It only stands to reason that Grace had another seizures today, after I was stupid enough to hope that the next six months would be easier.
I should have seen it coming. When she woke up from her nap on saturday, the left side of her face was not moving at all, even when I asked her to smile. I can't remember the last time it looked that weak. It made me nervous, but I pushed it to the back of my brain. She was SO perfect otherwise.
Then she woke up at 3:45 am today, crying softly, but not screaming. She seemed to doze a little bit til about 4:30ish, and then she was up. It is not TOTALLY crazy for her to still wake up occasionally at 4:30, but it's definitely not typical. And 3:45 is out of the question, even for her. But when I came downstairs at 6:30 (Stephen was with her. I didn't, like, leave her to her own devices or anything), she was acting totally normal. All morning long, completely herself. She kept telling me how excited she was to go to school, and how much she loves it. We got dressed and headed out. She chattered away all the way there. About two minutes away from the Y, she gasped loudly twice, and I spun onto a side street because it was obvious what was happening. Three minutes later, it was over and we were on the way to my parents' house (they live closer) and I was on the phone leaving a message with the neurologist.
I never did hear back from her. She's fired. It's not even interesting enough to get into here, but I am a reasonable person, I don't require an immediate call back and it doesn't have to be from the doctor. It does, however, have to be the same day. And you don't get two chances with me on shit like that.
Gracie slept for two hours (not unusual for anyone after a seizure), and when she woke up, asked for lunch and snarfed an entire individual pizza. She ran around and played with the toys and went in the backyard and ate all of Pop-Pop's raspberries, never missing a beat. We got back in the car to go home, and she was asking if we were going to take Sammy for a walk when we got home, or if we could play outside. Then she asked me, in a small quiet voice, "Mommy? Why I can't go to school today?"
Fuck you, seizures. Fuck you.