Six months ago, things got crazy in my life. They’ve gotten better. Actually, they’ve gotten a lot better.

I got away from the stressful job I was in, which made life a lot easier. I took some time off and remembered what it was like to hang around an empty house. I got a new job. We took some nice family vacations. I am now legally permitted to drive without restrictions.

Looking back at last spring with half a year’s distance, I find myself feeling things a little differently. The strongest emotion I feel now is not anger or depression, but gratitude, with a small side of regret.

I’m incredibly grateful for the help and support we got, both on the night of the seizure and over the next several months. My sister and my friend dropped everything they were doing and came to the hospital to sit with Kiddo. My sister took him home and stayed overnight when it turned out I’d be staying at Harborview overnight. I don’t know whether Kiddo will remember that night, but he’s become very attached to the stuffed dog that he got from the hospital social worker, so one day he might want to know the story of how he got it.

But I do regret the fear and worry that this event introduced (or re-introduced) to my family’s and friends’ lives. I know my husband worries about me now, especially when he thinks I’m being not quite my usual self. A very thoughtful friend texted me just as a recent puzzle event was getting started, concerned that some of the flashing-light effects might be a problem for me. I love my friends and family so much for looking out for me. I’m so sorry that there’s a need for them to do that.

Work-wise, I’m a lot happier now. I like my job; I like the product I’m working on so much that I come home and play with it in my spare time. I’ve been told that it’s a noticeable change, and that’s a good thing. I don’t think this job is going to wear on me the same way the last one did. But at the same time, I find myself holding back a bit from getting as emotionally invested in this one as I did in the last one. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

I haven’t made significant changes to my habits. I still stay up too late and forget about taking care of myself as well as I should. I don’t call my family as much as they would like, and I don’t take sick time as often as I should. In other words, now that it’s a couple of months behind us, life has gone back to normal for me. The lurking demon is off my radar again, and that probably isn’t a good thing. The meds I take daily do keep me from forgetting about it entirely, so that’s better than nothing.

However, I did make one change specifically with the seizures in mind. I installed an ICE app on my phone, and one of these days I’ll get around to making an actual paper card as well. (The linked article is several years old; the ICE acronym has become much more widely known since then.) I hope the demon never strikes again, but if it does, I’m a little better prepared for it.