March vs. Kristin
Well, look at that, March is halfway over and so far, in the battle of March vs. Kristin, I'm winning. When I wrote my last post, I was reminded that in 2012, March was not a very enjoyable month for me. I promised I'd share more, so here it is.
March that year was crazy. I interviewed, was offered and accepted my current position. All great things. Then as I began to pack my apartment to move to yet another city and state, I had the ULTIMATE nightmare. No need to go into great detail but basically I saw death. Coming for me. My heart still races thinking about it. Of course, I yelled at it it go away because I had things to do, a new job to kick butt in, a new city to explore, etc.
I obviously scared death away because I'm here blogging. But apparently death wanted to give me a warning. Because then, a few days later, Sunday happened. And I have no recollection of Sunday through I think Wednesday or Friday, so this is all second-hand knowledge of what has been told to me.
That Sunday, I called my parents and apparently was talking all sorts of gibberish, potentially not even English. My parents may worry too much about my sisters and I but it isn't always a bad thing. Because of that phone call, they called 911 to send help to my apartment. (They are in Nebraska. At the time, I was in Wisconsin. Not close enough for them to just swing by and check on me.) When the paramedics arrived, I let them into my apartment. And they took me away.
I was having seizures. Lots of seizures.
I lived from 1981 until 2012 without ever having a seizure and then had a bunch all in one day.
They drove me the ER and I continued to have seizures in the ambulance. The paramedics or someone in the hospital let my parents know what was going on and they hit the road to take care of me.
The medical team couldn't determine with certainty what caused the day of seizures. They strongly suspect it was my out-of-control, high blood sugars.
I was able to leave the hospital, we finished packing my apartment and prepared to move me to my next city and state. When I was released from the hospital, I was informed I would not get to drive for three months. So, Mom and Dad made the decision -- Mom would move to my new city and state with me and live with me until I could drive. Awesome. Just what every 30 year old wants. I was placed on some medicine, which we'll discuss in July when I celebrate, knock on wood, two years without being admitted into a hospital. (Really, it is the small things.)
March obviously likes to attempt to kick my butt when you think about it. I was diagnosed with diabetes in March of 1990 (I'll post next week about that) and a crazy day of seizures happened in March of 2012. Other things have happened in past Marches but those are two of the big ones. I'd like to point out that despite its many attempts, March isn't winning. So, take that March! (Yes, I'm absolutely sticking my tongue out at it.)
And, if you'd like to know, I have yet to have a seizure since that day!
I'd like to add a footnote about the amazing paramedics who rescued me. Despite destroying my favorite Chicago Nebraska alumni t-shirt, they were amazing for not only saving my life, but going back to my apartment and taking care of my dog until my parents could take him to be boarded.
March that year was crazy. I interviewed, was offered and accepted my current position. All great things. Then as I began to pack my apartment to move to yet another city and state, I had the ULTIMATE nightmare. No need to go into great detail but basically I saw death. Coming for me. My heart still races thinking about it. Of course, I yelled at it it go away because I had things to do, a new job to kick butt in, a new city to explore, etc.
I obviously scared death away because I'm here blogging. But apparently death wanted to give me a warning. Because then, a few days later, Sunday happened. And I have no recollection of Sunday through I think Wednesday or Friday, so this is all second-hand knowledge of what has been told to me.
That Sunday, I called my parents and apparently was talking all sorts of gibberish, potentially not even English. My parents may worry too much about my sisters and I but it isn't always a bad thing. Because of that phone call, they called 911 to send help to my apartment. (They are in Nebraska. At the time, I was in Wisconsin. Not close enough for them to just swing by and check on me.) When the paramedics arrived, I let them into my apartment. And they took me away.
I was having seizures. Lots of seizures.
I lived from 1981 until 2012 without ever having a seizure and then had a bunch all in one day.
They drove me the ER and I continued to have seizures in the ambulance. The paramedics or someone in the hospital let my parents know what was going on and they hit the road to take care of me.
The medical team couldn't determine with certainty what caused the day of seizures. They strongly suspect it was my out-of-control, high blood sugars.
I was able to leave the hospital, we finished packing my apartment and prepared to move me to my next city and state. When I was released from the hospital, I was informed I would not get to drive for three months. So, Mom and Dad made the decision -- Mom would move to my new city and state with me and live with me until I could drive. Awesome. Just what every 30 year old wants. I was placed on some medicine, which we'll discuss in July when I celebrate, knock on wood, two years without being admitted into a hospital. (Really, it is the small things.)
March obviously likes to attempt to kick my butt when you think about it. I was diagnosed with diabetes in March of 1990 (I'll post next week about that) and a crazy day of seizures happened in March of 2012. Other things have happened in past Marches but those are two of the big ones. I'd like to point out that despite its many attempts, March isn't winning. So, take that March! (Yes, I'm absolutely sticking my tongue out at it.)
And, if you'd like to know, I have yet to have a seizure since that day!
I'd like to add a footnote about the amazing paramedics who rescued me. Despite destroying my favorite Chicago Nebraska alumni t-shirt, they were amazing for not only saving my life, but going back to my apartment and taking care of my dog until my parents could take him to be boarded.
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