Another trip to the hospital, I am tired, cranky and hungry and there is no telling when a seizure is going to happen. You would think as much as I go to the doctor that I love it. You would think it is my favorite place to be. Some people like to sit at coffee shops, some bars or gyms for me you would assume the hospital. This is only my fourth EEG this year, all of which have been sleep and food deprived. I love the lack of the substantial ingredients for life. Pile it on. I love to have cords constantly connected to my head and chest. And those fancy bandanas that they always let me keep, I love those too.
I cannot wait until they start scrubbing my head with that god awful paste. The smell is overwhelming but don’t worry I did not need to smell anyway. That nose God gave me was just for looks. Kevin, the electron euro-diagnostic Technologist, decides this is the perfect time to start joking and picking on me. My husband laughs. Bad idea.
I lay there for a moment, boiling inside, do they not realize now is not the time? Obviously, they don’t because they continue and I pop. I can only sit there quiet for so long before I am yelling at both of them. Now, I am the bitch. Paul, my husband, as supportive as he is, just doesn’t understand. I told him I was tired and he fires back with, “I get tired too and I don’t act like that.” He’s right he doesn’t so that is not a good excuse. Just try one time sleep and food deprivation, someone scrubbing harsh chemicals on your head and making jokes in your honor, then continuous flashing lights directly in your face and the tech making you hyperventilate. If you do not have an attitude I will give you a Trophy for “World’s calmest Person.” Until then leave me alone.
I am wheeled back to the room soon after and the rest is forgotten. I had a grand mal seizure and forgot the remaining part of the day. The only thing I can say is the pain on my tongue lasted for weeks. That must have been a good one.
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