July 31, 2007

• Seizures

  My son has had one brain operation to deaden the pathways the broadcast the point of the seizure to the rest of the brain.  If was a successful operation and that point was no longer "firing" seizures.  However, there was another smaller point doing the same thing; kinda' insignificant compared to the other one.  But as the brain can do, it managed to let the other point take over and start firing seizures again.

  After more tests at Ruby Memorial Hospital (WVU), it was determined that he's again a prime candidate for having this surgery a second time for the different point.  Not many have this done.  He's had the pre-admission testing and we're waiting on a phone call today on what time his surgery is tomorrow.  So, another brain surgery will happen tomorrow and maybe, just maybe, then end of all seizures!  We're hoping and praying that this will be the last surgery and the last of any seizures.

  For right now, the wait for that phone call is killing me.

  The Fog

  The other evening was one of the first evenings that I've really sat down with anyone and tried to explain the Fog, my Fog.  It was only family, but I think they have a better glimpse of what has happened in my mind with the Fog.  My youngest son, whose wife left him right before he went on a 6 month tour (in the military when they got married), is going through a similar Fog and we got to really share and understand more about it.

  I think the similarities of the Fog is so, hmm, similar, that it's eerie.  Though we can't understand the Fog through the same media (mine through a car accident and his through a divorce), he's in that Fog where it's hard to see.  We found each other the other night, and we all just had a time together to share, and to start understanding how another's Fog is.

  Then my oldest son admitted his Fog about the surgery tomorrow.  We all have been "enlighten" more about each other and can empathize more.  We're not alone, though the Fog makes it seem that way.

  So crying out in the Fog can help, and sometimes you find another with whom you can share.  And then you realize that there is still survival, though you may not want to survive.  We just need to reach out for others, and others are hard to find when the Fog is dense.

  And my Hunni is still there, not only for me, but also for my sons.  She seems to be the light that we're attracted to for help.

  My Hunni

  Another story to tell is about her strength.  I'll tell that story sometime.  She has overcome breast surgery, but there has been many trials and hardships.  And there's also been complications.  But she's strong.....as I think that most women are (that's why God had them have babies and not men! - little levity).

  The FogWalker packs for leaving.....

  • 10:57 am
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