And the gyre takes another turn…

It’s looking more and more like my poor husband has slipped into a pattern of seizures this past year. He’s experienced one roughly every two or three months since August, with the last one being just the other morning. 

Luckily enough Boo just so happened to have spent the night with my folks, so it was just Hubby and me in the house. He felt it coming, took his emergency meds, and lay down. The emergency meds didn’t stop it outright, but it did knock about two thirds of the usual seizing time off and decreased the severity of his movements dramatically, which is very good because it kept not only his personal injury down, but I’m not so sure I could have helped him and prevented taking a strong blow or two to my burgeoning belly had his full strength been employed in the movements.

I called FIL when this all started, but the in-laws live several miles away, and these things do happen quickly. Hubby got through the seizure itself just fine, but as he is want to do after such things, he got up and started trying to walk about before he’d regained full control of his body.

I know this, and it’s why I called FIL for help. There’s a matter of minutes where Hubby is unable to make sense of sensory information taken in, and it’s generally necessary to physically hold him back. Normally this isn’t a huge issue as Hubby and I are closely matched in size and strength, but I’m nearly to my third trimester and therefore have lost much of my usual strength to overstretched muscles and joints already beginning to loosen under the load.

 

He managed fairly well actually until, considerate as he is, he tried to kneel down in front of the toilet to prevent becoming ill all over the place. (He lost sensory intake before I grabbed a bucket for him to use, so he was acting on last known information.)

He stumbled. I saw his head rocketing toward the edge of our sink, and I dove to catch him. I managed to soften the blow to non-bruising levels before my legs collapsed out from under me.

Apparently catching an object weighing well over a hundred pounds in free fall and relaxin soaked joints just don’t mix. The tendons in my lower back and hips hyper extended, and I had the dubious joy of hobbling around the rest of the day and part of yesterday before they started to recover.

In any case, some old information resurfaced after being long forgotten, and we’re currently searching for a new neurologist for Hubby. Apparently his old one never thought to make sure there wasn’t a missed piece of bullet fragment still floating around inside Hubby’s skull. (It was found by accident when running x-rays for a martial arts related injury a few years back.) We certainly know he does precious little else than talk at Hubby for a few minutes and then proceed to blame it all on stress.

It's a shame it's taken us this long to find another one.

Originally Posted 4/15/2008