Talking To The Brain, etc.

So, yeah.

Today so far has been a day of "Let's drug Joanna up with opiates, anaglesics, muscoloskeletal relaxants, caffeine, migraine remedies, skin hydrators, itch relief, cramp relief, nausea relief, anti-fatigue supplements, and focusing supplements."
I woke up at 11:30, felt sick, took a very long shower with very hot water, took half an hour to get dressed, then fell back onto the bed, where a cat inevitably sat on me and licked my face.
I went inside my brain to talk to my Frontal Lobe, represented by a stern, petite Eastern European woman with sharp cheekbones, multi-colored eyes, pouty lips, bronze skin, calico hair, sturdy curves, long hands, a sloped nose, and a deep voice.
"What about food?" I asked. "My digestive system is being uncooperative right now."
"I know," she said. "Go get that high-calorie nutrient-dense smoothie you bought at Fresh Market and then make an acai smoothie when you're ready. Later, try some plain cheddar and soup. I had a conference with the medulla oblongata about that. Don't take anything for the digestive stuff, by the way."
"You sure? Because you know the amygdala and I..."
"Yes, yes. But I mean it. You can drink some Pepto Bismol if you really want, but you need that nutrition. Go pick those cherry tomatoes out back, too. And the water. Keep drinking the moringa water and the sea buckthorn tea."
"Did the medulla oblongata tell you that?"
"Yes. Every part tells me everything."
I paused. "Can... can you make me hurt less?"
She bit her lower lip. "Well... see, the nociceptors tend to have minds of their own. Like teenagers and toddlers rebelling and tantruming. Well, also like adults tantruming. Have you ever seen a grown person throw a tantrum?"
"Of course. It's embarrassing."
"So... I can team up with some of my other parts to try. But keep in mind that considering our massive damage and dead parts, there is only so much we can do. But we can make sure to help you stay upright and conscious and able to respond to external stimuli. The limbic system is a little twitchy, though. It's making the hippocampus twitchy, too."
"Oh, hell," I said. "What about seizure warnings?"
She paused. "I can try. I promise I will try."
I nodded. "I know. I know how busy you are."
She smiled. "I'll keep an eye on the temporal lobes and parietal lobes."
I nodded. "Thank you, Lady."
"Just rest for now. Okay? Keep yourself calm. We will be here for you."
The Frontal Lobe representation held out her arms. I slowly moved forward, and she embraced my mental avatar. Her touch and body radiated cold and hot and kindness and love and severity and power and strength and control and understanding. I couldn't put the rest of it into words. I was a pebble at the bottom of a river, with ripples widening all around me.

My meditation ended. I opened my eyes and stretched my neck, and felt almost refreshed, except for the parts that hurt so badly I almost left my body.
So I sit here, typing very very slowly with what sections of my Neocortex will allow through all this fog, casually watching animated films in the background to relax me and give me humor. I am very cold, wearing a silk cardigan (when did I acquire all these silk cardigans anyway?) and considering warming up the house because the Raynaud's Disease is attacking. But I trust the Frontal Lobe to take control as much as possible.
We will see what happens.

(Also, if anyone on my friends list knows more about this sort of thing that I do, please feel free to correct me in the comments.
http://www.brainhealthandpuzzles.com/brain_parts_function.html)

Being Alice: Lobes and cortexes and neurons, oh my...

This is what I wrote on Facebook about fifteen minutes ago:

Oh Em Gee. Don't you hate when you trip over nothing due to intense sciatic pain combined with fibromyalgia muscle burning combined with hemiparetic hypertonic spasming, and then you have a partial complex epileptic seizure that wipes out part of your memory of the last few days? It would be fun, except it's not. :-D
I am really, really grateful for Facebook and Livejournal, and I am even more grateful that I update both quite a lot. Oh, wow, I did that? I said that? Good to know!
Anyway, I'm going to relax and eat some chicken and broccoli.
Love you! ♥

Now:
My head hurts (more) and I feel actually hungry, and I really don't remember much of yesterday or the day before. Tsk tsk.
The breaded chicken broccoli cutlet I am heating should be done by now. I have... things to do. I think. I really do need to rest.

That's all. I think. Damn it.

http://www.human-memory.net/brain_parts.html
Oh, Google. You help more than you know.

Speaking through my fingers

I don't know why I find this so strange, but this is my brain:
During these post-ictal severe pain states, I tend to be quite verbose and effusive in writing much more than I am in verbal speech.
Talking with my voice becomes mildly improbable, weak, abstract, and inept as I stumble. But in writing, my brain can move quickly, pause to check itself, and encourage my fingers to pull forth just the right words.
Naturally, my parents frown upon my constant use of the internet's social media to communicate, including email, because they want to hear my voice, which they call mellifluous. But there is no dulcet fluidity in a voice whose owner has been struck with temporary neurological damage.
However, sometimes communicating via writing, typing, and online social media really is just that much more powerful. And it gives my mouth and throat ample time to rest while those complex speech areas of my brain that had been momentarily damaged can gather themselves and become once more coherent.
It really is very embarrassing to speak out loud and find my words too jumbled, my tongue tripping up, my emotions spilling over until my voice cracks because I cannot convey what I need beyond the simplest of words in the manner of a fairly intellectual toddler.
Even when I have been hit by those neuron storms, words are very easy to find. Making sure others hear those words in the context I need can be so difficult that I bring myself to tears.
I am certain you know what I mean, friend's list.

Too many words; too few words. Visual is better.

Hmm... so here we are. A wee bit of a swing between depression and hypomania and postictal bliss within the postictal state. I may start rambling without conclusion. Or something. Also I am twitchy and spastic and it hurts because it won't stop; it's like isometrics without conscious exercising. I feel the world shattering and mending itself in the blink of an eye, over and over. I'm staying still until I need to move. It will stop soon. Always does. Then I will be sore and hypertonic and tired.
Conclusion: I am documenting myself. Also, whargarrbl.
http://www.epilepsy.com/epilepsy/newsletter/aug09_postictal

Chocolate!

Vegetables?
No.
CHOCOLATE!
FOREVER...
(vegetables later)
http://greenandblacks.com/us/our-chocolates/bars/espresso.html

(http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html)