A Shaky Night

Maisy had a seizure this morning. Actually it was more in the night than the morning, and had she not crawled into my room and touched my arm; and had I not pulled her into bed by me to warm her up before taking her back to her own room, I never would have known she had a seizure at all. But with her snuggled up next to me I could feel her little body tremble and when I turned to see her face, I could see the twitch in her features. It seemed to go on forever, but I'm sure it was just a minute or two. I carried her downstairs where I could turn on some lights and check on her. She snuggled in my arms and smiled, a little lopsided smile. She stayed semi-responsive and maintained her breathing the entire time. And now she is happy and laughing, jumping with support from the couch while the Clubhouse crew sings the "Hot Dog" song.

I know she will be fine today, but now the questions come. What is going on? Is she having seizures that I don't know about? If she recovers so quickly could this be going on often? How do I let her out of my sight? How do I let her sleep at night without being right there?

I guess its time for a trip to the neurologist. I'm dreading it. We have had good neurologists and bad ones, and I haven't visited an EEG lab in quite a while. The head full of little probes, the erratic lines scratching hills and valleys on the monitor, all so you can know what "somewhat, may, possibly, but it is hard to tell, kids are resilient and they have room for growth and your daughter has been through so much already, neurology isn't an exact science, but it seems that maybe, judging by various tests," might be going on in a mind we don't completely, fully understand yet.

Then comes the phenobarb, I'll ask for keppra instead. There will be tears from both Maisy and I (hopefully I can keep mine in check until the car.) We might hear extra initials, besides the EEG, like MRI and CT. We'll possibly have an overnight stay for observation, where I will try to keep everything "as normal as possible" while I try to get a five-year-old wearing a hairnet of probes to sleep in a strange white room with light coming from monitors and computers instead of windows. I hope they won't try to put her in a crib, she'll hate that.

Well, soon the tell-tell post seizure lethargy will kick in and I can lay down next to Maisy and get some sleep. Then the ramblings will go from my computer to my dreams. Ah, the sweet dreams of worry.