Seizure the Day

I was so proud of myself last night.  It's the day before registration and two days before classes begin.  I had two out of three syllabi completed and had managed to wash dishes, taking care of whatever had died in the kitchen sink.  It was about 11:30 pm, I had taken melatonin, and for once, I was actually getting to sleep at a decent time the night before I had to get up early in the morning.  All was well in the Bro household, and me, the perpetual night owl, was actually going to sleep early (yes, some, including Jeremy, might argue that 11:30 is not early, but for me, anything before midnight is early).  After triple checking, I even had the alarm and the clock both set the the right times, and I peacefully drifted off to sleep.

12:30 am
Audrey has a seizure.  It's the first one in almost three months.  I had hoped that maybe food was the problem, and that when I started making homemade dog food, I had finally solved the seizure problem.  Nope.  I'm groggy as crap after taking the melatonin, so I stumble out of bed and trip over the lap top board I'd stuck on the floor.  After about 15 minutes, I go back, clean up poop, mop the floor, then chase Audrey around the kitchen.  She's always a little hyper after a seizure, and for some reason doesn't really want me cleaning up her face and butt.  Around and around the kitchen table we go like I'm playing some sort of doggy Olympic game. 

Finally, everything cleaned up, it's back to bed I go.  Except now I can't quit thinking about all the stuff I need to do for work.  So my mind keeps going.  I try the alphabet song, but instead my mind wanders and I find myself trying to remember the pronunciation of all the letters in Spanish and wondering why I can't roll my r's.  I try counting, but for some reason, I slide into the old theme song for the Electric Company (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12--over and over to the Electric Company tune.  Yes, it's a very complicated song).  Then I start to contemplate why people decided to start counting sheep when they wanted to fall asleep.  I mean really, sheep?  Sheep jumping over a fence?  Why not something like pizza or cake or fudge or (okay, so maybe I was feeling a little snacky).  For some reason, this contemplation brought me to Nursery Rhymes and the realization that I couldn't remember more than a few lines of most of them  (I know it's "There was an old lady who lived in a shoe/she had so many children, she didn't know what to do, but for the life of me I couldn't remember any more).  Next, I tried the basic Ohm mediation noise, but started realizing I no longer remember what the scientific ohms are for (electricity maybe?  Was there some sort of subconscious connection I was making to the Electric Company theme song?).  At some point, I think around 2:30, I finally fell back to sleep.  I just wish I could remember what it was I was thinking that made me fall back to sleep--obviously not counting sheep.  Maybe counting lamb pasanda and garlic naan?

3:30 am
Audrey has another seizure.  I gave in and had that snack I must have been thinking about the last time I tried to go back to sleep.  Was I hungry?  No.  But nothing says "I'm waiting for my dog to come out of her seizure" like chips and french onion dip at 3:30 in the morning.  See above for the repeat of cleaning, chasing Audrey around the table, cleaning Audrey, and back to bed.  This time, though, I was so tired that I fell right back to sleep.  Must have been the snack.

4:30 am
Jack, after all the excitement, decides that he needs to go out.  It's really a rather quiet way he has of waking me up, but oh so effective and annoying.  So, at 4:30 am, I wake up to a gigantic dog head right next to my face, panting very loudly (note to self: both dogs also need some serious breath mints).  So, up I go again.  I let Jack out of the bedroom, and he starts walking in the opposite direction of the back door.  Groggily, I look at him.  What the heck.  I did not get up to let him out of the bedroom.  I don't care whether he has to go or not, he's going outside.  I don't know why I decided this--probably because I was not really awake.  I let Jack out and sit on the back porch to wait.  I'm pretty sure he does absolutely nothing except sniff around.  In the meantime, Fargo, our outdoor cat, has decided it's wonderful that I'm up at this time because I can now pay attention to him.  Did I mention it's 4:30 in the morning?  Did I mention that Fargo has this odd habit of drooling when he's happy?  Ten minutes later and much soggier, I get Jack back inside and hit the bed once again.

6:30 am
I've now been mainlining coffee for about half an hour.  I'm almost ready for work, don't have to leave for another half hour, and am looking forward to just chilling for a bit and mainlining more coffee.  Then Audrey has another seizure.  I know I should be more concerned, since she normally only has maybe 1 or 2 a month, but my brain is just not functioning at full capacity.  It's not even functioning at its normal half capacity.  Again, we repeat the cleaning, chasing, cleaning.  I think, by now, Audrey smells akin to a sewage treatment facility, but the best I can do is scrub her off a bit with a rag and spray doggy cologne.

8 am
I go to start up my computer in my office, which I haven't used since last May.  The virus software starts sending out error reports.  Every 10 seconds a new error report.  I can't do anything.  I click to open my browser, error report.  I click to open an email, error report.  I try not sending them, I try sending them, I try debugging.  Always the problem-solver, I finally just decide to uninstall the thing.  After all, it's the last big student registration day before classes start.  And I need to work on my own classes when I don't have students.  And, essentially, there is nothing for me to do without a computer.  I get the software almost uninstalled, and the whole thing freezes up.  Sigh, time to call IT.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, my co-worker, Marla, is also without a computer since her internet access is down.  We spend the next two and a half hours waiting for our computers.  I drink 3 more caffeinated sodas and go the bathroom about the same amount of times.  Yay for me!  Productivity.  My only insightful thought was how great it would be if someone would make caffeinated milk.

2 pm
I've finally had my computer back since 10:30.  I'm making great progress on that last class.  Syllabi is done and I'm just revamping the handouts and setting up the web class for them to access everything.  Then I get a double whammy.  1) The caffeine no longer seems to be working at all.  I just feel loopy.  2) The McDonald's I grabbed for a quick lunch literally feels like it is stabbing me in the gut.  But on the plus side, so far Jeremy doesn't think Audrey's had any more seizures, and I am almost finished with my last class.  That is, until I took on an overload class, which is a different one than any others that I was currently set to teach this fall.  Which gives me a day or two to get that whole class set up.  And I'm no longer thinking in any way that could be termed logical.

5:20 pm
I get home from work.  I have about 40 minutes before I have to get up for Lion's Club tonight, and all I can think is naptime!!!  I walk in the door.  Jeremy's sitting in the kitchen, looking completely wiped out.  Audrey had another seizure.  Jeremy had to call the vet and fly over (luckily, they stayed open late for him) to pick up a valium prescription for Audrey and make her a vet appointment for tomorrow.  Audrey is walking around like a drunken sailor, weaving around.  She has no coordination, but wants to try and eat everything, including my toes.  She had her seizure in the middle of the bed, so no nap on the bed since it now needs to be cleaned up and have new bedding put on it.  I feel fried.  I decide I'm just gonna go nap on the couch.  I totter off to the living room, lay down on the couch, and discover Audrey had had another seizure there.  I'm laying on wet cushions and there's a piece of poo stuck to my leg.  I have hit whiny mode.  I just look at Jeremy and whine "there's a piece of poo stuck to me."  He just looks at me and says "Just leave the couch alone--we'll go make the bed up instead."  I just stare at him, sorta dazed, "but I've got poo on me."  Is it disgusting?  Yes.  Should I be running to the kitchen to clean myself up.  Yes.  Am I?  No.  Instead, I'm just standing there, repeating the fact that I've got poo stuck to me.  Never mind the fact that, hey, there is a point I can reach where I will walk away and leave poo on my couch. 

6 pm
I think Jeremy ushered me into the kitchen.  It was at that point we both decided we probably should just skip Lion's Club.  Somehow, we half-assedly made the bed.  I was out of pepto tabs, so I had taken some tums for my stomach, but they hadn't kicked in.  Instead, I just laid there thinking "my stomach hurts" for about 20 minutes.  Finally, I decided to get up.  I seem to have absolutely no energy, but a complete inability to sleep.  I need to let the dogs out and feed all the animals.  I need to do something about the Hindenburg sized pile of dirty laundry.  I figure the plants can just die for all I care.  Stupid things think they need water.  I need to finish up the latest batch of dog food, get it put in containers, and scrub out my giant slow cooker.  I should be working on my classes.  Instead, I grabbed a beer and started blogging.  I think my tummy feels better.  Maybe beer should be marketed for upset stomachs.