|Weirdness and simple partial seizures
||[Aug. 5th, 2014|11:48 am]
When I first heard of partial complex seizures, they sounded too odd to be real. "Everyone" knew about absence (formerly petit mal) and full tonic-clonic (formerly grand mal) seizures. And partial complex seizures sounded like they could be a crackpot idea (of which there have been many). |
And yet - a storm of brain activity could cause nearly anything. Because in the end, we *could* all be brains-in-jars. (Or in the Matrix. Cool movie, I wonder if they'll ever make a sequel.)
(I'm riffing off an old joke - some people disliked the Highlander sequel(s?) and decreed there WAS no sequel, which works, after all - there can be only one.)
Some of what I experience - I can get all buzzy-emotionally. And I can try to deal with it cognitively, but my body won't let it go. Well, that's not entirely abnormal - if you get a good scare, you're hyped on adrenaline, right? And you'll be a bit vulnerable to emotions hitting you harder. So, what I experienced was normal - except... except it might also be what some folks with TLE call an aura - a pre-seizure.
It might also be a mild seizure. If you have an "aura" and then have a full blown complex partial (or full seizure), then it was an aura - but it might be a simple seizure all by itself.
I can get flooded with memories whose only context is emotion. Memory flashbacks are sometimes part of TLE (or so I've read).
There are all kinds of things it might account for. Some of them are intriguing, some are scary. Before I was more frequently fatigued, I did a lot of writing. This isn't unusual - Dostoevsky is believed to have had TLE and while I wouldn't remove a single word from his books, I must confess, while reading The Brothers Karamazov, I did have a bit of "did we really need all 600 pages?" feeling. (Yes, I know, pernishus, and I'm sorry - remember, this is lifelong fatigue! Even the greatest of writing suffers when you *have* to plow through it and your brain is screaming that it can't take any more.)
(Um. And, as a side note, that was just a joke, pernishus - I know you would never berate me for a medical issue. But friends may tease, and were you in the mood, I'd expect you to go into full-on pretend-scolding mode asking what wonder I would remove to save a few pages (listing some of the 'minor' but wonderful scenes) etc..)
A scarier thing is that it can relate to religious experiences.
Two big things happened to me during my life.
First, I one day decided I had a disability. I didn't want to own that, but I had to admit it. I was not whole and working - I had to accept that.
Second, I realized I was *different*. Not normal. Not bad, not necessarily broken, but *different*. In a possibly good way. I decided that being a shaman was a good model for that. It was exciting because it explained so much, and gave me a model for "not *broken* but so profoundly different that I'd have to learn a lot of adaptations."
(Huh. I feel like I just talked about I'd have to learn about the movie version of my novelization, but no, adaptation (or adaption) is the correct term. I guess it's like empathic and empathetic - I prefer the less pathetic former.)
This feels *weird*. Because both might be true. And I won't feel bad if my brain's not-normalness lets me do something other people can't do as well. In fact, more power to me if I used something weird to accomplish something that might be helpful to others, right?
But it does raise the issue of "but what if I take meds and that part goes away?" and that's a good question. I'll have to answer it sometime.