Glass Prison

Let me apologize now, my words are hard to type – stupid Brain is still a few steps behind!

It has taken some time for me to write this week.  Today’s prompt is amusing because it makes me talk about how I ended up where I am today.  Not in some metaphysical way, but how several days have gone by without a word from my mouth, nor my keyboard.  I had been minding my own business, sitting in the kitchen waiting for the water for my tea to be ready.  Nothing strenuous, but along the way two hours passed and I never knew it.  The kettle had turned itself off, a nice feature that finally saved a mess from happening.  Somewhere between watching a squirrel and needing something to drink, my mind went blank.

A seizure of some magnitude had ripped through me and left me like a statue.  Not a Grand Mal type leaving me flopping around on the floor, but a lovely electrical storm that just rendered me silent.  I don’t know what would have happened if people hadn’t returned from shopping much earlier than expected.  I have no idea how they got my into the car and to the hospital.  But the view here is a sliver of the Charles River.  And it couldn’t be prettier if 1000 people had taken pictures from different points along it’s banks throughout Boston!

The pictures in my head of the last few days have just been machine after machine alternately plugged into my arm, or head, or some other thing surrounding me while they try to understand how I became stiff as a board, but not light as a feather!  It made my mother come several states in rather quick order, and return almost as quickly because of something positive with my kid brother that needed to be finalized this week.

Why when I woke up from this entire thing it was like I had just taken a nap, I couldn’t tell you.  The brain is a horribly complicated thing that just flips a switch when it needs to.  The hands still work, mostly and I’m thankful for spell checker for once.  But speaking is just not working out so well.  Communicating with people when I can spell it out via sign language [slowly please!], has proven almost as difficult as any other thing.

The one thing I do know is that my timeframe, the one we worked out just last month, seems to be in flux.  This could be a random thing that someone blames on the wrong combination of drugs and stress, but I have learned that isn’t always the real solution.  My calendar has been adjusted, things I need to get done are drawn out on a piece of paper sitting in a notebook.

This is frustrating in ways I know people understand, but it still is hard to relate to.  I’m angry about this and fine with it all at the same time.  A little quality time spent with the rehabilitation crowd trying to help me recognize the signs of a re-occurrence of my statue state should be fun.

So my view, I’m just happy to see some people today.  I’m still tongue-tied, like taking with a lollipop in my mouth.  The brain moving faster than my mouth.  I wish it weren’t so difficult, but that’s were I am.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Lookin’ Out My Back Door.”

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