Tough Decisions

I've been MIA on blogspot lately, so I decided I better type a little somethin' up to keep this fella rolling.

I think I'm going to bring things down a level and type something more serious than usual, because more serious things have been on my mind... and I guess it's okay to show I have more than one dimension.

How do you make a big decision? Up until this point, I'd say that I've made three big decisions in my life. The first one was when I was a sophomore at a university and decided after my first semester away that I wouldn't be a failure if I moved back home and finished up the school year at a community college, and then moved to a different university when I was a junior. The second one was deciding that I was ready to get married when I was 23-years-old. The third one was when I dried up my tears and decided to have a Vagal Nerve Stimulator (VNS) implanted to try to treat my epilepsy.

The scariest decision of the three was having that surgery. I didn't understand what a VNS was. I didn't know how risky it was, I did know that I hated having epilepsy, had never planned to have such a life-changing medical problem and didn't ever intend to have surgery to fix it because I hate spending any amount of time focusing on this problem. I'd rather ignore it, but epilepsy doesn't like to be ignored. When I realized that the worst that could happen with a VNS implantation was nothing and that it was mostly covered by my insurance, I decided to go for it. The best that could happen was that I would be treated. Maybe with no medicines, maybe with minimal medicines, but I could finally act like I didn't have epilepsy and leave the past in the past. Why would I pass up the opportunity to feel like I did when I was 20 and move on with my life? Pursue my careers and social life and not let this medical problem effect anything?

For a while, things were looking really good. I saw small improvements each month. I even got a part-time job and then something I thought I'd never be able to do... a 40 hour a week career that I'd wanted since I was 12-years-old. But there was still a problem. I was still having weekly seizures, I could only handle the job if I slept 10 hours a night, so my social life was limited to Saturday, and my job changed to odd hours that my health couldn't handle, even with the VNS. I wasn't fixed.

I don't want complain, though I may during my darkest times. I refuse to ask "why me," because, really, why not me? I'm not going to give this health problem to anyone else. But there are so many things that I miss. I do go out with my friends when they are around, because the VNS has gotten me to that point. But when they leave, I'm left feeling sick. I work 3-5 hours 5 days a week, with no added activities, at a job that a high school student could handle, and it leaves me drained and with regular seizures. My husband comes home to find me sleeping because my four medications leave me so weary that when I wake up, I don't even have a story about my day to share with him, I was too exhausted to do anything all day. Sometimes, I forget where I am, sometimes I forget why I'm holding something in my hands, sometimes I forget who I am when I wake up.

I miss having a clear head. I miss having a fun night with friends and feeling well the days that follow. I miss having the energy to do things in my free time, with no seizures, and telling my husband when he comes home because I'm awake when he opens the door.

I have no right to complain, because I'm doing so much better than I was five years ago, when my days were spent clinging to my bed, wishing I could work 3-5 hours at a college kid's job. Wishing I could at least take a walk around my block.

I'm writing this because I have a decision to make and I don't know how to make it. Soon, I will decide if I should pursue the diagnostic tests to see if I'm eligible for brain surgery. This could be my last chance to be that girl I was when I was 20. Or, there is a 20% chance that I will have stroke-like symptoms. At first, this was too upsetting for me to even consider... but then I started to think that maybe I shouldn't pass up on an opportunity to be my better self. That is, it's worth considering if there is a possibility that I can recuperate from the worst case scenario.

Everyone reminds me that this is my decision to make and no one else's. That is true. Only I know what my day-to-day life has been like for the last five years. But if I should choose to have the surgery, it doesn't just effect me. It effects everyone who loves me. I think that's what makes it hard.

Everyone who loves me has felt the effects of my epilepsy in their own way... and now if I make this decision and it doesn't go well, they'll feel those effects, too. But if I have it and it does go well... I can't even describe what that would be like. Elated, ecstatic... those don't even begin to describe how I'd feel if I had my old self back.