More Seizures

February 12, 2019

A week ago today, my husband had two seizures in less than 12 hours. It was the first time, as far as we know, that he experienced more than one seizure in one day. Or even in one week. His medications were adjusted once again. There has been quite a bit of that, as everything is experimental at this point. The combination that's successful today might not be effective tomorrow.

The next day, he was somewhat lethargic and recovering from the event. He had bitten his tongue and cheek rather badly, so eating was uncomfortable. But he did eat and drink, so that's good.

The day after that, in the morning, I received a phone call from the hospice nurse. Usually when I receive a call from either the facility or the nurse in the morning, it isn't a good thing. So when I heard her voice, I was instantly -- and understandably -- apprehensive. But she wasn't calling to give me bad news. She was calling because she wanted me to know how surprisingly alert he was, how he had sat down next to her and smiled pleasantly, how responsive he was to her questions. She hoped he could "talk" to me on the phone, but he was unable to figure out how to navigate that. I heard him cheerfully say one or two words to her in the background, and it made me happy to hear his voice.

The previous time he had a seizure, in early January, he was also more alert once he had recovered from the event. For a day or two, anyhow. It's odd, and I have no explanation for it; but, I thought I'd mention it in case one of you dear readers can offer any insight.

So far, he seems to be supporting the change in medications very well. On another positive note, and there's no way to tell if it's because of the medications or if it's the progression of the disease, the staff members told me he isn't putting up as much of a fuss when it comes to personal care. We don't know if that's a passing thing or if it's the "new normal," but we'll take it!

He Said My Name

Paleo fudge brownies, paleo raspberry-
filled sugar cookies, shortbread

February 14, 2019

I took some special goodies I'd baked to the care facility today, along with a beautiful card I had chosen for my husband. Usually, I have to settle for a card that isn't too awful. I'm sure you know how it is! This one, though, perfectly expressed my feelings about our life together and our love for each other in spite of the uncertainty of our future. I couldn't  have written it better myself. But this post isn't about the card or the cookies.

He was lying down on his bed when I got there, staring at the wall and not responding to me at all. I sat next to him and read the card out loud, and he almost smiled once or twice. I fed him a brownie and a raspberry-filled sandwich cookie (okay, maybe this post is about the card and the cookies, sort of), and then the music playing through his headphones began to perk him up. It always does, because music is magic.

The hospice chaplain had arranged to meet me there in order to share communion again, the three of us. By the time he arrived, my husband and I had "danced" into the common area, eaten some pretty fabulous chocolate-covered strawberries prepared by the staff, and were sitting in the dining room. I'm not always sure whether or not he knows who I am, but he's usually happy to hang out with me. Today, he seemed to really know me. He held my hand tightly, leaning towards me for kiss after kiss on the cheek. It was very touching and tender and heartwarming. And bittersweet.

As the chaplain came over to our table, I leaned in to my husband, saying his name to focus his attention on our guest. Staring straight ahead, he responded with my name. His name; my name. Just like that. It's the only word he spoke during the more than three hours I was there today. What a gift it was, though!

Happy Valentine's Day to me!