Just back from the neurologist's office.
I've lost another pound; down to 92. Elayna is officially 48.8 pounds and 46 inches tall.
Discussed stuff. Quality of life, etc. Side effects, etc.
So. Take two on the treatment, since my body is dealing with the Lamictal in bizarre ways.
New medication: Keppra. Going to be 1,000mg/day. I'll be building it up as I scale the Lamictal down... for seven weeks of Major side effect risk and some increased seizure risk.
It is so fun being me.
Q: But 'song, isn't a change of medication what you wanted?
A: Yes. Because current side effects are unlivable.
But what I really wanted, what I really really wanted, was for the doctor to come in and say words to the effect of "I looked at your MRI again and oops! I read it wrong the first time and you don't really have epilepsy. That was just stress, not seizures. Sorry about that."
I wonder when I'll stop hoping that. I mean, likely never. But I wonder when I'll stop part-expecting it and being crushed when it doesn't happen.
I am unaccustomed to this being my-life-from-now-on. I'm not living in denial, but I can see it from here.
I don't know how to stop waiting for a rescue that'll never come.
Now I'm all freaky-outy and wondering if it's better to stay on Lamictal because, y'know, The Devil You Know.
Scary scary scary. What if it doesn't work? What if the side effects are worse? What if what if...
I WANT A FUCKING PONY.
EDIT: Or an iPod. I am placing a call. My parents are in a mall that has an Apple store.
I'll be more okay tomorrow. Promise.
Tonight we go clothes shopping for The Kid.
Tomorrow, registration. She wants to do Drama Club and Chess Club this year.
Thursday, another doctor, but I don't really want to think about that right now.
Is being sympathetic and protective.
I think I'm not the only one with brain damage.
My nine-year-old likes Tom Waits.
Granted, the song she's singing along with is from the Shrek 2 soundtrack... but she says his voice is "rough", and she likes it.