Oh how I dislike July 14th. It hasn’t always been this way, but ever since 2010, I’ve never wanted a day to pass over like I do the fourteenth. But after the semi better news I got yesterday, I can say that I’m more at peace with it. Maybe next year I won’t stay in bed and ghost everyone.
Every year, I’ve made an attempt to find a little bit of joy. I’d work in the yard, I’d make something that Pops would like, even if I wasn’t eating it, but somehow, I always end up in bed. This year, I accidently scheduled a doctor’s appointment that I had been putting off. Dragging myself out of bed at 6:45 in the morning wasn’t a good start. But once I got myself together, enough to not look homeless, I headed out.
After a few hours, I got out of my appointment and cried. Just enough to not be able to breathe and decided I wanted to get Whataburger. Thirty minutes. I waited thirty minutes for my food. Nothing like driving away and the food tasting like trash. So, I cried some more.
Eventually I got home, showered again, took meds and went to sleep. The entire day just dragged on. I had my mom to talk to about nothing. We just talked and laughed. We both knew the day, we both had feelings, but instead chose to talk to each other like it was a regular day.
Back into town, I grabbed some non-essentials and grabbed the boys from Eric.
Fast forward to almost nine o’ clock at night and I’m ready to work out. Except my emails that I’ve been avoiding are now going off. It was finally here. The results from my most recent EEG. The EEG that would tell me if I was getting worse, or if I’d finally been able to comfortably manage my seizures with less medications. (Excuse my language) I fucking did it. My results came back as abnormal per usual, but this time, it wasn’t taking over my life. It was “controlled”. The medications I’ve been are actually helping.
It’s not something that is gone. I’ll still have my days, my moments. But for now, I can breathe. Thank you Pops. You really are my Angel.