Over the past 3 years, I've been told, "You need to learn how to relax," more times than I care to count. While it's true that I've worked myself to the brink of insanity on a number of occasions, I've at least found the focus necessary to provide my mind a mini-vacation from around 5 pm on Friday nights through most of Sundays. While I believe relaxation and some semblance of balance in one's life are critically important, I simply now see the weekends as the means to at least somewhat accomplish that. While a lengthier vacation (Hawaii, anyone?) sounds lovely, I just don't have the funds necessary to provide myself with such a thing. Also, while some people may deplore work and crave relaxation every evening following a long workday, I have a hard time seeing things from such a vantage point anymore.
Just before I started college, in August of '99, I suffered my first grand mal seizure. Upon regaining consciousness and being carried onto a stretcher and rushed to a hospital, it was discovered I had a brain tumor. It couldn't be verified whether the tumor was benign or malignant, so I started my college life not knowing if I'd be around much longer. While I was placed on anti-seizure medication and didn't suffer any full-blown seizures for quite some time, I was still apt to getting auras, and this always made me fearful that another grand mal seizure could occur at some point. Not knowing how much longer I was going to live, while I paid fairly close attention to my studies, I decided to party a great deal. It was a way for me to deny the reality of having a brain tumor, attempt to live in the moment, and mask any pain and fear I may have been feeling. This may not have been the wisest move I've ever made, yet even in hindsight, I can understand why I did it. I also spent a great deal of time listening to and attempting to help others with their problems. Perhaps this was partially to deny myself of my own issues, however, at the time anyway, I truly felt an urge to reach out and make a positive difference in others' lives. It made me feel better about myself and made me sleep a little easier, as I thought, "Even if I don't wake up tomorrow, I would have made a difference in someone's life." As I started getting MRI results indicating that the tumor wasn't growing much, if at all, I slowly started focusing a bit more on my own needs, on my studies, and decreased the partying some. I then suffered a seizure in my Spanish class on February 20th of 2003, a couple more before and during a World Civilizations test, and immediately scheduled an appointment with my neurologist. He placed me on a new medication (in addition to the old one) and gave me the option of having the tumor removed surgically. Without a great deal of hesitation, I said I'd prefer the surgery over a lifetime dependency on medications. After spending that next summer in and out of the hospital, having tests done, I underwent surgery on August 6th of that year, and as I awoke, I felt a new wave of life. This was short-lived, however, due to some other unpredictable events which surfaced in my life. In any case, though, I'll never forget my immediate reaction upon awaking from that surgery - seeing the light before me and hoping a better life was ahead of me.
Fast-forward six years and I was struck with another health setback. I awoke in May of 2009 feeling like I had never felt before: Overly drugged in the head, fatigued, tingly in my arms and legs, numb in and around my mouth, etc. Unfortunately, the symptoms only grew in intensity, and from that point until late December of 2010, I was a pinball between medical centers in Columbus and Cleveland. While the doctors seemed to receive some odd results via multiple tests, they could never fully conclude on the matter. Theories went from MS to AVM to the tumor not being fully removed during my surgery to small-fiber sensory neuropathy, and beyond. One doctor said if I didn't undergo spinal surgery to remove the AVM, I could lose my legs. Others told me the condition could be permanent and I'd need to learn how to live with it. The condition all but paralyzed me for close to two years. I couldn't walk much, let alone exercise. I couldn't drive. I couldn't think creatively or write much. I couldn't go out much, unless someone drove me, and chances were I wouldn't be in the most social of moods due to how the condition depressed me. I couldn't date and had a hard time making new friends due to all of my limitations. For almost two years, I felt like I was in a near-vegetative state, and every night, I wished to be given another chance in life. Almost miraculously enough, I saw a seizure specialist, who switched my meds, and a few days later, I awoke and felt like something was different. I didn't know what it was exactly, and didn't want to get my hopes up, but at that point in time, anything different was good. Over the next couple of weeks or so, the symptoms slowly decreased in intensity and by March of 2011, I started feeling like my old self again, but only this time, with an increased zest for life. Once I started feeling close to 100% again, I couldn't help but want to do all the things which had been stripped from me for the previous two years. I immediately started working out a great deal and wound up losing 45 lbs. overall. I started writing again and published three books in that year alone. I started going out again, had some semblance of a social life, and even gave the dating world a gander. I traveled back home (Nebraska) to rejoice the time with friends and family. To be handed all the little things which I had previously taken for granted and then lost for a couple of years - the feeling really was indescribable. As thankful as I was to start living life again, though, it felt as if I had two years stripped away from me and I had to make up for lost time. Due to that, I've been pushing myself in overdrive ever since.
The thing is, even though I haven't suffered a full-blown seizure since my brain surgery in August of '03, I still get auras from time to time, and even though I haven't felt the awful symptoms of that two-year illness quite as extreme in intensity, they have crept into my system here and there for 12-24 hours at a time. Due to my history of health problems, of having two years taken from me, and at times feeling as if my health will suffer another big blow, I can't help but not want to waste a moment. The truth of the matter is I don't know if and when I'll suffer another grand mal seizure, develop another brain tumor, feel the onset of another strange virus, feel the AVM (arteriovenous malformation) being active, etc. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be mentally and physically capable of living and enjoying life. Some people look at me like I'm crazy for simultaneously writing four books. However, they could be the final four books I ever write, and I don't want to waste a moment. Some people seem to think I'm a tad strange for finding my relaxation in walking and exercising, but each and every day, those could be my final steps, and I don't want to waste a moment. Every time I finally decide to relax my mind by going out, I try to always make certain that I share some kind words, smiles, and laughs with the people I care about, because they could be my final laughs and smiles, and I don't want to waste a moment. Battling severe health problems since birth gives a person a different perspective on life, especially if he or she has been able to fight through these issues time after time. While many may obsess about their futures, people like me simply try to love and cherish every second, because we don't know when our time will be up, and we don't want to waste a moment.
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