Seizure!

As I was doing my town errands on a Friday, the day the local bank gives out delicious cookies, I was stopped and asked how Cindy was doing. Usually I answer with “still smiling,” but I could not say that this time around. Just the week before Cindy had her first seizure.

As we both laid in bed around 6:30 am Cindy went rigid. Sounds of distress came out of a mouth that appeared clenched in fright. Even scarier were her eyes. The right pupil seemed lazily directed to the right corner of her eye, while her left pupil stared forward, more in vacancy than attention.

I leaned over, caressed her head and kept repeating “I’m here. I’m here.” From watching too many crime shows I followed that with “Stay with me. Stay with me,” as if I was compressing the blood in her chest from a gunshot wound. This went on for a couple minutes.

Then the next phase began. She gasped heavility, exhaling through her lips forcibly, causing them to flap. She continued to look frightened. The gasping eventually settled more into light groaning with eyes closed, no longer a frightened look, but a burdened one.

At 7:00 am she appeared stable enough for me to leave her side and I called Foothills VNA, her former employer when she was a visiting nurse. At 10:00 am the on call nurse came out and took all of Cindy’s vitals. Everything checked out OK, including skin condition and color. We decided the VNA should start sending a nurse out twice a week. I got in touch with our primary care provider and daughters soon after the visit.

For the rest of the day Cindy napped mostly, wrung out from her ordeal. When I tried to stand her up a couple times to make a change she was totally limp. She was not interested in eating, for the first time in forever.

I realize from this ordeal that I had been making a plea deal with God ever since the diagnosis. Let Cindy go sooner or later, I will accept whatever the time is, as long as she goes somewhat peacefully and content. In exchange I will handle whatever is dealt to me.

Maybe Cindy still will pass away in peace, but the morning’s ordeal revealed that is no guarantee. Whenever I was not feeling concern for Cindy I felt anger, as if God was reneging on our deal. I trust I can handle anything, but I do not want many mornings like this; I really don’t.

In the following days there was a surprising development. While Cindy’s body continued to be limp, her cognition appeared to be improved. Rather than her usual state of mind being a fog with brief spurts of alertness, her usual state was now napping but with longer spurts of alertness.

I increased the frequency and amount of her stretching exercises. While she remains somewhat limp, there has been progress in muscle resistance and extension. She also has a new countenance about her during these exercises. She grimaces like a person working out, with a “no pain no gain” aura.

These new developments have given me the opportunity to tell Cindy she is improving. The last time this happened was when we were hiking across the country eight years ago. Being able to tell Cindy she is improving makes her visibly happy … and makes me happy.

I am not getting carried away with optimism. I know there will be a ceiling to Cindy’s improvement, and that ceiling likely will be lower than before the seizure. That means the accommodations I now make for Cindy’s limpness might be permanent ones. Some differences like changing Cindy in place, rather than bringing her to the bathroom, actually makes life easier. Other differences makes life sadder, like not being able to “dance.” Cindy seemed to really enjoy being in my arms for those “dances;” I really enjoyed hugging her

Sometimes I tell myself what I do is pretty easy, taking care of a warm and joyful woman. I am not telling myself that right now.