Funny how much we can remember

It was a simple partial last night -- threatening to become a complex, because while I was very much awake and aware, I was having serious issues responding to any external stimuli, and all my senses were going insane. I both enjoy and hate these sensations of feeling as though I am on mild hits of acid and ecstasy.
It was a random one, not necessarily caused by much aside from my being tired. I was in the living room, typing on my laptop, and very abruptly got that familiar feeling of "oh gods the world is falling away and I'm about to fall and my body is disappearing" disorientation that often precedes a strong aura. Have you ever experienced nausea with your entire body, not just your stomach? Not the kind where you know you will be sick, but the kind that makes you feel as though you are on a moving boat and the waves are rocking from all sides, expect that nothing under your feet feels solid.
I immediately thought, "Oh, must take pill," and got up and
v e r y ... s l o w l y
began walking down the hall to the staircase, holding onto the walls and breathing hard. I heard Adam in the kitchen but it was near impossible for me to be able to walk in and talk to him. I just had to get to the staircase and
up the stairs
without the world falling
away
Adam had painted the walls leading up the stairs with a colorful splash of abstract art, made to look like ocean and sky and mountains and fields. To me in this state, it looked monstrous and deep. I grabbed the bannister on one side, the wall on the other, and took the stairs with a hesitation born from an irrational worry that they would suddenly turn flat like a ramp and I'd slip backwards. I got to the bedroom, flipped on the light, went to my bureau, grabbed the bottle of Trileptal, took one with a huge gulp of bottled water, rested for a minute, and then turned around to go back.
As I neared the stairs, Tuesday was sitting on top of the narrow half wall. I stroked her head absently, and very quickly she smacked a paw down on my forearm and stared at me with narrow eyes. I looked at her and said, "I'm okay, baby." And she immediately removed her paw.
I went downstairs carefully and walked back to the living room and my couch. I sat straight for a minute, deep breathing, realizing that if something happened outside of myself, I would not be able to respond immediately. And then Adam came in, was about to go to the other couch, then looked at me and paused. He came over and asked if I was okay. Then he asked again. Then he asked again. And then he stood on my feet, and asked two more times. Finally, my brain caught up with me. I muttered, "Please stop doing that."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I don't like it." And I managed to lift my head and actually look him in the eye, something I am unable to do during a seizure for some reason.
He was satisfied. I could see it working in his mind, "Ah, wife having a seizure. Okay. Is she conscious? Is she upright? Is she talking? She's not in danger. That's fine then."
It is that sort of casual, level, calculated cool-headedness that I need. My husband doesn't get upset, panicked, scared, or grossed out easily. After all, he is a former volunteer EMT. He's seen serious gory wounds, waded through human blood, gathered up messy body parts, watched people die, and on one memorable occasion that led to him quitting that job, he picked up the head of a decapitated motorcyclist at the site of a gruesome collision, took it to his EMT buddies, and said, "Hey, his helmet still works! His head is fine!" And then laughed hysterically for three hours and quit later that day.
He is more than well-equipped to handle an epileptic.

After my episode, I was extremely emotional, slightly embarrased and guilty (what if I did things I couldn't remember, etc), upset for a minute, and then sleepy.

Wikipedia puts it best:
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Fucking fuck.

We're not going to New York.

Plans got changed.

Adam is still going to have to go to the job on Long Island on Tuesday, but he will only be driving up on Tuesday morning. He just can't go up beforehand, because apparently the client won't know exactly what they will need until Monday, and it is pointless to bring the van and the equipment up the weekend before without knowing what will be needed.

I understand, although I fail to see the logic.

Anyway, never mind.

Remind me to never make any concrete travel plans when it involves my husband's work. I just had to call my parents and tell the answering machine that I won't be seeing them. And Mom cancelled all her classes and stuff for Monday and Tuesday, too.

The only bright side to this is that my boss told me that if I wanted to take a weekend anytime soon for us to go there, on our own, no strings attached, I could have a Friday and Monday off. He sympathizes.

I'd love to strangle someone, but I don't know who that is.

Time to suppress the aggravation and just smile blankly.

slightly sweet grapes

Mom said that this would have been a bad weekend to drive up anyway. Memorial Day weekend is the time when everyone crowds the roads trying to get places. It would have been hell.

There's always June. Or July. Or... hell, whenever.

So this turned out for the best anyway.

anniversary gifts

Oh, and thank you to everyone who sent anniversary presents, from appliances to cards to money to home decorations. Everything is much appreciated and will be put to good use.

have and hold

In response to shadesong in one of her recent posts.

I was raised to believe in faith. I was raised by an atheist mother of Russian/Romanian/Jewish descent and an agnostic father of pure Sicilian descent who both admitted to having witchcraft in their blood. I was raised to believe not in a god, or religion, but the idea of faith. If I wanted to say that lots of gods spoke to me or just one very loud god, that was fine.
My husband believes in faith more strongly than I do. In our shared eclectic-Druid pagan faith, we believe that the divinity we seek is already in us, not in a church or a priest, but in us and in nature and in the universe.

I believe in doing the best thing you can for everyone.
I believe that people are not good or evil, just actions.
I believe in shades of gray.
I believe in working for a greater good, but more importantly for yourself.
I believe that you must love yourself before you can love anyone else, including a deity.
I believe in love.
I believe in trust.
I believe in the universe, the world, nature, humanity, myself, the astral planes, the spirit world, and the inner mind.
I believe.
I just believe.

Brigit says hi, by the way. So do Danu, the Morrigan, Isis, Bast, and Horus. These are my deities that have called me, and yes, I believe in them. They'd still exist even if I didn't, so why not? So says Terry Prachett (and Granny Weatherwax and the wizards of Unseen University).
And Neil Gaiman.