Juliet Cook's Blog, page 157
September 16, 2011
anti black & white; infused with a strangely disproportionate spectrum of different pink & purple hues
My expectations are not the same as they used to be; they have partially abated.
I don't mean that negatively. I don't feel diminished.
I know that my mind is not perfectly fine for/with everyone/everything.
Certain people turn me on; certain people turn me off.
Different kinds of passion and creativity turn me on a lot.
But more often than not, I don't really know what to expect of people, interactions, and experiences. I often try things, not knowing what might happen next. I don't dive in fully, yet I dive pretty deep.
Sometimes I suddenly sink, sometimes I suddenly rise up, sometimes I alternate between the two – feeling confused, uncertain about what is going on and what might happen next – feeling unsure what SHOULD happen next. Who knows? I don't.
What should I expect? I don't know. I don't have solid expectations. I have floating expectations.
Water color and texture and pressures change. Sometimes I feel like I might be sinking, but I'm not.
Sometimes I feel disappointed, but still unsure.
Sometimes I feel happily delighted, but still unsure.
Almost always unsure about most things, but one thing I do feel pretty sure about.
Almost everything seems prone to solubility.
I don't mean that negatively. I don't feel diminished.
I know that my mind is not perfectly fine for/with everyone/everything.
Certain people turn me on; certain people turn me off.
Different kinds of passion and creativity turn me on a lot.
But more often than not, I don't really know what to expect of people, interactions, and experiences. I often try things, not knowing what might happen next. I don't dive in fully, yet I dive pretty deep.
Sometimes I suddenly sink, sometimes I suddenly rise up, sometimes I alternate between the two – feeling confused, uncertain about what is going on and what might happen next – feeling unsure what SHOULD happen next. Who knows? I don't.
What should I expect? I don't know. I don't have solid expectations. I have floating expectations.
Water color and texture and pressures change. Sometimes I feel like I might be sinking, but I'm not.
Sometimes I feel disappointed, but still unsure.
Sometimes I feel happily delighted, but still unsure.
Almost always unsure about most things, but one thing I do feel pretty sure about.
Almost everything seems prone to solubility.
Profiles in Poetics: Juliet Cook
Aesthetic Diversity of Women Writers in the 21st Century
(interview questions answered by me and asked by Jillian Mukavetz, which originally appeared upon the Women's Quarterly Conversation online site)
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/8400339/profiles_in_poetics_juliet_cook.html?cat=72
(interview questions answered by me and asked by Jillian Mukavetz, which originally appeared upon the Women's Quarterly Conversation online site)
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/8400339/profiles_in_poetics_juliet_cook.html?cat=72
September 14, 2011
September 11, 2011
more blood pudding letters
When ladling this blood pudding into serving containers, consider hiding a peeled grape eyeball on the bottom. Slurptastic!
http://www.etsy.com/listing/80739335/new-letters-from-room-27-of-the-grand
http://www.etsy.com/listing/80739335/new-letters-from-room-27-of-the-grand
giving/receiving
I am tired of the type of people who seem to think about themselves too much in terms of money and items and care; who seem to think about themselves more than others, no matter what.
Yes we should think about ourselves in terms of what is important to us and what we are passionate about; in terms of what we want to do with our lives and goals and what we should focus on; but NOT in terms of what we should receive from others.
I don't like the type of people who seem to think, "Other people should give me this. Other people should give me that. People should do this for me. People should do that for me. People should feel sorry for me. Woe is me. Woe is me." Especially when there is no real ongoing woe.
I truly hope I never come across as a person like that. If I ever have, I am truly sorry.
I think people should focus on helping themselves instead of expecting others to help them and frequently complaining about how others don't help them enough.
I sometimes like helping and I really like giving, but only to the type who pay attention to my offerings, appreciate my offerings, and give back - instead of not really noticing, not really caring, and not really appreciating until they get so much more and then not even noticing that. Just sort of automatically expecting others to give to them, but hardly ever giving much in return.
If you get depressed and expect others to give and you will take take take take take take but don't truly appreciate it, then get away from me please. If you're a woe is me, take take take, complain complain complain, take complain take complain and feel sorry for yourself as though you're some sort of woeful martyr; if you take and don't appreciate and take and don't appreciate and instead complain as though you're not getting enough, get away from me right now.
I've had enough men in my life who take more than they give and don't appreciate what I give (or what anyone else gives, unless it's a substantial amount of money, given repeatedly). I've had more than enough of that.
I strongly desire to give to other givers. I do not wish to give to thoughtless takers.
I wish to give myself to those who give themselves to me. Then I would give and give and give forever.
Yes we should think about ourselves in terms of what is important to us and what we are passionate about; in terms of what we want to do with our lives and goals and what we should focus on; but NOT in terms of what we should receive from others.
I don't like the type of people who seem to think, "Other people should give me this. Other people should give me that. People should do this for me. People should do that for me. People should feel sorry for me. Woe is me. Woe is me." Especially when there is no real ongoing woe.
I truly hope I never come across as a person like that. If I ever have, I am truly sorry.
I think people should focus on helping themselves instead of expecting others to help them and frequently complaining about how others don't help them enough.
I sometimes like helping and I really like giving, but only to the type who pay attention to my offerings, appreciate my offerings, and give back - instead of not really noticing, not really caring, and not really appreciating until they get so much more and then not even noticing that. Just sort of automatically expecting others to give to them, but hardly ever giving much in return.
If you get depressed and expect others to give and you will take take take take take take but don't truly appreciate it, then get away from me please. If you're a woe is me, take take take, complain complain complain, take complain take complain and feel sorry for yourself as though you're some sort of woeful martyr; if you take and don't appreciate and take and don't appreciate and instead complain as though you're not getting enough, get away from me right now.
I've had enough men in my life who take more than they give and don't appreciate what I give (or what anyone else gives, unless it's a substantial amount of money, given repeatedly). I've had more than enough of that.
I strongly desire to give to other givers. I do not wish to give to thoughtless takers.
I wish to give myself to those who give themselves to me. Then I would give and give and give forever.
September 8, 2011
PMS or new pills or a fusion of the two?
On the icky/scary side -
Terrible, terrible PMS while in bed the night before last; lying there for a long time crying and feeling really sad.
Then all of the sudden I felt paralyzed.
I usually lie straight on my back in bed, but during my crying spell I had switched to lying on my side and lifted my legs up, almost as if in a hugging myself position. Maybe I had suddenly fallen asleep - but all of the sudden, I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't open my eyes, and felt paralyzed and scared (in part because I couldn't open my eyes and felt paralyzed in bed, after having my stroke – you can read a little more about that here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2807396/poststroke_survival_and_sad_little.html?cat=70).
It was almost as if I couldn't make myself awaken from a bad dream – but usually, I can easily wake myself up from dreams – and also there was no dream IMAGERY. I just felt strangely blinded, paralyzed and trapped.
I finally managed to make myself wake up and shifted my position and kept my eyes open for a while (despite feeling very tired) because I felt scared that what if I was on the brink of having another stroke or a seizer or something (here's my recent blog post about a very recent possible seizure I had, for which I was prescribed a special pill - http://doppelgangrene.blogspot.com/2011/08/seizure-horror-fest.html).
*
For the most part I am anti-pill, anti-psyche drug that is (unless someone really needs one for serious depression issues or the like; but I often think therapists and psychiatrists are too quick to prescribe pills and people are too quick to start taking them). Granted, the pill I was prescribed was not depression related; it was seizure related; BUT they are not even sure I had a seizure – and I definitely worry about pill's side effects, especially if they might change my personality, dampen my energy, reduce my sex drive or make me less caring and/or less passionate.
Due to my anti-pill tendencies, I have not been researching my new pill (because then if I read about any negative side effects, I think I might just stop taking it or at least feel rather depressed). Instead, my mom has been conducting some research for me; she's read both some positives and some negatives; but overall, not very much negative about this pill. Also, aside from seeming to have even more irregular sleep patterns than usual lately (and having a hard time falling asleep, no matter how extremely tired I feel), it has not seemed to change my personality at all, at least not at this point in time.
But when I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday morning (crying about how nobody likes me very much and I'm hardly reading & writing anymore & I'm incredibly, ridiculously slow at things and more and now this weird dream state), she said she had read comments from several people with PMS issues that this pill made their PMS even worse.
Hmmm.
So it might just be a fluke; it might not be - but I have felt awfully sad and upset and disappointed the last few days. I don't feel like the pill has led to any emotional/mental/physical changes until possibly now – until this even more extreme than usual PMS festival of awful sadness. These sad questioning feelings of 'What the heck am I DOING?'
***
On the yummy/good side -
One thing that very much lifted my spirits last night was when I got home from running some errands and then opened my front door to take Sockeye out for a walk and there was a bright violet vase brimming with a beautiful assortment of purple flowers awaiting me upon my front porch.
I had no idea who they were from until I looked at the little card affixed to the gorgeous arrangement and found out they were an unexpected gift from my delightful PoetJoe.
What a perfect day to receive such a beautiful offering from such a scrumptiously beautiful man.
I couldn't help but wonder if Joe might be psychic, because I had not talked to him in a few days, so he was not aware of my PMS issues, but the card accompanying the flowers said, "Wish I Was There. Feel Good".
Today I put on shorts that remind me of UPS driver shorts (and Joe) and COOKIES knee highs which remind me of my friend Margaret (who gave me a Sock Dreams gift card from which I bought these fun socks) and even though I still have PMS, it makes me feel much better to think about two delicious poet people who really like me and vice versa.
New sock and flower photos coming semi-soon.
*
P.S. Speaking of Margaret, her haunted treasure trove of poetry is available in the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/80739335/new-letters-from-room-27-of-the-grand
Plus a Halloween Darkly Delicious Combo Pack here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/81271959/halloween-darkly-delicious-combo-pack?ref=v1_other_1
Plus a variety of other odd Halloween-y goodies here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?section_id=10388961
Terrible, terrible PMS while in bed the night before last; lying there for a long time crying and feeling really sad.
Then all of the sudden I felt paralyzed.
I usually lie straight on my back in bed, but during my crying spell I had switched to lying on my side and lifted my legs up, almost as if in a hugging myself position. Maybe I had suddenly fallen asleep - but all of the sudden, I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't open my eyes, and felt paralyzed and scared (in part because I couldn't open my eyes and felt paralyzed in bed, after having my stroke – you can read a little more about that here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2807396/poststroke_survival_and_sad_little.html?cat=70).
It was almost as if I couldn't make myself awaken from a bad dream – but usually, I can easily wake myself up from dreams – and also there was no dream IMAGERY. I just felt strangely blinded, paralyzed and trapped.
I finally managed to make myself wake up and shifted my position and kept my eyes open for a while (despite feeling very tired) because I felt scared that what if I was on the brink of having another stroke or a seizer or something (here's my recent blog post about a very recent possible seizure I had, for which I was prescribed a special pill - http://doppelgangrene.blogspot.com/2011/08/seizure-horror-fest.html).
*
For the most part I am anti-pill, anti-psyche drug that is (unless someone really needs one for serious depression issues or the like; but I often think therapists and psychiatrists are too quick to prescribe pills and people are too quick to start taking them). Granted, the pill I was prescribed was not depression related; it was seizure related; BUT they are not even sure I had a seizure – and I definitely worry about pill's side effects, especially if they might change my personality, dampen my energy, reduce my sex drive or make me less caring and/or less passionate.
Due to my anti-pill tendencies, I have not been researching my new pill (because then if I read about any negative side effects, I think I might just stop taking it or at least feel rather depressed). Instead, my mom has been conducting some research for me; she's read both some positives and some negatives; but overall, not very much negative about this pill. Also, aside from seeming to have even more irregular sleep patterns than usual lately (and having a hard time falling asleep, no matter how extremely tired I feel), it has not seemed to change my personality at all, at least not at this point in time.
But when I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday morning (crying about how nobody likes me very much and I'm hardly reading & writing anymore & I'm incredibly, ridiculously slow at things and more and now this weird dream state), she said she had read comments from several people with PMS issues that this pill made their PMS even worse.
Hmmm.
So it might just be a fluke; it might not be - but I have felt awfully sad and upset and disappointed the last few days. I don't feel like the pill has led to any emotional/mental/physical changes until possibly now – until this even more extreme than usual PMS festival of awful sadness. These sad questioning feelings of 'What the heck am I DOING?'
***
On the yummy/good side -
One thing that very much lifted my spirits last night was when I got home from running some errands and then opened my front door to take Sockeye out for a walk and there was a bright violet vase brimming with a beautiful assortment of purple flowers awaiting me upon my front porch.
I had no idea who they were from until I looked at the little card affixed to the gorgeous arrangement and found out they were an unexpected gift from my delightful PoetJoe.
What a perfect day to receive such a beautiful offering from such a scrumptiously beautiful man.
I couldn't help but wonder if Joe might be psychic, because I had not talked to him in a few days, so he was not aware of my PMS issues, but the card accompanying the flowers said, "Wish I Was There. Feel Good".
Today I put on shorts that remind me of UPS driver shorts (and Joe) and COOKIES knee highs which remind me of my friend Margaret (who gave me a Sock Dreams gift card from which I bought these fun socks) and even though I still have PMS, it makes me feel much better to think about two delicious poet people who really like me and vice versa.
New sock and flower photos coming semi-soon.
*
P.S. Speaking of Margaret, her haunted treasure trove of poetry is available in the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/80739335/new-letters-from-room-27-of-the-grand
Plus a Halloween Darkly Delicious Combo Pack here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/81271959/halloween-darkly-delicious-combo-pack?ref=v1_other_1
Plus a variety of other odd Halloween-y goodies here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?section_id=10388961
August 31, 2011
13 Myna Birds invades the haunted hotel!
Featuring darkly delicious offerings by Margaret Bashaar, Kevin Ross, James Valvis, Jessy Randall, Daniel Shapiro, Sean Ulman, Suzie DeGrasse, Deidre Elizabeth, & M.P. Powers in a portal of haunted infestation and delight.
Here is a fusion/infusion of snippets from some of the pieces within:
"wormwood eating itself - eating its own heart - casting spells - a small, squirming - intestines like rosaries - shot through the left scapula - then through the heart - slashed deep enough to cut - from drop to drop - no longer spending my days inside triangles - collective delirium - catch on fire - teeth gleaming"
And here is a link to the site:
http://13myna.blogspot.com/
*
This particular Thirteen Myna Birds update is partially in honor of the new Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, "LETTERS FROM ROOM 27 OF THE GRAND MIDWAY HOTEL" by Margaret Bashaar; her featured poem is a teaser from that very chapbook, as is the darkly delicious photo art by Kevin Ross.
Partake of more details about that new chapbook and consider purchasing a copy from the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress
August 30, 2011
NEW Blood Pudding Press Poetry chapbook - LETTERS FROM ROOM 27 OF THE GRAND MIDWAY HOTEL!
Brimming with weird, creepy, messy ghostly infiltrations galore, Letters From Room 27 of the Grand Midway Hotel is the NEW Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, featuring 14 oddly haunted poems by Margaret Bashaar, inspired by an artsy haunted hotel!
The first small assortment of purchased chapbooks will be mailed out on Tuesday September 6 and will most likely be hand signed by Margaret Bashaar herself!
Also, the first ten sold copies will each include a small art card, hand designed by Blood Pudding Press editor Juliet Cook!
Each chapbook will brim with it's own lovely cover, its darkly delicious poetic innards, plus a few artsy photo snippets taken from within the haunted hotel by photographer Kevin Ross!
Take a look and consider purchasing a copy of this haunted treasure for yourself via the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here, pretty please, if you dare:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?ref=pr_shop_more
Any questions or special cover/innard color options, please feel free to ask.
The first small assortment of purchased chapbooks will be mailed out on Tuesday September 6 and will most likely be hand signed by Margaret Bashaar herself!Also, the first ten sold copies will each include a small art card, hand designed by Blood Pudding Press editor Juliet Cook!
Each chapbook will brim with it's own lovely cover, its darkly delicious poetic innards, plus a few artsy photo snippets taken from within the haunted hotel by photographer Kevin Ross!
Take a look and consider purchasing a copy of this haunted treasure for yourself via the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here, pretty please, if you dare:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?ref=pr_shop_more
Any questions or special cover/innard color options, please feel free to ask.Interested recipients might also like to partake of Margaret's Bashaar's own blog post about her new chapbook here:
http://pluckedfromogygia.blogspot.com/2011/08/letters-from-room-27-of-grandmidway.html
Boo! Hiss! Explode into poetry!
better than dizzy
I am feeling much better than early yesterday (and the days preceding), which I wrote about a bit in the blog entry below.
For several days, I was experiencing some oddly uncomfy side effects from my EKG (most likely), but was feeling worried that my seizure pills were already creating ickfest side effects; blah.
I also experienced a small, unlikable phase of being reminded of last time I was in the hospital, which among other things, that experience seeemed to result in me losing love - thus yesterday morning I had an awful little bad spell of worrying that I might lose other important things this time.
What if I lose new friends, who don't wish to deal with some creepy old seizure lady?
What if I lose my poetic passion?
What if I lose all my natural hair color, which freakishly turns white from another stress infusion?
I feel better today though and don't think I am going to lose anything else.
Hopefully, the latest odd health condition was just a strange, small fluke.
Also, I got the latest darkly delicious Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook added to my etsy shop yesterday - and will be writing a little blog entry about that haunted delight semi-soon.
Yay!
For several days, I was experiencing some oddly uncomfy side effects from my EKG (most likely), but was feeling worried that my seizure pills were already creating ickfest side effects; blah.
I also experienced a small, unlikable phase of being reminded of last time I was in the hospital, which among other things, that experience seeemed to result in me losing love - thus yesterday morning I had an awful little bad spell of worrying that I might lose other important things this time.
What if I lose new friends, who don't wish to deal with some creepy old seizure lady?
What if I lose my poetic passion?
What if I lose all my natural hair color, which freakishly turns white from another stress infusion?
I feel better today though and don't think I am going to lose anything else.
Hopefully, the latest odd health condition was just a strange, small fluke.
Also, I got the latest darkly delicious Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook added to my etsy shop yesterday - and will be writing a little blog entry about that haunted delight semi-soon.
Yay!
August 29, 2011
Seizure Horror Fest
At the moment, I don't really feel like writing about this or doing much of anything, but if I don't write/do things, then what is the point of existing, so I guess I will give this a try.
This past week was an unexpectedly unfortunate, bad week for me. It was supposed to be a uniquely creative week, involving my first time being a part of the extra-special Kerouac Fest at the Grand Midway Hotel in Windber PA. Part of the festivities were going to involve me & Margaret Bashaar introducing Margaret's new poetry chapbook, 'LETTERS FROM ROOM 27 OF THE GRAND MIDWAY HOTEL' , which was inspired by the haunted hotel and published by my Blood Pudding Press. Unfortunately, I did not get to go and participate in that.
The day before I was to leave, I was working on packing my attire and took a quick break online. A few minutes after 3:00, I wrote a comment to Margaret on facebook. The next thing I knew, I woke up, was lying on my bed, and was gazing upon my new manikin with confusion, not remembering where it had come from. Even my older headless manikin seemed confusing. Even all the clothes lying on my bedroom floor and the passage of time seemed confusing.
As soon as I got up, it got worse. I felt nauseated, dizzy, faint, and as though I was about to pass out. I immediately become afraid that I was dying. About a year and a half ago, I had suffered from a sudden, unexpected carotid artery dissection which led to a couple aneurysms which led to a stroke. Was I having another stroke? Was I about to die? I felt like I was going to faint and collapse. I called my mom. As I glanced at my cell phone, I saw that it wasn't quite 4:00 yet, so it's not as though a lot of time had elapsed since I was online, but what had happened since then?
My sister and parents arrived to my house shortly. I was still feeling disoriented and dizzy – and we soon found out that I must have fallen down hard, because the back of my head was terribly bruised and painful. I later found out that the bottom of each elbow was also bruised. Within about an hour, most of my memory came back to me, except for the memory of when/how/why/where I had fallen down. I figured I had suddenly passed out but why? That is not something that often happens to me. I had been feeling fine that day, eating healthy, drinking plenty of water. I wasn't drinking any alcohol or doing any drugs. What the heck had happened?
We decided I should go to the emergency room just to make sure I did not have a concussion. I wasn't lucking forward to doing that; I was worried it would take several hours, when I still had packing and other last minute preparation for my trip, for which I was scheduled to depart via Megabus the next morning. Unfortunately, I did not end up departing. Even though my CAT scan did not indicate a concussion, they suggested the fact I couldn't remember what had happened made them feel as if I could have had a seizure, so they wanted to send me to the hospital for more testing.
Next thing I know I'm inside an ambulance, talking with the man behind me. I wasn't in a terrible mood because I was thinking that my hospital testing would last a few hours, then I'd be home and even though I would be rushed, I'd still have time to prepare for leaving the next morning. Well instead, I ended up being in the hospital from Tuesday night until Friday night, receiving multiple tests and lying around on a hospital bed with an IV inserted and a heart monitor plugged in. Instead of being part of an artsy extravaganza with poet and photo artist friends, I was a hospitalized, disabled, out of control old lady.
And then even though none of my testing indicated that I'd had a seizure, they still decided that I should take seizure pills, twice daily, just to be on the safe side. Well I have always been an anti-pill person; the last thing I want is some pill changing my personality, my passion, my sex drive, my interest in life, and/or making me fat. Blah blah BLAH.
I've not had a seizure before in my life; I don't have epilepsy. BUT sometimes people who suffer from a stroke then start having seizures, due to how the stroke affected their brain. BUT my stroke happened more than a year and a half ago, so why would seizures suddenly start overtaking me after all that time? After a rather crappy (sad, depressing, difficult) year or so, things were finally becoming so much happier and better - and now I'm going to start having seizures? I'm hoping it was just a weird fluke.
But even if it was a fluke, the pill I've been given is a seizure related pill – and research indicates that some people have bad side effects from it. I'm really quite nervous about it. Again, I don't want a pill to change my personality, my energy, my poeticism, or anything like that.
I don't want it to zone me out or make me unemotional. I don't want it to make me uninterested in poetry, uninterested in art, uninterested in knee highs, uninterested in almost everything.
I don't want a pill to change me. I don't want to be lacking in passion.
I've started taking the darn pill but have also started taking notes and will share some of those soon.
I could go into more detail and perhaps I shall later, but being in the hospital for four days and then feeling out of it and depressed my first few days home have put me behind, so for now I need to get to work on publishing and promoting the chapbook that I was supposed to have available live at a haunted hotel while hanging out with its scrumptious poet lady, but alas. Instead I'm all worried about seizure medicine. Blech.
This past week was an unexpectedly unfortunate, bad week for me. It was supposed to be a uniquely creative week, involving my first time being a part of the extra-special Kerouac Fest at the Grand Midway Hotel in Windber PA. Part of the festivities were going to involve me & Margaret Bashaar introducing Margaret's new poetry chapbook, 'LETTERS FROM ROOM 27 OF THE GRAND MIDWAY HOTEL' , which was inspired by the haunted hotel and published by my Blood Pudding Press. Unfortunately, I did not get to go and participate in that.
The day before I was to leave, I was working on packing my attire and took a quick break online. A few minutes after 3:00, I wrote a comment to Margaret on facebook. The next thing I knew, I woke up, was lying on my bed, and was gazing upon my new manikin with confusion, not remembering where it had come from. Even my older headless manikin seemed confusing. Even all the clothes lying on my bedroom floor and the passage of time seemed confusing.
As soon as I got up, it got worse. I felt nauseated, dizzy, faint, and as though I was about to pass out. I immediately become afraid that I was dying. About a year and a half ago, I had suffered from a sudden, unexpected carotid artery dissection which led to a couple aneurysms which led to a stroke. Was I having another stroke? Was I about to die? I felt like I was going to faint and collapse. I called my mom. As I glanced at my cell phone, I saw that it wasn't quite 4:00 yet, so it's not as though a lot of time had elapsed since I was online, but what had happened since then?
My sister and parents arrived to my house shortly. I was still feeling disoriented and dizzy – and we soon found out that I must have fallen down hard, because the back of my head was terribly bruised and painful. I later found out that the bottom of each elbow was also bruised. Within about an hour, most of my memory came back to me, except for the memory of when/how/why/where I had fallen down. I figured I had suddenly passed out but why? That is not something that often happens to me. I had been feeling fine that day, eating healthy, drinking plenty of water. I wasn't drinking any alcohol or doing any drugs. What the heck had happened?
We decided I should go to the emergency room just to make sure I did not have a concussion. I wasn't lucking forward to doing that; I was worried it would take several hours, when I still had packing and other last minute preparation for my trip, for which I was scheduled to depart via Megabus the next morning. Unfortunately, I did not end up departing. Even though my CAT scan did not indicate a concussion, they suggested the fact I couldn't remember what had happened made them feel as if I could have had a seizure, so they wanted to send me to the hospital for more testing.
Next thing I know I'm inside an ambulance, talking with the man behind me. I wasn't in a terrible mood because I was thinking that my hospital testing would last a few hours, then I'd be home and even though I would be rushed, I'd still have time to prepare for leaving the next morning. Well instead, I ended up being in the hospital from Tuesday night until Friday night, receiving multiple tests and lying around on a hospital bed with an IV inserted and a heart monitor plugged in. Instead of being part of an artsy extravaganza with poet and photo artist friends, I was a hospitalized, disabled, out of control old lady.
And then even though none of my testing indicated that I'd had a seizure, they still decided that I should take seizure pills, twice daily, just to be on the safe side. Well I have always been an anti-pill person; the last thing I want is some pill changing my personality, my passion, my sex drive, my interest in life, and/or making me fat. Blah blah BLAH.
I've not had a seizure before in my life; I don't have epilepsy. BUT sometimes people who suffer from a stroke then start having seizures, due to how the stroke affected their brain. BUT my stroke happened more than a year and a half ago, so why would seizures suddenly start overtaking me after all that time? After a rather crappy (sad, depressing, difficult) year or so, things were finally becoming so much happier and better - and now I'm going to start having seizures? I'm hoping it was just a weird fluke.
But even if it was a fluke, the pill I've been given is a seizure related pill – and research indicates that some people have bad side effects from it. I'm really quite nervous about it. Again, I don't want a pill to change my personality, my energy, my poeticism, or anything like that.
I don't want it to zone me out or make me unemotional. I don't want it to make me uninterested in poetry, uninterested in art, uninterested in knee highs, uninterested in almost everything.
I don't want a pill to change me. I don't want to be lacking in passion.
I've started taking the darn pill but have also started taking notes and will share some of those soon.
I could go into more detail and perhaps I shall later, but being in the hospital for four days and then feeling out of it and depressed my first few days home have put me behind, so for now I need to get to work on publishing and promoting the chapbook that I was supposed to have available live at a haunted hotel while hanging out with its scrumptious poet lady, but alas. Instead I'm all worried about seizure medicine. Blech.
