The unthinkable happened.

Sunday morning, June 15th 2014. and I got up, feeling fine. Took my meds, as I usually did, and went to bed for another half hour or so. I got up, still feeling fine, and wanted to go outside, as it was sunny. I couldn't though, as I didn't know where my chair was, and would find it slightly difficult to turn round, into the right position, as I was going to bring my macbook pro, and iPhone outside. I decided, to go into the living room, and wait for a while. Listening to something on SkyGo, I was enjoying it, when, suddenly, everything fades, or does it? I hear nothing, just the odd, boom, boom, boom, of my heart rate, increasing, and the feeling of "something's coming but what?" then, a drop; I was on some sort of aircraft or something, and we were in turbulence. I knew nothing, nothing of the reality that was actually going on. I wasn't there, I wasn't anywhere. I was just, somewhere. silence; I was in an old memory, but not living the memory. I was not doing the things in the memory, but I was in the house in which the memory took place. I was in a room. A large room, smelling of perfume, and new carpet. The pine wood from the new wardrobes fresh to the nose. I was on a bed, or the floor, with someone. "Where was I?" I was in my cousin's room, in her house, upstairs, and she was beside me. It was her heavy, fast breathing, wasn't it? but wait; why was I then hearing the words, "She's slowly coming round now. Not with us at all." "She's not all there." What was this? Something was not right. I mustn't be there at all, so if I wasn't, where was I? had I been asleep? did someone wish to speak with me? and they weren't getting an answer? why wasn't I answering them? I felt someone rubbing my head, slowly, her breathing short, and heavy, an air of panic in the voice, which sounded different to normal. Deep, warm, but higher than normal. A woman's voice, the woman was leaning over me, observing my every move, breath, and sound. "Who is this? What is happening? Who is here? Why are they saying I'm not with it? Is that me breathing I can hear? Why can't I breathe? Why can't I speak? Where am I? What time is it? What day is it? Was I asleep?" It was almost like a sense of foreboding, "I shouldn't be here. This is not a room I know, or am used too. Where on earth am I!" All those thoughts, running through my head. At the same time, I heard, the person, who I now recognised as Nana, saying, "I'm here, I'm here, okay.. It's alright." Then, I realised, it was only her breathing, only her, in the room, and her, who had just witnessed, something really terrifying, perhaps a tonic clonic seizure. What this particular thing was however, had not registered with me, but I knew, it must have had something to do with me, and something that hadn't happened for a while at least, or if at all. I did something, I should never, ever, have done. This shows, I was still Postictal, and not quite around, yet. I tried to sit up. Immediately, I began choking. "I think she is going to be sick. Lie down, Samantha, come on." I was pushed, gently, back down, onto my side. My breathing, short, and shallow, my chest rising and falling, barely visible, I lay there, heart racing, and not able to move. I just lay there, co-operating with what ever people wanted me to do. My nan left the room, and I lay there, still, wondering, what is happening to me? Why am I just lying here. What was I doing? All this time, Nan was on the phone to the emergency services, but that had not registered with me. Finally, the siren was heard outside. Nana's voice then echoed, from upstairs, "Are you alright sweetheart? You've just had a seizure, do you understand that? You've had a seizure okay?" I just mumbled, mmm, and lay there. I then must have tried to get up, bad move. Why was I doing things, that I should never, ever do, and get angry when others, such as nursing staff, attempt to move someone after a tonic clonic seizure? Yet, I was doing the most highly dangerous of things? Why. Surely I would have known, to stay put? Not to sit up? Finally, the medics arrived. I still lay there, and heard them walk in. They asked me questions, and my responses were in a soft, and weary voice, that was barely audible. They assessed me, checking my pulse, which was very, very fast. My BP was not good either. Finally, I forced myself to my feet, feeling unsteady, and stiff, and walked out, with the help of a paramedic, to the ambulance. I almost slipped on the steps going up to it, and decided, instead of climbing up the first step, and then the second, I just stepped up both of them. I was taken to the hospital. They brought me into the bay where usually all the trauma patients would go. This, was my first experience of the bay known as the Resus bay. I could hear heart monitors beeping further down the room, and could tell it was large. I'd never been in this room before. This told me, they treated people with epilepsy, or people who had seizures, seriously.. They then hooked me up to a monitor as well, and did an ECG, electrocardiogram, to assess my heart rate.. My Nana looked at the monitor and thought, it was in the lower 120s region. I was there for about half an hour, then, discharged. When the doctor came back, from double checking the ECG results with another doctor further down the ward, who didn't particularly care about them, she returned with the verdict. I was allowed to be discharged. "No! No! I don't feel safe anymore. Can I not stay here? I am scared I'll have another! Please!" I pleaded, bursting into tears. The tears were tears of fright I suppose, of someone who did not feel secure, who was nervous of the familiar unknown, of whether there would be more seizures or not, of my reaction and mood afterwards, worried for relatives who would witness them, wanted to be in the right place, should one happen. Later, I got home, and tried to sleep, but at first, it wasn't possible. every time I kept trying to lie down, I ended up feeling nauseous. Nana ended up getting a bowl. I almost brought my milk back. That night, I went to sleep, terrified, of having another. I had not had one for 2 years, until the other day. since that day, everyone's attitude to me has changed. They all seem to be more worried about me, wary of me, every sound I make is analysed, every time I go quiet, analysed, doors left open, ears pricked for any slight difference in sound. Moods analysed, everything. I'm just praying now, that I don't have anymore.

I'm trapped in a cage!

Well all, I finally had a word with the neurologist's secretary. She is going to tell him to call me directly when he arrives back on the island next week. Another seven more days of getting up, taking this stuff, that calls itself anti-epileptic medication, and feeling rubbish, after it. Sick, depressed, anxious, upset, slurred speech, other nasty stomach side affects, which is making me lose weight. Basically what I've just eaten in the morning, and drunk, the toilet gets. Every morning, all the time. I'm stuck in this ritual. I can't do anything about it. No-matter how much I try and eat, after 12:45, in the afternoon, I can guarantee it will be gone next morning. After I sit drinking tea, feeling sick, I just burst into tears. Tears of anger, and frustration. "Look at this! Look at me! Every morning, I'm like this! Where's the happiness! Where's the lively Samantha! Where's my appetite! Where is my normal speech! Where is my general enjoyment for life! Gone, in 2 mouth fulls of water! Gone, when I take those 2 pills. When they dissolve. Everything disappears!" I listen to the birds, the traffic, the laughter and enjoyment of children, and adults making their morning commutes, the sun, streaming through the windows, the breeze blowing outside, the trees and everything rustling, outside the window! All of it, would usually be my enjoyment, usually be interesting. Not anymore! Sometimes I think, I would rather the seizures, just let me drop, I don't mind, at least I won't feel anxious, and sick, and all of what i feel now. For 2 minutes or so, I will be somewhere away from it all. I know there will be drama, in front of you all, know you will have to witness me convulsing, shaking, perhaps screaming, and thrashing around on the floor. But sometimes I think, I wouldn't mind, as long as I don't have this! I wish I didn't have to pop those pills, didn't have to mentally destroy myself for 4 or 5 hours in a day! Why! Why can't I just be normal! Just have that happiness, and everything else, even my enjoyment for my singing has dissipated. Give me it all back for goodness sake! I want my weight, my appetite, all of it! Lamotrigine has taken it from me! And trapped me in this cage, of depression, and anxiety. The bars on the outside are thick, and hard to get through, if at all. I'm trapped in there, and only released at 12:45 pm! From 09 AM, the doors are shut, and I'm trapped, in the same routine! I hate it! Release me from it, please. Let me out! I can't do this anymore! Or else, there will be a river of tears every morning, again, and again. Release me from this cage of frustration, and vanishing before peoples' eyes! Please, let me out!

No response.

It's been a week now, and my neurologist has not responded. He's been emailed twice, and still, no response. He doesn't have to wake up of a morning, not knowing how you will feel for the next 4-5 hours. Not knowing, whether a big one will hit or not. Not knowing how you will eat that day, feeling depressed, and regretting ever taking the meds in the first place. Right now, I'd rather the seizures, than the anxiety thank you. I know I will regret it, saying that, but yes, I don;t like these anxiety attacks, and the worst ones, the black days, are after that lady time. They end up, that I'm waking in the morning feeling dizzy, and sick, even before I have taken my meds. I know those will probably come round again, and I hate it! I hate them! I want off Lamotrigine before those come round! Please, reply!!! I'm stuck, and I want rescuing.