I have a professor who talked about a whole bunch of stuff on April 24th...the Tuesday I was still in the hospital. He apparently talked about something called MyITLab- a place where you can take quizzes as many times as you like until you get the grade you like. Sounds cool, right?
It probably is....except when you can't find it. I emailed one of the TAs and he said something about "what we talked about on the first day of class". I emailed back and told him I wasn't there the first day because of a 10 day hospital stay but he has yet to email me back. I hope he gets it before midnight, when it's due. I came in at 8:30, figuring a 20 point open notes/packet quiz would never take me 3.5 hours. I thought it would take me something like 15 minutes for each quiz (there are two 20 point quizzes which are apparently and assuredly easy). I find myself nervously sitting here waiting for an answer. I'm writing another program facilitation/intervention plan just to pass the time. I find I really enjoy writing them- it gives me an opportunity to be creative with a purpose. I make up clients and their histories, their problems and needs, then try to think of an out-of-the-box way to administer therapy.
Apparently writing FIPs is easier than using a program meant to make things streamlined and fast. I guess the "streamlined and fast" thing is only for professors?
As a student, I'm lost. What gives?
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Epilepsy has really been kicking my ass lately- Tuesday I had a seizure where I banged my face on a desk on my way down to the floor; blood was everywhere. So was drool and...well...other fluids. Worst part is that these stupid seizures have been happening in public far more often than I'd like and far more than they ever have before. I know have no control over it and everyone is so kind but I feel guilty that people have to help me. In fact, I not only feel guilty, I hate it. I hate possibly taking these people away from a legitimate emergency. The only time a seizure is an emergency is when there is blood (which is why I wasn't upset about Tuesday's visit from the Uni-town FireMedics) or if my seizure is lasting longer than 8 minutes. If that's happening then I don't mind waking up to the radio chatter, six people in intimidating blue, and blood pressure cuffs. Which really hurt after a seizure. I usually cry and steal the pulse-oximeter. Postictally I get obsessed with that thing. I'm thinking about buying one and putting it in my "seizure box" so they can trick me into holding my own while they get theirs back. My brain is easily tricked! That will probably work, actually (hmmm.).
The campus EMTs don't make a big fuss about helping me and neither do the city Paramedics, but I feel so guilty. I know it's their job and all but surely they have things far more important than watching a girl do a fish-out-of-water routine, bleed everywhere, and soak themselves in drool. I also hate that they've been happening in places where other people can see. I used to be able to seize in private- it wasn't that I was ashamed of it, rather that I feel like it's a more personal act- I didn't want people to see me that way because I didn't want them to put my in that box where I become "that epileptic girl" instead of EpicEpileptic- the dancer, linguist, patriot, poet, and loyal friend. I have many positive things in my life that I feel get overshadowed by my seizures. Maybe I'm wrong and it's just me being self-conscious but that's certainly the way I've felt these last few days.
We have finally discovered (well, have likely discovered) the cause of these freakishly frequent seizures; caffeine. I began taking Excedrin Migraine for my constant headaches and the staggering amount of caffeine was making my brain go NUTS. I took it earlier today before I talked to my doctor and I'm not taking it ever again unless it's in a controlled environment (I'm taking Advil LiquiGels. They were doctor recommended :) )
Basically he told me I was going to seize until all that shite got out of my system. All I could say was, "Oh joy."
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Funny note- I had a dream last night (after the police man deposited me on the couch where I proceeded to sleep for 11 hours like an addict on a binge) that I was in hospital but had to play pipes at the senior ceili so I took out my own IVs and "escaped". Played just fine, went back to the hospital and was readmitted like nothing ever happened. It was one of those dreams where it felt so real I turned on my level-lamp and checked my arms for IV bruises.
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