Killing Creativity - Epilepsy at work

My writing has missed the bus. Words, like the end of a rainbow are impossible to find.

I chase red orange yellow and green but they blur into blue indigo and violet.  A sentence is the undiscovered pot of gold.

Keyboard tapping causes nausea then cotton wool fireworks explode in my head before salty rain streaks down my face – another seizure.

I call out to Mr H,

What’s the word for a group of sentences?

Paragraph

I slap my forehead.

I write to keep my grey matter alight, but at the moment the brightness has turned to mist where words get lost or alter their shape as they emerge. Cups are cakes, shoes become slippers, knives are kettles and sentences are a jigsaw with missing pieces.  A thought in the kitchen slips away before I reach the next room.

As I walk in search of a cluster of words, sentences part to let me through. I hunt for a paragraph until the sun disappears. I sleep under a window and dream of floating pages trapped in my minds web.

Morning and evening I gulp down the extra pink and white mind blurring thieves.  Hopefully once the changeover is complete the rainbow's end will be mine.

A Caribbean Rainbow I captured in 2012

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Creative-Writing, Epilepsy

Eating Breakfast - Small Things Matter

The small breakfast bowl I use has green edges, when it hides I search for it, I dismiss the the other twenty bowls. This bowl has grapes and lemons on the bottom and once belonged to my little Nan, now it is mine. Each morning I smile as I pour my bran flakes into it. The chips on the edges are part of its history, I fear it's demise. 

In hospital the nurses encouraged me to use a china mug bought for me by a friend. It was a garden of flowers with a pale blue rim, my favourite colour. My lips curled up at the corners as my mug trundled towards me on the tea trolley, sipping my drink and dunking my biscuits felt like I was having tea at the Ritz. 

Before BT I took so much for granted: 
Carrying a full mug of coffee,without a stain on the carpet

Each foot leaving the ground and moving forward without a thought. 
Hovering on one leg as I pulled trousers on,
Twisting around in one move,
Standing and chatting
Eating without taking notice of the pattern on the plate....

Now I write nestled in my little Nans' rocking chair, an ergonomic disaster, but the love embroidered into the upholstery inspires me. I gaze out at the golden bamboo in the garden, the wind rustling the leaves, the Buddha waves at me as I look for the panda. 

The richness of small things in life....

When the Air Hits Your Brain

Encouraged by Kate Dunn my contribution to the Blogging world commences. 

Without our brains we are nothing; with our brains we are everything.  

Since  the unexpected discovery and removal of a right sided meningioma brain tumour in November 2008 Dawn with a Difference has emerged. 

Tripping, nausea and ongoing severe headaches were not sufficient to direct me to the doctors surgery even though I was a nurse. It took a Grand Mal (now called Tonic Clonic) seizure in the middle of the night to raise the alarm.  A CT scan revealed all; surgery chased its tail. Always doing things with style; rare complications scattered my recovery; paralysis, infection, further surgery and epilepsy.

During one of my Neurosurgery outpatient visits I showered the registrar with questions: why do I feel waves going through my head, why is my head so heavy when I lean forward, why am I  so tired, why can't I concentrate for long.... his lucid (well documented) reply was: "When the Air Hits Your Brain You Are Rarely the Same". 

• Gap: A unified space or interval - Over many years the tumour moulded its home in my head

                                                         Right                     Left

Tumour on the Right 

The dark mass at the top of my head is the tumour

• Gap: A break in continuity; A breach - Removal of part of my skull left me with a temporary Sunroof; or technically No Bone Flap after an incredibly rare infection.

The gap in my skull at the top was my 'Sunroof'

Sunroof closed with Titanium Plate August 2009

• The Biggest Gap: The divergence in development - No two brain tumour journeys are the same. A different path in life seems inevitable. To Cope or Not to Cope is the fundamental question. 

Mind the Gap A-Z  

will sprinkle your brains with my journey 

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Brain-Tumour, Meningioma