The second time
I counted every one of those days.
I had just started to believe it was a one-time thing. I was sleeping again. I was making lists again. Then it happened a second time.
I'm writing this about two weeks out from that second seizure.
My hands are steady today. Some days they aren't.
Two seizures change the questions you ask. It's no longer “when will I feel normal again,” it's “what does a life look like that can hold this.” I'm still learning the answer.
What I know is that I can't go back to the desk. Not because I don't want to, but because my body has told me, twice, as clearly as it knows how.
Amanda