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.