Twitch, Gurgle, Snap

It's been nearly a good long time; two months? three? nearly half a year? You always seem to expect it coming 'round every month, and you don't fear the stains or the smells swinging moods as much as you fear the seizures.

The purr-snoring in the bed next to mine is a relief. Breathe easy; she's resting. We're sorry for the million memory cells done in by the shudders, but we don't have time to mourn and bury our dead when we have neurons to regenerate and brain building blocks to restack in proper psychiatric order.

No nerosurgeons responsible. Just a daughter who caught her mother by an ankle and managed to pull her back with "I'm here, I'm here Ma."

Down the RDA barbituate and lay her down, it calms the hysterics in her hemispheres. "Would you want to lie down? Okay. Nice and Slowly." land her on the pillow at 0.05mm per second, smooth her forehead, tuck her in, take her hand and stay quiet.

Soon, you begin to refocus in your self-adapted night-care-vision, scanning in the dark, checking breathing, heart rate, REM, nervous system response, reading results from the scanner, that strange machine thudding in your chest and crumbling minute by minute.

Strange, how you forget the half-eaten breakfast you made and the pouting with no coming-home present from you and the remote control wars and the non-responses when you see a little girl who missed the most important Communion Day of her life because her body screamed in twitches and gurgles and snaps.

My mother had an epileptic attack tonight.
That's why I'm up this late, watching over her.