Seizure After Stroke

Something I haven't talked a lot about is my life with seizures. My last bout with them was about three months ago and boy were they a doozy. If it hadn't been for the quick actions of my husband, a co-worker, and the neurological ICU team at Memorial Hermann, I'm not sure what the final outcome might have been. Seriously.

There was nothing at all significant leading up to this last event. The last seizure I had prior to this was two years ago. A strict medication regimen, an attempt at maintaining low-stress (insert laugh track here), and staying away from my known triggers seemed to be keeping the boogers away. At the very end I'll tell you what we think the culprit(s) was (were), so stayed tuned.

I went to work on a Tuesday, just like any other normal day, and started my normal work routine. Computer. Spreadsheets. Printing. You know, stuff. It was about 9:30 in the morning and I felt the familiar signs. For me, it's like a rush of warmth, dizziness, and sleepiness that starts in the back of my head and slowly spreads to the front. Eventually a wave of darkness takes over and along with it - motionlessness. Like being trapped in my prison. Most of the time I have the wherewithal to be able to call out for help. Of course, this time was different because I was all alone in my office. So the next best thing I could do was call my husband.

By the time Victor answered the phone I was non-responsive, only answering in short grunts and breaths. Alarm bells started going off in his head and he kept talking me through the seizure. These are what they look like - peaceful, sleeping Laura. But it's really a disconnect in my brain. A hardwired reset that takes everything back to zero. After a minute or two he started to panic. I had never been out longer than that and he was still counting the seconds. I believe this episode lasted closer to four to five minutes. When I came to, my speech was slurred and my right side was nearly paralyzed.

I knew better than to panic. Past lessons taught us about TIA's (trans ischemic attacks) and we were no stranger to them. Eventually I became clear headed enough to give him my nearest co-worker's phone number who showed up in a matter of minutes. Once my friend arrived, he decided the best course of action was to call an ambulance and they transported to me Memorial Hermann.

In the ambulance, I told the paramedic I felt another seizure coming on. This one was totally different. My body seized up in ways it never had before. Over and over and over. I remember the air getting pushed out of my lungs so forcefully that the noise coming out of me was nearly unrecognizable as my own voice. I was administered some medication and shortly after it stopped. I wasn't scared. I wasn't concerned. I was nearly relieved it was over.

My husband and both my bosses met me at the hospital. I was immediately admitted to the neurological ICU. I had scans completed, blood drawn, and evaluations done. A possible clot was found in my brain. The only question about it was whether or not the area was a congenital defect - the blockage wasn't a blockage but an area where the veins actually just stopped - or a blockage. No one could tell. Go figure.

We decided to accept the clot buster medication known as TPA. If I had a stroke, it could save my life. If not, I might just be easily bruised for a while.

A little while later I had another seizure. Victor was with me in the room. He noticed my left foot twitching shortly before my whole body convulsed. It was the same macabre dance as in the ambulance. He ran to get the doctors and nurses. They administered some drugs and kept asking me a bunch of questions. I think I answered them, but I don't really remember. Later, after the seizure, Victor overheard a nurse saying something an anxiety attack and had to bite his tongue. That must have been some anxiety attack.

I was in the hospital for two days. They wanted me to go home with a walker. I was able to walk, though very unsteadily. I was out of work for two weeks and so was Victor so he could take care of me. I couldn't shower myself for a few days and needed assistance. I couldn't go up and down the stairs alone for a few days. I was extremely unsteady for about a week.

Eventually my nervous system calmed down. My balance returned. My strength returned. Was it muscle memory?  I don't know. The official diagnosis was Todd's Paralysis - a temporary paralysis after a seizure. No stroke, thank God.

The cause? We'll never know for sure but here's the theory:

1) I took 100 mg of my anti-seizure medication. I took it in the form of 50 mg pills. My pharmacy, without telling me, switched me to 100 mg pills. For a short time (anywhere from 1 week to 3 mos) I was double dosing myself. I have taken the double dose of that medication before back when I was having a lot of seizures, but it's been a while. As soon as I realized my  mistake I corrected it. I told the EMT and all the doctors at the hospital about the mistake.

2) My insurance company no longer wanted to pay for the name brand of another medication I take that peripherally helps with seizures. It is not that medication's main function, but is a happy side effect. The insurance company asked the pharmacy to switch me to the generic.

3) This all happened at the same time.

In the end I was on three months driving restriction, which was awful on everyone in the house. I had to increase my seizure medication after all. And if I don't answer my phone, all my co-workers start to worry about me. But it could always be worse.

I want to give a special thank you to my company for feeding me for the first week I was out. And for everyone who helped give myself and all my kids a ride when we needed help. And especially for all the patience and understanding during my time of recovery. I am truly blessed and thankful for your all.

Till next time, friends...

Long Term Effects of a Stroke

Life has been very busy for us over the last two years, which about how long it has been since I have written any of my blogs. Shame on me. I have fallen into that trap known has "Writer's Block" (which is really just laziness) and blamed life events on keeping me away from my keyboard. My son is graduating high school, my youngest is starting high school, my marriage needed a little TLC, I started a new job with a great company, and I had a little set back with my health.

One of the effects of my stroke is right side weakness and pain, commonly referred to as neuropathy. The neuropathy is a bit more uncommon in stroke cases, but obviously it does happen. Everything has been under control for the last few years but I have noticed increasing weakness, pain and even some swelling in my right hand.

To start with, I sprained my right wrist in a car accident three or four years ago. And within the last six months I had a rather hilarious encounter with the stairs, a sock and a tile floor in which my wrist was the butt of the joke. So there was a question as to whether or not injury played a part in the new pain. I had an upcoming neurologist appointment so I spoke with her about it.

The neurologist told me I there were a few options. I could have carpal tunnel, arthritis, an old injury that didn't heal correctly, or it be symptoms of my stroke getting worse. We set up a time for an electromyography (EMG) and an x-ray of my hand.

The EMG was not my most favorite test. It consisted of have mild-ish electric shocks run through your hands and arms and a needle poked into your muscles. You have to have both arms done as a comparison to each other. The test came back normal. No carpal tunnel. That's great news, considering I spend most of my day in front of a computer screen and want to someday be a known as a professional writer. The x-ray also came back normal.

This means the ultimate news is not really good news. The effects of my stroke have started to get worse over the last year. That was a hard pill to swallow. That means no cure? No surgery? No magic pill? My mind couldn't totally wrap around that concept. I wanted so badly for there to be a definitive answer and I'm left with, "Sorry kiddo. Better luck next time."

Sometimes I feel like things like this would be easier to accept if I had done something to cause the situation I am in. If I lived in a life burdened with high cholesterol, heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes... But I have none of those things. I had a faulty heart and no one is to blame for that.

So what's next? I honestly don't know. I keep all my appointments. I am trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle, maybe exercise a little more. Monitor my hand strength and agility. And don't dwell on the things I cannot change.

Till next time friends...

Brush With a Bump

One of the many updates I missed telling you about was my brush with a bump. Unless you've been living under a rock, those you living the States know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Pink has taken over the traditional oranges and blacks of my favorite time of year. But it's all for a good cause, I suppose, so I'll let it slide.

I had a hysterectomy in 2011. Most people use this monthly reminder to do a self-breast exam. I have no such prompt anymore so I just do it whenever the thought crosses my mind. I had a well-woman exam this past May and everything was hunky-dory. I did notice that my chest was breaking out like it did when I was in high school. Super gross, I know, but here is the whole story. I was at the end of mid-terms, working full time, still in marching season for my son's band, and volunteering as the treasurer for his booster club. I know, I'm a little nuts. I figured that the stress was getting to me and was taking the form of adolescent chest acne.

This particular day, when I got out of the shower, I noticed a new outcropping of pimples on my right breast. Out of frustration I rubbed at them and felt something that shouldn't be there. It was one of those moments where I felt the bump but denied that what it actually was. So I went back in for the second feel and realized that I was right the first time. Oh, no.

What I found was a hard mass that seemingly popped up overnight. In May all was well. In October I was gonna die. I finished getting ready for work and went the entire day without telling anyone what I had found. Not true - I texted my husband. I had to talk to someone. At home, I made my husband feel me up but we took no joy in this moment. He confirmed my lumpy breast.

I'm sure everyone has a different way of dealing with difficult situations. Mine is to hop on the computer and find out everything I can about what is going on. The odds that I was sick were 2 in 10. Not one 1 in 5, but 2 in 10 which I ruminated over for days. Why not reduce the fraction? Those are the things that kept me up at night. It's like they add another person into the statistic, which is a ridiculous notion.

At any rate, the actual next step was to see my family doctor who could do nothing more than confirm that I had indeed found a bump on my boob and refer me the breast center at Methodist Hospital in Houston for an ultrasound. Which I did. Yup, it was still there. Bad news? It was getting bigger. The next thing to do was a biopsy. 

At this point I had to tell my manager/friend at work what I was going through. We bonded over some of our similar health scares and pulled out a calendar. We should all be so lucky as to get the days off that are needed to go through important events in our lives. 

The biopsy wasn't as scary as I imagined in my brain. I was awake the whole time but fortunately the whole procedure only took a few minutes. It's the waiting that gets you. You wait before you go in, wait for results, wait for action. The whole thing is nothing more than a waiting game. But the biopsy was nearly painless. I only felt it twice. The first time she numbed me up a little more and the second time she explained it was because they were at the back of the bump and it's hard to numb you up all the way. Well, I wish they'd told me that, but at least it wasn't all that bad. I did have to refrain from lifting for a full 48 hours which gave me an excused absence from work.

This is also when I made the decision to change doctors’ offices. My primary care doctor's office may be full of very intelligent people but their staff ruins everything. I ended up requesting the hospital give me my results because I knew if I left it to the doctor's office that I would be left in the lurch for weeks or die of something terrible in the meantime. 

The results were in: a fibroadenoma. Completely benign but it had to come out because mine was the kind that would keep getting bigger. In fact, by the time I had my surgery it had grown another centimeter in only a few weeks. The surgery was nothing more than a superficial removal of tissue. I was able to return to work the very next day. And waiting in the mail box for me at home was a referral from my doctor's office to go the breast center to see about that pesky bump. Good thing I never waited for the diagnosis to come - it never did. 

My brush with a bump taught me a few things about myself. I found it very fascinating how quickly I went from thinking of my breasts as beasts of burden (and let’s face it ladies, we all do), to coveting them, to coming to grips with what could be the reality of the situation. I finally reached a point where I thought, "Just cut 'em off." In the end I am left with my Frankenboob. The surgeon was excellent, mind you, but because I am so pale as to be translucent and my skin scars really easily. I don't really mind. After a hernia operation, three cesareans, open heart surgery, a hysterectomy, the biopsy and now this, my torso is riddled with scars anyway. What was one more so long I was well?

And I love my Frankenboob.

Bone Density Scan - What to Expect

I recently had a bone density scan. Yes, me, a 35 year old woman. There are many reasons a woman would need to scan her bones: old age, disease, genetic abnormalities. For me, it is because I take a long term medication that interferes with Vitamin D absorption. Vitamin D helps you absorb calcium and calcium is necessary for strong bones.

Women tend to lose more calcium throughout their lifetime than men do. We lose calcium each menstrual cycle, each time we have a baby, each time we nurse a baby, if we over exercise to fit into those skinny jeans or diet too much. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle is essential for both men and women in order to avoid osteoporosis. So avoid smoking, excessive drinking, eat a well balanced diet and exercise regularly.

Actually getting the bone density scan is not really a big deal. In fact it was the easiest test I have ever had (I have had my fair share). I was by far the youngest person in the waiting room. I had the other women beat by at least 10 years, but I think having a stroke at 29 gives me the street cred. The best part of the scan was the fact that I never had to take my clothes off. There were times I was convinced that every person in the hospital had seen my boobs when I was having tests on my heart before and after my surgery.

To have the bone density scan done, all you have to do is lie down on an exam table let the machine take x-rays of your hips and lower back. At one point you will have to lift your knees and place them on a giant pillow for the scan of your lower back, but that's it. That is your entire participation in the x-ray.

I chatted with the x-ray tech (this part is optional). She was very friendly. We talked about the badge she wears that monitors her exposure to the radiation in the room. I think it was somewhat comforting to know that I wasn't in any danger of being over-exposed, even though the thought had never even occurred to me before.

I have an appointment with my neurologist, who ordered the test for me, later this month. I'll check in with all you then!