My Election Seizure of 2016

I woke up to doctors and nurses hanging over me, telling me I had dislocated my shoulder and then mercifully I heard, “push Ativan,” and my light went back out.

The night before the US elections, in which Donald J Trump became President, I had a Grand Mal Seizure. I never had a seizure in my life. It was so violent that I pulled my own shoulder out of socket. When I came to, I was confused and in pain. I didn’t know what happened to me.

Just prior to the seizure, I had been lying in the hospital stretcher in the ER eating popcorn. I remember looking into the bag to see if I could find the last of the kernels. That was my last memory. My husband was turned away, when he heard the bag rustling and thought I was a little too aggressive in getting to the last of the popcorn! When he did look over at me, my body was contorted and in full rigor-it was a terrifying scene. He yelled for help and staff rushed into my room.

I dislocated my shoulder in a bus bathroom while traveling. My husband and I were dropped off at the Danbury Police Station to wait for EMS. Why I was traveling by bus and how I had a traumatic event occur in a bus bathroom is not something I have the courage to recall at this time.

Two weeks prior to my seizure, I started a new antidepressant, Wellbutrin. I had my heart transplant in February, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I was diagnosed 3 months after transplant with breast cancer (because G-d has a sense of humor). I was waiting to have a double mastectomy as I needed more time to heal from transplant until I could endure another major surgery. Waiting months to have my breast removed was like ripping off the slowest band-aid ever. I thought the antidepressant would help lift my mood. Instead it was the culprit for what ultimately would cause me more challenges.

At the time of this writing, I have dislocated my shoulder FIVE agonizing times. Several of my shoulder dislocations required ambulance rides and propofol (you know the drug Michael Jackson died from taking). My husband watched once as it took multiple efforts to put my arm back into socket and at one point I screamed in the middle of the sedation, requiring more propofol. My husband thought it violent and horrific, which is probably why they usually want family in the waiting room.

Earlier in the day, while I was shopping I started to experience the first onset of symptoms. My knees buckled and I had moments of confusion. I had problems following my grocery list. I noticed that I was having tics and tremors. My head and hands were shaking.

I barely made it home. I was so tired. I called my husband and off to the emergency room we went, just in time to have the seizure in the gurney. It’s been 18 months and I am still having problems from this seizure. Neurologically, I am fine. I don’t have a seizure disorder. Rather I was told that the anti-depressant, like many medications, lowered my seizure threshold. I was on anti-convulsants for six months, but since the seizure was “provoked” and they knew the reason, I was able to be weaned off of this medication.

My shoulder surgery is scheduled and I just hope I don’t dislocate it again. It’s possible that I might need a shoulder replacement in my lifetime. Which is a ridiculous thought that I push out of my mind. I also need a “bone transfer,” where they take bone from another part of my body and patch up and fill in the bone loss that I am chipped away in my shoulder from each traumatic dislocation. I was told that I might need bone from a cadaver donor, but so far, they can use my own bone. (Isn’t medical advancement amazing.)

At the hospital again after dislocating my shoulder. It was an agonizing 2 hour drive to the ER. I screamed and yelled obscenities. It was not my finest moment. The face mask is so that I don’t pick up any germs, since I am immunosuppressed.

While traveling, I dislocated my shoulder on two different trips. Traveling with me is fun, I usually get to visit a local hospital. The first “holiday shoulder dislocation” I was hours away from any medical help. I swear, my husband drove like he was returning a video to Blockbuster to get me to the ER. In all fairness, it was a difficult drive along a two-lane road filled with tourist and me screaming obscenities. Sometimes, I am not so graceful. The other dislocation happened in a bus bathroom, which is a nightmare that at this time I do not have the courage to re-live its telling.

So when I think of Donald J Trump becoming the 45th President of the United States, I recall memories of pain and suffering. I know, that many others feel this way too. All I can say, is that time heals all wounds.