where do we go from here? I've been put on another medication (Keppra) in addition to the Lamictal I'm already taking. Seems to be working fine. However, I want to find out if at all possible why the breakthrough happened. Might be time for another MRI and EEG. Of course, the results may be disturbing:

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

In my continual efforts to be a good husband, I often make a mental note of Sherry's plans so I can then recite them back to her at the end of the day and ask something like "How'd your lunch appointment with Angelina Jolie go?".

Now, I have an uncanny, almost preternatural ability to notice if a woman has styled her hair differently, a new cut, style, color or any other number of categories. But wait, it's even weirder - I don't fixate on hair, I never consciously note how "Jane" has styled her hair and if it is different. It just happens.

So anyway, Sherry had told me that she was getting her hair done one fine morning. Being a good husband, a sticky note was attached to my grey matter, ready to compliment her at the end of the day.

The hour arrived, and I gasped as she entered the room - "The cut, the style - the way that it frames the delicate features of your face". I was in fine form, pontificating perfectly with vocabulary of the vernacular delivered with astounding articulation.

She said "I rescheduled my appointment". Nothing was done to her hair. I was humiliated.

(apologies to CB)