Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Stormy weather...why didn't Al Roker mention this???

There's a neurological term called storming.  I'm not a doctor.  I used to play one on tv opposite Dr. Drake Ramoray (just kidding).  I'm not a nurse.  Anyway, I know it has to do with your heart rate rising like crazy and sweating a lot and I'm sure many other things.  I probably should have called my neuro ICU nurse friend for a hot second before I started writing....I digress.

About a year after Olivia died, I was diagnosed with PTSD .  Most people think of it associated with military people/veterans or survivors of natural disasters.  I was told I had survived kind of the same things watching Olivia's massive seizures for so many years, coding, resuscitation, resuscitating her myself once and then her dying in my arms.  I had vivid, horrid nightmares, which turned out to be flashbacks.  I rarely slept.  I developed a heightened startle reflex.  I cried all the time.  Sad didn't even begin to describe it.

It was very much like storm in my brain when I tried to visualize it.  Picture the streaky lighting flashing across the sky, bolt after bolt.  Clouds of varying shades of pale to silver to gray to charcoal and they are monstrous.  Some of them may seem to be reaching down for the ground around you.  The wind is blowing as if you're Dorothy and your house is about to be transported to Oz...this is how it felt and feels in my brain sometimes.

It has been like that many times the past few weeks.  I was not expecting it.  It has taken me by surprise kind of like the honey badger snatches a cobra.   I wonder if it is the fact that I experienced happiness this past year and my guard was let down?

Regardless of the reasons, it happened.  I've been a woman on the edge for weeks.  Add in the God awful steroids coursing through my system courtesy of my damn asthma and I'm sure there are some who'd call me a raging bitch.

I was able to get Olivia's birthday flowers placed.  That took away some of the anxiety.  I swear, one of the afternoons or sleepless nights, I'm going to tell her story.  I just have to be able to keep steady fingers to type.  


  1. Personally, I feel relieved when I post something that I hold hostage inside myself. I feel each time I do that I am taking another step up on the invisible growth and becoming ladder--accepting who I am and feel proud that someone KNOWS- whether they know me in person or just as a blogger it feels the same. Well, I actually hide who I am from MOST everyone I know. For me, I'm unorthodox- very- and "normal" people tend to look at me funny....

    The point is, I can tell by post that Olivia's death is something you hold hostage inside you as well as you are held hostage by having lost her.

    I think you are doing a great thing by sharing you. Sharing the you that is a prisoner, sharing what prisons you and sharing will lead to your destination.

    Thank you for sharing. I love reading you!

  2. I dealt with the same thing for years with no explanation. I was diagnosed with PTSD in 2009. Suddenly things make a bit more sense. I had thought it was a military disorder only. There had been times I said, I feel like they describe. I left it at that.
    Keep writing. It took me years to tell my story. You've endured so much and writing helps. For me at least.


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