If you didn’t read about the last thing I can remember before this, go back and read Part 4.
I was laying on my back on the floor. There were people in the room; other volunteers. Jennifer was on one side of my head, with my arm in her arms. One of our dear friends was cradling my head in her lap. She was kissing me on the forehead and chanting in a shushing tone something along the lines of, “it’s going to be okay,” or “please be okay,” or “you’re going to be okay,” or maybe simply, “you’re okay.” I haven’t yet had the opportunity to ask her about this, and it’s obviously spotty for me at this point. She’s been in nursing school for a while. Between her and Jennifer, I was already in good hands.
When you have a seizure, your brain has a hard reboot. There is no consciousness in the event. Neurons fire at random. I understand that mine was quite a bit more violent than what I’ve witnessed in the past. They used to call this a “grand mal seizure,” but now it’s called a “tonic clonic seizure.” As it turns out, I just discovered a great new cocktail: rocks glass, ice cubes, pour in bitters and tonic water, SHAKE VIOLENTLY and bite your tongue!
After Jenni and our friend coaxing me into consciousness, the next thing I remember are the EMTs. Disclaimer: this is where memory gets really scrambled, so although I won’t claim anyone had tentacles, I’m probably not describing people or events accurately. A man and a woman whom I did not recognize were standing over me, big smiles and anime eyes.
“Who are these guys?” I asked. That floor felt so comfortable. It was a good nap, apparently. Everything was kind of numb like I’d just had a really deep sleep. I recognized my friends, but not these two strangers. The man looked latino and had a goatee. I can’t describe the woman with him, but they were both sweet.
“We’re here to take you to the Emergency Room,” big smiles.
I slowly shook my head, “Why would you do that?
Still big smiles, “because you just had a seizure.”
“No,” I protested, “I didn’t have any seizure.” After the fact, Jennifer has said that I had an attitude like “nah, you’ve got the wrong guy.” LOL!
“Yeah, you did,” said Jennifer.
“Can you try to sit up…”
So, I popped up off the floor and crossed my legs, ‘Indian-style.’
“…slowly? Okay, then….”
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Evyl. Evyl Robot.”
“Do you know what year it is?”
“Um… Ummmm…. Wait, I’ve got this.”
I still didn’t want to go to the ER, and said so.
“Can you tell me who the president is?”
The second-mentioned founding RGS member looked at me, concern in his eyes, “I really think you should go to the hospital.”
I looked to Jennifer who agreed. “Do I have to ride in the ambulance?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” she said, “I’M not driving you.”
They coached me to climb onto the stretcher to whisk me away for medical treatment. *growl.*
On Monday, come back to read about the ambulance ride in Part 6.