Saturday, February 16, 2013


I napped most of yesterday, trying to get back on my feet. I thought that resting for a day and getting a good night's sleep would be enough. So, this morning Dan and I went out for our 6 mile run. Half a mile into it I started to get dizzy, and nauseous. My body is so off. I can't even explain it. If you remember, when I had my first seizure, the grand mal, I was driving alone on a highway, cruising at about 60 miles per hour, weaving along a ledge above the Wenatchee river west of Leavenworth. I had a weird sensation, a minute change in vision, like everything was slightly over exposed. I became nauseous, and dizzy, and although I had no way to know what was about to happen, I pulled over. As I put the car into park my body began convulsing, my eyes rolled up and the last thing I saw was the ceiling.

I have no idea how I knew to pull over. None of the things were so severe that I was scared, it was just an odd feeling, an indescribable sensation. From time to time I get these premonitions and they're scary. I never want to freak out, and it's important that I know how to keep myself safe. So far I have been able to avoid any other grand mal seizures, but they still have a hold on my life. I still have to be really careful. When my body alerts me, I take it very seriously.

I never want to have another seizure ever again, if that's possible. Flash back to this morning, Dan ran into Dukes at Greenlake to get me ice water. I chugged it (ice water is what it takes to immediately calm my over active brain - along with lorazepam), we sat for awhile, then walked home to rest.

I hate it that my body isn't as capable as others. I hate that I have limitations. I hate it that this makes me cry. I hate that my brain is working so hard, yet short circuits so easily. I hate it that I can't power through life with a coffee and tenacity. I feel so frustrated and sad. I'm lucky to be here. I'm so grateful to be alive. And I MEAN that. Deeply. But I'm also frustrated.

I probably won't be emailing or texting for a bit. I need to just gather my wits.

And mom and dad, please don't panic. I'm just venting. Seriously. And I need rest. I love you all.

And thank you Christel. You are amazing. And I am so grateful to you.


  1. I am sorry Jess that you have limitations like this. It is really, really hard to deal with a brain tumor. In fact, it's quite awful. Jessica

  2. I can't begin to imagine a life with limitations, such as the ones you are experiencing. Please know when I read your frustrations I take a moment to check my life and be grateful. You are an amazing woman, doing amazing things. I believe with all my heart this one day will be past you, hang in there!

  3. That sucks Jess but just so you know, I would get dizzy and nauseous after running 1/2 mile too. ;)
    Keep smiling.


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