I am wiped out.
Two full days, and two full nights -- no seizures. I am of the opinion that the anticipation of them must surely be as bad - if not worse - than the actual event. I have been on edge all weekend.
I found myself staring at the monitor endlessly while K slept, watching for movement, signs of something happening. I couldn't sleep; kept waking up listening, ready to spring. With every movement she made, every twitch, toss, turn, rollover, my heart lept, adrenaline rushing throughout my whole body. After about the fiftieth time, the body gets weary.
P seemed so calm, almost serene. Though I know he watched the monitor too, he didn't seem to have any trouble sleeping. Perhaps because he knew I was on guard? That was my feeling. Which pissed me off. Saturday I was a complete zombie, having gotten very little sleep the night before, and up before dawn, prepared to act when the early morning seizure occurred. She's been having them in the mornings lately; just upon waking. I did NOT want her to make it to the stairwell and then have it. I wanted to be proactive and keep her safe.
But nothing happened. Once, I was upstairs, and she and P were downstairs. She was goofing around (I guess) and was making these moaning sounds into what?, an empty paper towel roll or something, and P says something like, Hey! and I just about jumped out of my skin and almost broke my neck running down the stairs. Only to find her and P kicking back, just goofing off. They looked at me like I was crazy.
The whole weekend was filled with little episodes like this. K has gone home now, P is out at the video store, B is upstairs watching Spongebob. And I am just now able to breathe again.
I hate this. I ask myself if I can take it. But then, I have to, don't I? No choice. What if it were B? I'd lose my freakin' mind, that's what.
I think I'm losing it anyway.
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