Anatomy of a Seizure

I can't tell you how often I've been asked, 'What's it like having a seizure?'

Actually, it's never. Not one person has ever asked me about what's probably one of the more interesting events in my life. Either you're just being polite or you don't actually care, but, ever the cynical optimist, I'll assume it's the former.

I write all this because I had another one within the last week. Only my fourth ever, and comes only a few months after my relapse earlier this year.

The first sign of a seizure, or at least my seizures, come in the right hand and then arm. It becomes uncontrollable. Flailing. It's one of the most frustrating feelings to want your arm to go one way and it goes the other. The more I try to get back in control the worse it seems to get.

This was my first seizure from a standing position. That, of course, meant I had to negotiate myself to the floor without injury if possible. I managed to shout for help, before I gently, climbed to the floor and started vibrating wildly

Although I remained conscious for what followed, things become a little foggy at this point. I remember making some noise, but I couldn't describe it to you. I remember my wife comforting me. And I remember, as I was in the kitchen, how filthy it was under the fridge was.

This was also the first seizure where I didn't blackout. The whole thing can't have lasted much longer than a minute, but it was exhausting. Like a full-on workout exhausting. I was out of breath. I had also lost feeling and mobility down the entire right-hand side of my body. This made struggling to the sofa an adventure. I managed to drag my half-limp body to the dining room.

I fully recovered a couple of hours later, but I suspect this won't be my last seizure. At least I'm getting used them now.