I was going to post this yesterday, but Collin, who never gets sick (I've asked him more than once when the mothership is returning for him), actually got sick. He missed work yesterday and was sent home today, right after he got there. The health department, it seems, frowns upon restaurant employees puking on the job.
He's been having gastrointestinal issues for the past week. Hard to believe, since this is my baby boy, who would put leftovers from restaurant meals in his backpack and eat them a week later, when he remembered he had them. I always thought it would be my cooking or fossilized pizza that brought him down.
He's in bed now, where he's been since he got home. His doctor prescribed a bland diet and lots of fluids for now. A bland diet is good. Easier to clean up when it won't stay down.
Anyway, my post for yesterday--today--was planned to be about my latest visit to my neurologist. Ever since I learned, back in June, that I'd had a tiny stroke, I've been apprehensive. I watched my mom suffer through multiple major strokes until she could no longer do anything for herself and didn't recognize Collin or me. I expected the worst. Going to sleep at night became a cliffhanger. I wondered if I'd even wake up in the morning.
That all changed on Wednesday.
After a thorough examination, my doctor told me that the spells I've been having--periodic speech problems, tremors, zero concentration, short-term memory issues--are not TIAs (transient ischemic attacks) but seizures. Mind you, seizures are no picnic--even mine, which are not the convulsions most people associate with epilepsy--but I'll take seizures over strokes any day. It's like the 2016 election, with Hillary Clinton being the seizures and Donald Trump being the strokes. You don't really want either one, but better to go with the one that will do the least amount of damage. You can't fix strokes.
I told her that I haven't been able to write for some time time now, beyond blog posts and obnoxious comments on Facebook. What once came so easily is now a struggle. I've considered giving up. Actually, I gave up more than once. I considered taking on ghostwriters. I have the ideas, I just haven't been able to turn the ideas into complete novels. And then I told myself it was time to retire, stop and smell the roses and all that.
I told myself the market isn't what it used to be. I'm not the writer I used to be. I'm not interested in doing the kind of books that end up on the bestseller lists anymore. There are more writers and fewer readers now. I've used every excuse in the book. But the truth is, I want to write. I just can't.
My doctor thinks that may not be a permanent issue. Seizures not strokes, right? It can be fixed. I can be fixed. Maybe. A change in meds, and time will tell....