Convergence

I've never been one to be overly patient, it's just a fact.

However, this last year had forced me to wait. 

Wait. Wait. Wait.

The first appointment I made about my seizures was in March of this year, a whole four months after my first seizure. So by the time I had actually made the call I wanted to get the whole thing over with. I was terrified, which is why I waited, but I was finally scared enough to know I had to do something.

It's now September and I still have no answers.

Neurology has an appointment for me in the middle of October, a whole month away, so more waiting. Waiting to know what is wrong. Waiting to know if it can be fixed. Waiting to know if my life will always revolve around the next seizure.

And it's scary. It's scary to read up on the effects of seizures long-term, it's scary to fully come to the conclusion that I have no control over my body for a period of time. It's scary to have to rely on someone other than myself to take care of me.

After being off SSRI's for roughly a month, I am just starting to feel back to myself, for the first time in  five whole months. I am by no means saying these medications don't work for others, but it did not work for me. Apparently the one I was on ended up being just horrible.

The first time I ever had to give blood I was a little over 12 years old. My mom had to hold my arm down I was so scared.

Now?

After a variety of tests which included blood work, CT scans, and my doctor consulting with neurology, the doctors finally ruled out a few things. (Let me emphasize the word few). So after a month of tests, we were able to start out with a possible solution, anxiety. Conversion Disorder is something which sounded oddly familiar, so I wasn't opposed when an SSRI was prescribed.

(For more information on Conversion Disorders, visit here.)

 I started out at the lowest dose, 5mg, or half a pill once a day. It was forewarned that I wouldn't see many changes at first, other than the potential that my anxiety might become worse. The first three days were pretty miserable, just as the doctor expected, I was crawling out of my skin.

Once the medicine started settling in, I started to see a few small changes. My headaches, which I had been getting everyday, were starting the fade. However, everything else stayed the same. The dose takes 4-6 weeks to reach its full effects, so patiently I waited for what I thought was a cure.

But it wasn't.

The next visit was scheduled for exactly 6 weeks later, as soon as my doctor entered the room I explained to her how the medicine wasn't working. She suggested the dose was too small and doubled it. 

Six more weeks went by with no change what so ever.

Again, six weeks later I visited the all too familiar doctors office and pleaded for a different action. She sighed, also let down with the realization that this wasn't a quick fix, and increased to 15mg. I wasn't happy at all, and tried as politely as possible to explain that I no longer agreed with the diagnosis. The only deal we made was the nurse would call in two weeks and if there was no change we could increase one last time. 

Two weeks came in went, with the only change being two pills now instead of one and a half.

At this point I was only 20 mg of one medication, as well as five different vitamin supplements, as well another prescription. My fear of being dependent on too many medications was now a reality, which made me even more anxious, but still with the seizures.

It was interesting at my highest dose, how the seizures stayed, but the medicine brought along newer side effects. Those closest to me who knew I was taking an SSRI noted my increased anxiety as well as how much quicker I was to become irritated. I felt like a walking zombie a large amount of time, and literally would fall asleep standing up. It was more than embarrassing when I couldn't keep my eyes open when I visited with my boyfriends parents one afternoon and fell asleep on the stairs.  

Finally, I came to the realization that I needed to further take my health into my own hands, and stopped the SSRI. I still don't know if this was a good or a bad plan. The ideology behind SSRIs is exactly what is stands for, a Selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor, in other words it targets a specific area in the brain and increases the dosage of serotonin. So now my body was use to such a increased dose, stopping meant withdrawal.  

Withdrawal lasted around a week. However I cannot blame my symptoms solely on the SSRI as I was currently battling an infection, extreme dizziness, and recovering from a minor surgery (something which had nothing to do with the seizures). So I'm not sure to what extend withdrawal had on my body, but now being two weeks SSRI free, I can say I feel a lot different.

Even though I still have seizures regularly. 

My next doctors appointment is less than two days away, and I need to have yet another lengthy conversation about what will come next. All I know is this solution was in fact more of a problem. All I can stress from this is saying that there is no such thing as a quick fix when it comes to your health. If something doesn't seem like it's working, it probably isn't. Please, talk to a professional about alternatives.

"Um, well, yes."

Needless to say doctors appointments for me are never, well, simple. 

If you told me a year ago I would start crying over a bowl of cold noodle in front of my boyfriend I would laugh at you.

However, if you told me that this morning, I wouldn't be surprised.

I'm writing this blog for a lot of reasons, but mainly as a way to find myself in this mist of everything that is wrong with my health. Because sometimes the pills don't help, and most of the time the doctors make it worse. I'm also writing this blog in the hope that maybe one day, someday, it might help someone else, because at least then I could say there was a bright side to all of this. 

So let me start at the beginning. But first I'll give you a cliff hanger, I have a diagnosed seizure disorder. 

I started dating Rowin (name changed for privacy reasons) a little over a year ago. I was an incredibly independent college woman who had no plan on becoming so attached to someone. We had met through a mutual work place a year earlier and started talking again once we both found new jobs. Our first date we went rock climbing. Being myself, the rock climbing automatically became a challenge for me to work at, I was hooked. So maybe it was the climbing, maybe it was Rowin, or maybe it was both but whatever reason we met up again the next week.

We climbed every Wednesday for a month.

To say I was terrified at the my growing feelings for Rowin was an understatement. I had never been in a really serious relationship ever, so I had no idea what to do. There were setbacks, anxieties which should have raised a red flag, but nothing we took too serious at the time. Thankfully, Rowin was patient and our relationship grew.

As the months went on, Rowin and I became more serious. Finally one night five months after our first day I stayed the night. We had sex. It wasn't romantic like in movies, it was awkward and clumsy. He fused over making sure I was okay the entire time. After it was over I stood up to go the bathroom. An collapsed. 

Other than the occasional migraine I always had relatively good health. But that night everything changed. Rowin came over and held me as the first seizure I've ever had happened. Thankfully he held it together, seconds later I was scooped into his arms and he put me on the bed. 

I've been now living with seizures frequently for ten months. I have had to give up a large majority of my independence, and my pride, in order to do basic things. Such as asking Rowin to microwave my cold noodles at dinner tonight. Something as stupid as noodles makes me so frustrated, because the concept of walking four feet from my chair to the microwave is terrifying. Will I faint? Collapse? Have another seizure? Get hurt?