2,106 days

When I had my temporal lobectomy on 9 January 2007 Dr. Kanev told me that there would always be the possibility that I could have another seizure. I told him that I didn't care, that I just wanted the seizures to be less frequent. I wanted to have my life back. Dr. Kanev and Dr. Oh did the surgery that afternoon. They removed one portion on my left temporal lobe, but the EEG still showed some funky brain-waves. He removed another small section, and the EEG showed all normal activity. I spent 4 days at the hospital, was then moved to rehab for three weeks, and then did another six weeks of outpatient rehab. It was a long road, but a good road. I got my license back, I started working again, I got my life back. I made it through a divorce. I refinanced my house. I have all three of my wonderful children and my awesome yorkie. And then after 2,106 days of no seizure activity in my little grey cells...my brain went funky.

At least I picked a great place to have it. I was at Baystate (3300 Main Street to be exact) with Naissa, my 13 year old. We finally got her in to see someone at BMC's Behavorial Health about her medications. We had been there for about 20 minutes or so, and I know that Margaret was in the process of writing Naissa's prescriptions. The next thing I knew was that I was in an ambulance. Nia was there, holding my hand. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. I asked "What happened? Where am I?" Naissa looked at me and said, "Mama, you went funky again."

The EMT told me that I had a seizure. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. It couldn't have happened. My brain was supposed to be fine! I couldn't have another seizure. I had beaten the odds and for almost six years my brain had been holding it's own. I had been working a third shift position for two years. I've been a single mother for three children for almost three years. Yes, I have had many ups and downs, but I think I've done a pretty darn good job, and now this.

I was in the ER for about six hours. And I was in and out of it. I was close to a clock and noticed that it was about 2:45 pm when we got there. Grammie Kathy came to get Naissa and took her home. As we didn't know how long I would be at the hospital Kathy said that she would spend the night at the house with the kids. One of my dearest friends, Heather came to be with me. I had been holding my own while I was there but when Heather came in and wrapped her arms around me I cried and cried. Heck, I'm getting teary-eyed while typing this! Heather and I have been wonderful friends for many years, and I know that she will always be there for me. Heather's mom, Karen, who is now pastor at a church that I used to attend (that's another long story) came to be with me, too.

The doctor taking care of me said that they didn't feel that I needed to be admitted, but they had scheduled an appointment with my neurologist the next day. Karen drove me home, and Heather was there. Uncle Dick came over to check on me, and so did my Aunt Carrie. I took a shower and had another good cry. When I went into my bedroom Naissa was curled up in my bed. "Mama, I'm sleeping down here tonight to keep an eye on you." She had gotten me a big travel mug of ice water; she remembered that I am always so thirsty after having a seizure. Kathy came down to make sure that I was all set in bed, and by nine pm that night I was in a deep, deep sleep.

The next day Heather took me to see Dr. House, my neurologist. And yes, this Dr. House has a much better bedside manner than the TV Dr. House. My reflexes were fine, but he upped my Keppra slightly as a precaution. Right now I am not scheduled for another EEG, but am now undergoing physical therapy for the vertigo brought on by that grand-mal seizure and a sleep study next week to see if we can figure out why I am so exhausted all the time. Dr. House does not want me working night shift anymore, and laboratory pickings in Western Mass right now are very slim. So I am taking it day by day.

Day by day is all that I can do right now. We've got 43 days left until Christmas so I am clinging to that. And I am getting stuff done around the house. I am slowly plugging through things that need to get done, but I have to pace myself or I get physically and emotionally exhausted. Kianni, Naissa and Jayden have been wonderful for me. Of course they are wonderful at being teenagers and do a spectacular job of making my hair go grey, so I treated myself and got my roots done and a nice highlight on Friday. I am wondering why this had to happen, and I am praying that this really was just a little "brain fart" and will not happen again. And I have been praying. Like seriously praying. I know that God watches over me, and that things like this do happen for a reason, but this one I have yet to figure out. So to the Man Upstairs, anytime that You want to let me in on this one, be my guest!

Camp Football

All right. So I promised Courtney yesterday that I would write about this one, so here it goes!

As I blogged about yesterday I have been deaning Sr. High Rally Camp at Camp Mechuwana since 1997. The summer of 2004 Alex Blackstone and Doug Dieuveuil started coming as campers. The following summer Courtney Carter started attending, too. The three of them were quite a hoot and kept me on my toes. Alex was a PK (Pastor's Kid) like me. Doug, or Dougie as we affectionately called him and Alex were good friends. Courtney was Courtney, and I got along so well with her. All three were people that the other campers would look up to.

Rally Camp the summer of 2007 was especially wonderful for me. It was the first summer that I didn't have to worry about having seizures as I had my Temporal Lobectomy that January. It had been just over six months since the surgery; I had my drivers’ license back and had tasted the freedom of not worrying about where I would be if I had another seizure. I had already been weaned off of the Tegretol XR, and was seeing myself increase with energy. I had also turned into a human barometer. Every time we were going to get snowstorms or rain I could tell 24 hours in advance as the location on my head that they cut off would itch like crazy. It's been five and a half years and that still works. I think that I should become a meteorologist and just not have to go to school for it!

Anyway, I so loved camp that summer. The kids were now old enough to be in Day Camp, so I was able to spend from breakfast until dinner with my campers. Nick would get them from Day Camp in the afternoon, get them cleaned up and ready for dinner and then I would spend time with them after supper and get them ready for bed. One afternoon we were down by the lake for Arts and Crafts. A few of the campers did not want to do whatever it was that they were to be making that day, so they asked if they could throw a football around. Nick, Jordan and I were sitting outside the Arts and Crafts cabin and told them that it was ok. So Dougie and Alex started tossing that lovely piece of leather around. A few times it came really close to us and a few times Nick said, "Guys, you are chucking it a little too close here. The last thing that you want to do is clobber her in the head and make her go funny again." We were all of course laughing about it, but the last thing I wanted to have happen would be to have something heavy hit the left side of my head. "Oh sure, Nick. Don't worry, we'll be careful."

The next thing that I knew was that I felt a giant "WHAM" right on the left side of my head. I remember tilting over and splattering onto the boardwalk. I think I got knocked out for a brief moment. I also can now say that the way they do it in the movies is true; when you get knocked out and then come to you can see little yellow birdies floating around your head. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" I heard Nick's loud, boisterous voice yell. It took a few minutes and I didn't think that I needed to go to the nurse, but let's just say that Alex and Dougie were exceptionally well behaved for the rest of the week! The two of them were so apologetic, and it was ok with me. All I could think of was "Wow. What would have happened if the bad part of my brain was still there?"

As I said, it's been five and a half years since that surgery, and I still am a human barometer. And I still think, though not as often, "What would happen to me now if I had another one?" I think there will always be this little thing in the back of my head thinking the "What if's?" Living without the daily threat of seizures has really made me learn how to live again. I know I am the same person who went into that operating room, but things about me have definitively changed (which I will discuss in another blog). But learning to live again has been an extremely eye-opening experience. And I can't wait to see what it brings next.

My Happy Place

Maine. The Way Life Should Be. I could go by that.

The younglings and I are up in Maine for a while. They take off to go visit their dad and other “siblings” in Colorado on July 4^th. So until then we have moved in with my parents for a few weeks. The kids have been staying up here with my parents on the weekends when I have to go back to work.  So far, so good. We have had a few days down at the beach, day trips, and then last week when it was unbearably hot everyone just hung around the house. Tonight we did a trip to Mike’s Clam Shack and the kids were in seventh-heaven. They are now camped out in front of the TV watching a movie, Mom is playing on Facebook, and I was sitting here trying to get stuff together for camp, but I decided to write for a bit instead.

I apologize for not writing on my blog for a while, but things have been a wee bit funky for a while. My dear ex-husband was not being very user-friendly for an extended period of time and I had a few majorily depressing breakdowns for a while, but I am working on picking myself back up. And I am counting down the days. Twenty-nine more days. Until I get to my happy place. And my happy place is Camp Mechuwana.

I started going to Mechuwana when I was in third grade. A whopping eight years old. My cousin Joey went with me, and my dad was a counselor. I went to Tent Camp. For those of you familiar with Mechuwana it was where the Villiage now is. In the early 80’s it was simply big tents on cement slabs with cots (at least I think they were cots) inside. The things I remember about that year was braving the lake (which I have grown to love), getting my first tip-test bruise on my left thigh, cruising a meal or two and the dirty sock. From what I have not blocked from my memory, the dirty sock was a sock that had been left by a camper. The game was if you found the dirty sock in your stuff you were “It” and you had to hide it in someone else’s stuff. I remember praying each night “Lord, please, please, please don’t let the Dirty Sock show up in my stuff.” Guess what I found in underneath my pillow on Wednsday afternoon? The Dirty Sock. I went home that night. Dad and Joey finished it out, but I fell to the first-time-camper-syndrome.

I spent the next few summers at camp in Jacksonville, but started going back to Mechuwana when I was in Jr. High. I was a very artsy kind of kid; big into playing my clarinet and doing artsy projects. Linda did the camp, and I went. And I loved it! I continued going through high school. I will never forget all of the wonderful things that I made there.  And I still have all the Ukranian Eggs that I made my junior year when Tomilla took me under her wing and helped me find my little niche in life. I will always remember her for that wonderful summer! We always stayed down at Lower Camp right by the lake. It was so wonderful to fall asleep listening to the water lap against the shore right outside the back door of your cabin. And the loons. Oh, the loons! Listening to them at night was so relaxing.

The summer of 1991 my dad got  a phone call from Rev. Joan DeSanctis asking him if I would like to be a youth counselor for Jr./Sr. High Rally Camp. It was for those entering sixth grade through those who had just finished high school. Rather than go as a camper I went as a youth counselor and was head of a cabin of seven girls headed into 6^th or 7^th grade. What a blast! I took pictures that year, not many, but there is photographic evidence that I was there. I had such a wonderful time there, and made many  friends. Joan asked me if I wanted to do it again the next summer and I was all for it. I counseled the next five summers, and then took over as dean of that camp the summer of 1997. We were now just a Sr. High Rally Camp, and were staying at KK (another part of the camp) but had just as much, if not more fun! The only week I have missed since the summer of 1991 was the summer of 1999. I could only be there for part of the week as I couldn’t get that week off from work, but Joan and Julio came to my rescue and they deaned it for me that year.

Since then I have been there every summer.  In 2001 I brought Kianni and Naissa for their first stay at Mechuwana. The next summer Jayden tagged along too, and he was not quite a year old. My campers that year would argue over who got to take care of the little tyke! The kids then started Day Camp, the three of them have done Elementary Creative Arts camp, and last year Jayden had a part in Elementary Music Theater Camps musical! This summer they will be in Colorado with their dad while I am at Mechuwana. But while I am there I will hold them dearly in my heart. And when I sing that Mechuwana song “Oh Spirit of Mechuwana, beneath these cathedral trees” I will think of and pray for them, and I know that they will feel it two-thousand miles away.

My Little Man

So I have gone and torn my house apart. "Why?" you might ask. The reason is very simple. I am trying to find things that were packed up in cardboard boxes when we thought we were moving to Delaware in 2006. When that didn't work out the stuff stayed right where we put it. I still haven't found all my mugs or my "Gone With the Wind" handpainted porcelain figurines, but I did find all my Ukrainian Eggs that I made at camp and my high school yearbook. And I found my journals.

I was an avid writer until I had my surgery in 2007. When we first got the girls it became very sporadic, but I eventually got back into it. Reading them has been an eye opening experience. I think that when they took a chunk of my brain out that a lot of my memories went with it. Re-reading them has been an eye-opening experience. "O.M.G....did I really think like that?" is what keeps going through my little grey cells now. I hope and pray that when my kids finally read all this that they will understand me a little bit more. I don't think that any child really understands their parents until they are wearing the same kind of shoes.

I took two months off from work when we got the girls. When I went back to BRL I was able to go back part-time. My mom came down quite a bit to spend time with the grand-younglings and I also had them in day-care while I was at work. Nick and I had put the Frog House on the market, and had an offer on it while we were at Mechuwana. When we got back to Massachusetts we found a house that we loved, and it was right next door to my Gramma and Uncle Dick! We then had three weeks to pack up the Frog House. My parents came down to spend some time with us and help with our packing. 

I got home from work around 12:30 in the afternoon. It was a Tuesday, July 17th. The girls social worker had come for her monthly visit. She left around one in the afternoon. Mom and I sat down to have a cup of tea and then start packing some more. The phone rang and I answered it. It was Nancy, our social worker. She told me that Kianni and Naissa's mom had another baby on July 13th. DSS had the baby in their care and wanted to know if we would like to take him to be with his sisters. I remember standing there with my phone stuck to my face in utter awe and said "Sure!" Nancy told me that Annette would be over with little Jayden in about an hour. I hung up the phone and yelled "We just had a baby!" My mother simply looked in utter shock and my dad just had a blank look on his face. I called Nick and told him that he should come home because he just had a son. I called BRL and told them the story and was able to take the last month of my FMLA that had been approved when we got the girls.

Annette pulled in about an hour later with little Jayden and Nick pulled in right behind her. He was a little tyke; six pounds, 4 ounces. He was sleeping when Annette brought him in. Jayden came to us with two extra diapers and the clothes on his back. She stayed awhile so that we could explain to the girls why Jayden was now with us. Kianni kept petting the top of his head like he was a little dog, and Naissa was looking at him like "Okay, what is that?" After Annette left my father looked at us and said "I think that the two of you need to go shopping." Nick and I took off for Target and about $700 later we came home with everything that we needed for a newborn. When we got the girls we were okay as we had stocked up on things once we were approved to be pre-adoptive parents. But this was a whole different ball of wax. We hadn't been expecting another child, let alone a newborn.

The first picture that was taken of Jayden and I was me holding him with one arm and I had a glass of wine in the other. I guess that was the plus of not having to breast feed. I was told that if I wanted to breast feed him that I could be put on a medication that would help me produce milk. I remember looking at the doctor and asking her if she were serious. She was. I told her "No thanks, I'll stick with bottles." Jayden was two weeks old when we moved into our house here on Alderbrook Lane. He's now going to be eleven in July. He has grown so much and so have his sisters. I will always remember special things about all of my kids, but there is one thing that I so love about my little Jayden. I have called him "My Little Man" since we got him. I think I say it more than I realize. We were both in the kitchen one afternoon recently and I gave him a kiss on the top of his head. I said "Jayden, are you my little man?" He looked up at me and with the most serious look on his face said "Mama, I will always be your Little Man."

My Geneaology Addiction

All right. So I know that many of you have been following my blog to read about my life and how I dealt with my epilepsy. I know that I have not had much to say lately (huh, go figure that one) but I do have a good excuse as to why. Since Nick and I split and divorced (don't worry, dear blog readers as that saga will come later) I had to find a little something to do and lose myself in when I am feeling down and out. I am a genealogist-aholic.

My mother and my Uncle Jamie have always been big into working on their family trees. They have tons of Rubbermaid totes full of pictures and documents of their family. So I decided that because there is not much known about my fathers families, particularly the Sterndales and Zarecki's that I should take a trip out to Lawrence and Methuen and see what I could find. I brought my Aunt Barb with me and we decided to start at Lawrence City Hall. It only cost us twenty dollars, but we were able to look through the birth, marriage and death records that they had as far back as the early 1800's. We were then able to ask to look at the original books to find more information about grandparents, great grandparents and great-great grandparents. It was wonderful to find out that my great-grandfather, Peter Zarecki had a sister named Terese that came over from Lithuania as well. We were able to see Peter and my great-grandmother Augustina's marriage documentation and the birth record for my grandfather, Peter Jr. We had a field day there!

We then meandered over to Methuen to see if we could find out about the infamous Richard Sterndale. He was my grandmother Elizabeth Lundgren's maternal grandfather. We knew that he had been married several times, but while we were there we discovered a fourth time! We were also able to find out when and where he had died and where he was buried. We got death certificates for Richard and for his second wife, Annie and then decided to do some grave hopping. We headed over to the cemeteries where my great-great grandparents are buried. We found John Peter Lundgren and Alida Carlson and two children who died in infancy. We went to see Peter, Augustina, Terese and my Great-Aunt Anna and her husband, Joe. We then went to Walnut Grove cemetery which is listed on Richard's death certificate. It was a smaller cemetery than the others we had been to, and there was no office. So we asked the ground caretakers where we could find information as to where people were buried there. They let us look through the original books in which who had which plot was documented in beautiful, flourishing handwriting. We found where his plot was, and the caretakers directed us there. We were both so giddy like little schoolgirls! As we were driving to the area where they supposedly were I squealed "Stop the car!" I hopped out as I saw the headstone for Richard's third wife, Ida Bottomley. She was buried there with her first husband. Five stones down from Ida was Richard. He is buried there with Annie, his second wife and the one he was married to the longest. They are there with their son, Herbert who had made the journey from England with them, but passed when he was very young. We were so excited to find that this man we had only heard about really and truly existed! But then we had a moment of silence for Richard, Annie, Herbert and the Sterndale family as we thought about the hardships that they had gone through in England and then while setting up their family here in America.

There are still Sterndale cousins of mine out there. Just finding them all is a wee bit tricky as the census records are not released until 72 years after they are taken to respect privacy. Ancestry is a wonderful puzzle, an addicting puzzle, but a fulfilling puzzle. The excitement of finding these records makes you feel as giddy as a little schoolgirl. The inner peace that you feel when you stand at a tombstone and recall what these people went through in order to set up a good home here in America for their family is serenity. I pray that my children will enjoy the work that I am putting into all of this so that they can understand our family history. And for my children, for their inner peace, I have  started a family tree for them with their biological family. These are things that I hope that they will cherish, for a long, long time.

The Frog House, plus two!

Nick and I had now been married for almost three years. I bought a little house in West Springfield the January before we got married. We named in the "Frog House". It's a long story as to why, so just use your imagination. We did a lot of work on it; the floors, painting and wallpapering, redoing lighting, etc. We did extreme amounts of yard work, including the blueberry and strawberry patch, the vegetable garden and my flower garden. We had some funky shindigs there, especially the St. Patty's Day dinner that was really home-made pizza's, and the Toga Party which freaked out the delivery guy; have your brother that is 6 feet 5 inches jump out of a bush wearing a bright blue toga and ask the guy "Were you followed?" There are lots of great memories in that little house.

I again had the seizures under control, but I was now on three anti-convulsants. I still was not able to drive, but was still working full-time at BRL. Nick and I talked about starting a family. We both really wanted to have children, but we felt the odds were a bit against us. Nick had Type I diabetes that he was diagnosed with in elementary school, and I had my epilepsy. We spoke with my OB/GYN and neurologist about it, and I was also seen by a neurologist at Yale and by one in Boston. One major option for me was to undergo a series of tests to see if I could be an eligable candidate to have the area of my brain removed that was causing the seizures. The thought of having them cut open my head and remove a chunk of my brain scared the crap out of me. Nick and I did talk about the pros and cons of it, but neither of us felt certain about it. But we were certain that we wanted to have a family.

I'll never forget the night that we decided what we wanted to do. It was late. We were both getting ready to go to bed. I remember standing at the foot of the stairs crying about it again. Nick came up to me and put his arms around me. He looked me in the face and said, "We can have a family. Let's adopt." I asked him if he was serious. He said "Yes, I'm serious. Your aunt and uncle have adopted children, and my aunt and uncle were foster parents for tons of kids and then adopted Anna. We can do this!"
The next day the calls were made and we were signed up for a M.A.P.P. class. We took the classes, wrote the needed essays about ourselves, had the house inspected and were approved to be a foster/pre-adoptive family. We knew that we wanted to get a toddler if not a baby. Three or four months of waiting went by. Then Nick got the call.

One of the DCF case-workers, Annette called Nick at work one day. She had a little three year old named Kianni who really needed a stable home enviornment. She brought Kianni's file over to Nick and then he brought it down to me. It was convienent that we worked in the same complex but for different health care organizations. He was excited! Her picture was beautiful; she had huge brown eyes, curly black hair, little pierced ears and what a smile! She was a little bit of everything; African-American, Mexican, and American Indian. They even said that there was a bit of Portugese in her. We both felt a strong calling to her and told Annette that we would take her. When we got home from work that night we called our best friends to fill them in. That night we all went out to dinner to celebrate, and then ravaged through Toys'R'Us to pick up stuff for a three year old!

Kianni Alize came to live with us the third Thursday in March, 2001. I had put in for a FMLA and was planning on taking two months off from work. While Annette was there helping Kianni get settled in the house she told us that Kianni had a younger sister named Naissa who was living with a different foster family. Kianni had not been with her for a few months. She asked us if we would be interested in taking Naissa in as well so that she could be with her sister. We didn't even think about it. "Sure!" we both said. Shortly there after Naissa started to come for afternoon visits, then overnight visits, then weekend visits and then moved in with us permanatley on Apirl 26th, 2001. On April 28th we loaded the girls, us and my parents on a plane to fly to Florida for my brothers graduation with his Master's Degree. Remembering the looks on the girls faces as we took off was astounding!

The girls were wonderful. Yes, they came with some emotional baggage, but we were in therapy together and just took it one day at a time. We were now a happy family of four. Little did we know that in two and a half months it would become a family of five.

Butch the Sundance Car

I love driving in my car. I can't exactly call it a car; it's Dodge Grand Caravan that I named Ethel. Don't ask me why. My first car that I ever owned on my own was a candy apple red Plymouth Sundance. I named it Butch. Butch was an awesome little car. He replaced that Green Machine, a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was puke green and could sit six teenagers and have a cello, two violins, a baritone sax, a clarinet and six backpacks in the trunk and still have enough room. But I think Butch was my all time favorite. The two of us did many trips up to Maine during the summer. I think that little puppy even did a trip or two to Virginia and D.C. But he mostly went back and forth to my parents summer place in Wells, Maine. Ah-the way life should be!

Anyway, doing errands today got me thinking about how much I loved Butch and how it killed me to lose my licence for a while because of the seizures. I had been doing quite well for a while until I noticed the "auras" coming back. That's the really funky feeling I would get in my stomach right before I had a seizure. Most of the time it would stop before it went into a full blown seizure. I had been seeing my neurologist who put me through yet another EEG and had upped my Tegretol. I felt like it was getting back under control. Early May 1997 rolled around and I had been feeling tired a lot lately. I was working second shift at Baystate at the time. BRL (Baystate Reference Laboratories) had recently been born, and we were getting busier and busier with specimen drop off's coming as late as 11:30 at night and our shift was supposed to end at midnight. I had been pulling later and later nights to help get everything done, and I just couldn't seem to catch up on the sleep. My wedding was also five months away so I was extremely busy.

My Aunt Carrie had called and asked me to come over to her house for something. It was before I had to go to work and I had the time so I zipped on over. I can't even remember what it was for. I had been feeling really weird that day, almost like I did when I had mono in high school. When I was done doing whatever it was at Carrie's I remember getting back into Butch and heading home to the Frog House. Explaining why the house on LaBelle Street was called the Frog House could be a blog of it's own! I started to turn up towards the school and felt an aura starting. I knew what was happening, and it all happened so fast.

The next thing I knew a paramedic was talking to me. I was still sitting in Butch. I knew what had happened but couldn't speak. They took me over to the Baystate ER via ambulance to make sure that I was okay. After I had been there for a while and I was able to talk again I asked the nurse to call down to the lab and tell them that I wouldn't be in that night. I remember her looking at me funny, and I told her to just call down to micro and tell them. I honestly don't remember much about what happened there. I can't remember if Nick (my fiancee) came to get me or if my Aunt Carolyn did. But I know that it was Carolyn who took me down to the police station the following day. Because it was documented that a seizure caused the accident and I was a diagnosed epileptic I had my license suspended. I remember Aunt Carolyn holding on to me as I pulled it from my wallet and handed it over to the police officer. I cried the whole way over to Springfield to get a state ID. Why I bothered I don't know as I really couldn't drink alcohol while on the anti-seizure medications anyway.

I had to undergo another round of EEG testing. I remember actually having a seizure while having it done and the tech was so excited about that. My Tegretol level was increased and I was also put on a second anti-convulsant. I know that I couldn't drive for about two years after that and had to depend on so many people to be able to get to and from work. And trying to get a ride home at midnight really sucks. So I started looking for a day position got one at BRL in client services which I started in July 1998. It was nice to finally be on the same schedule as my now husband who was able to drop me off in the morning on his way to the office and pick me up at night.We were able to spend time together and enjoy it and each other.

Then came the discussion about having children.

My Educational Desires

It's amazing what I can do at 3:42 in the morning! Now that I work third shift my brain works well in the wee hours of the morning. Of course, my penmanship is absolutely horrid, so it will be extremely interesting when I try to decipher this during normal business hours!

Since I was a sophomore in high school I wanted to work in a hospital laboratory. At that time I was taking major history and English/literature classes as I was certain I would either be a teacher or go to law school. I wasn't taking the advanced biology as knowing weird things about your digestive tract wouldn't help you pass your bar exam. One day during biology class we had to go down to the library to hear a shindig on hospital and medical professions that were seeing a decrease in employment and needed people to major on these professions in college. We heard from a doctor, nurse, respiratory tech and an X-ray tech. Then we heard from the Senior Laboratory Technician from Franklin Memorial Hospital.

She spoke of what a laboratorian does; performing analytical testing on blood, working up microbiology cultures, reading cell blood count slides and typing and cross-matching blood. What started racing through my mind was "Geez, these would be the people that test my blood when I have it drawn every six months." Because of the anti-seizure medication that I was on for the epilepsy I had to have my CBC, hemoglobin and liver panel checked regularly. I wondered how this was all done?

I spoke to the Senior Tech after class and explained how interested I was. With it being just before February vacation, she invited me to come and spend a day with her in each department and see what it all entailed. I was ecstatic! My parents okayed that, so I spent school vacation in a lab coat. I spent a day in hematology, chemistry, microbiology and blood bank. Everything about it was interesting to me and made me want to learn more. I knew that I wanted to learn how to run the analyzers, how to read cultures and identify bacteria and perform susceptibilities. I wanted to learn how to look at a slide and tell the difference between white blood cells and what the morphology of red blood cells could help diagnose. I wanted to learn how to type and screen a patient and cross match a unit of blood for transfusion. I wanted to learn more and more. I had found my calling!

The Monday after vacation I went into my guidance counselor and told him that I needed to change my courses for my junior year. I knew that I needed to step up on my math and science courses. I plowed through chemistry and pre-analytical statistics. My senior year I took physics and anatomy and physiology. I knew where I wanted to go to college. My primary choice was Springfield College. I was accepted there but for some reason I couldn't get enough monetary help to go. So I got into Springfield Technical Community College and was a part of the two year Medical Laboratory Technician program. I did my seven month internship at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, Massachusetts and thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent in microbiology and blood bank. I took my American Society of Clinical Pathology boards in August and passed. I was also lucky enough to get a part-time second shift position at Baystate that October. That position turned into a full-time position about a year later.

When I started at Baystate in October 1993 I worked in microbiology. It's going to sound crazy, but I love bacteria. Those cute little microscopic wonders that have the capability of having a massive party somewhere in your body and causing you massive displeasure. On second shift we did most of the processing; getting those little guys on a plate of nutrients that make bacteria happy so they set up shop there. We also did many other tests and procedures that would mean Greek to many people if I listed them all off.

I seemed to be in my own little happy place. I got my own apartment which I shared with my bestest friend ever! I had a wonderful group of friends and enjoyed playing by my "Two Week Rule." I went and did things and met people, including the man that I would marry a few years later. Everything seemed to be going perfectly well and normal...until May 1997.

The Mosquito With Christmas Lights

My guess is that anyone who is following my little adventure is going "What does she mean my a mosquito with Christmas lights"? That's a very good question. But to this day I swear that is what I saw.

I was in my sophomore year at Mt. Blue. My seizures had been under control. The Tegretol had been doing it's job, and after being on it for about five years with no other outbreaks and my EEG's looking good my neurologist decided to wean me off of the medication. I still had to check in with him once a year, but things were looking up. I really thought that what my mom had told me was true and this was something that I would grow out of.

My best friend, Steph and I were out on a Friday night with her mom. We did our weekly trek to Mr. Paperback, the local bookstore so that we could drool over the New Kids on the Block in all of the teen magazines. Geez, I can't believe I just publicly admitted that! But anyway, Stephi and I were meandering through the store and if I remember correctly we were over looking at the cards. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I could see this teeny little thing floating near the corner of my left eye. It was small, and flashing with all different colors. I remember thinking, "Wow! That looks like a little mosquito flying around wearing Christmas lights." Then the really funky empty feeling started in my stomach and I knew what was happening. I tried to say something, but couldn't. I don't remember anything after that.

Steph saw me go down; I apparently took out a whole bookshelf when I collapsed. It was the grand-mal seizures again, so I started convulsing. I did a pretty good job of freaking out Steph and her Mom. They called for an ambulance; thank God we were about a block from the hospital. Steph went to try and call my parents. Remember, this was pre-cell phones and she had to use a public phone and have the operator break in on the conversation that my brother was having with a friend so that Steph could tell my mother that I had gone funky again.

I don't remember too much about being at the hospital, except for the fact that I didn't realize that I was yelling at my mom when I thought I was just talking. I remember the person in the next bed telling me to "shut up." I guess my brain simply wasn't working right yet. I honestly can't remember how long I was there in the hospital. But I do remember waking up at home and looking at my face in the bathroom mirror and going "Oh my God!" My seizure had been so severe that I had popped the capillaries in my skin so my face was covered in little purple spots. I was started right again on the Tegretol; 200 mg tablets, one three times a day. I had to undergo the EEG again for testing. I hated those as they made you hyperventilate yourself to see how your brain functioned when your body was under distress. Yes, making yourself hyperventilate does majorly put your body under distress. I remember being in tears every time I had to have one of those. My parents had to keep a close eye on me for the next few month to make sure that I didn't "go funky" again. And once again, they seemed to be under control. Plus the fact that about two months after that I was diagnosed with mononucleosis and slept a lot. That really helped as well.

I remember being really bummed for a while as it sunk in that this probably wasn't going to be like what my other family members had gone through. This was something that I was going to have to learn to live with and deal with. I know that at the time I was really concerned about being able to get my drivers license. I had already done the required courses and gotten my learners permit. After  six months had gone by with no further seizure activity I was able to get a letter from my neurologist stating that I was okay to operate machinery. When I took the test the driver didn't let me pass because of the letter and I remember my dad had a small farm animal when that happened.  Then the first day of my junior year at Mt. Blue I got to retake the test and passed it with flying colors. Once again, I thought things were getting under control and I would get my life back in order. What could be any worse than what had already happened?

I don't think that there is enough paper in the world for me to list every other funky thing that was going to happen to me and to my family.

I've always loved the winter. I pretty much grew up in the state of Maine, and there you see alot of snow. Any Maine-ah's will know I'm not kidding. Some winters you got whammed with it, some were not as bad. But there was always snow. After I graduated from Mt. Blue High School in Farmington, Maine (Go Cougars!) I went to college in Springfield, Massachusetts. I ended up getting a position right after I graduated, so I stayed down here. You don't get as much down here in the Pioneer Valley. This year we had the Halloween Blizzard which dumped 14 inches of wet, heavy snow that put us without power for a week, and then we got another six-incher on February 29th. It was a wacky winter. In fact, I don't think you can logically call it a winter.

Anyway, with not having much snow this year and now that the clocks have sprung ahead I have found my brain doing a lot more thinking. That's probably because it's lighter later and my mind won't slow down as early as it did when it was dark by 4:30 in the afternoon. We have a park right behind our house and you can see and hear all the kids playing. It's refreshing to listen to. But it also makes me think more. And so much has happened to me the last five years that my brain won't stop regressing into it all. Actually, I can't say that it has just been the last five years, but the last 31 years.

My family and I lived in Bucksport, Maine at the time. My father was a pastor for the United Methodist Church, so we hopped around. I was eight years old and in third grade. I remember that it was April vacation and my Aunt Carolyn and cousin Joey were up visiting. Dad was down at the church, and the rest of us were at home. I remember going upstairs and getting in my jammies so that Joey, my brother Jonathan and I would watch the Magic of Disney that was on Sunday nights. I remember vividly what cartoon was on; the one where Mickey, Goofy and Donald Duck load up their car and attach at camper to it to go camping. I remember that they were driving around a really steep corner, and the car was on two wheels. All of a sudden I felt a really weird feeling in my stomach. I remember trying to say something, but it didn't come out. After that I don't know what happened.

I had apparently started having Grand-Mal seizures. I apparently had a lot of them. The ambulance was called, and it took thirty minutes to get me to the nearest hospital. From what I remember my parents telling me I underwent a slew of testing, including a spinal tap. My mother was concerned when they asked permission to do that and asked what they would find. The doctor told her "Mrs. Zarecki, you don't want us to find anything."  After all of the testing they told my parents that I had epilepsy. Basically what happens when one has a seizure your neurons get stuck in the "on" position and your brain basically overloads. I'm not sure how long I spent in the hospital. I don't remember much of it at all.

I know that when I finally got home everyone was walking on eggs. Until they were able to figure out which anti-convulsent was best for me it was a rocky road. One medicine made me break out like a strawberry. Another made me have such anger fits that my mother would have to literally hold me down so I wouldn't hurt myself or my brother. They finally got me on Tegretol, which my body handled well. The seizures seemed to be under control.

In talking to my mother about how I was scared about the seizures, I found that she had mild seizures when she was a teenager, but grew out of them. If I remember correctly, she said the same thing had happened to my Nana, her mother. So I was optimistic that the same would happen for me.

Was I ever wrong.

Next: The Mosquito With Christmas Lights.