It's Not You, It's Me

I can determine the kind of day I am going to have based on how many seizures the Doodle has before 9:00 a.m. Today he's had 6 so far. In 30 minutes. It's 8:30 a.m. These are the kind of days I feel like I can't put him down, even with his helmet on. Try telling that to a screaming two year old pointing to his head who cannot understand any of this. It's not like you can predict when the seizure will come. They just come. And come. And come.

Besides the possibility of liver damage, I am hanging my hat that the newest medicine Depakote is going to work. We're running out of options in the way of pharmaceuticals. I've been trying to get an appointment at the Neuro-science offices at Sutter Hospital in Sacramento. Stanford was not what I had hoped for. They had as many answers as our neurologist here. Pretty much none. They threw another band-aid on it and called it a day. I feel bad for taking up 11 minutes of the Doctors time. It was a pretty nice day for golf.

Today is my first day of Therapy. I wish I could say it was spa therapy but I'm going to a Therapist and not the massage kind. Although I'm still shoppertunistic, retail therapy is not panning out like it used to; either are the chocolate chip cookies and the tub of red liquorish I've been grazing on since last Friday. Hopefully I can work out some of these feelings I'm having of overwhelming helplessness, hopelessness, guilt and sadness. I've been a real downer lately. Not much fun at parties or even on the phone. If you are calling me, chances are the machine is going to pick up. I am apologizing in advance for screening your call(s). It's not you, it's me.