I have a lot of mixed feelings about the bracelet. The bracelet can mean different things including awareness, help, grief, relief and embarrassment. The bracelet in which I am talking about is a new medical alert bracelet that I have purchased due to my continuously growing independence and my recent diagnosis of Epilepsy. A week ago today I was diagnosed with epilepsy and a exactly a week after the diagnosis, my medical alert bracelet came in the mail.
Over the years, I have been very accepting about my disabilities. I have gained insight and knowledge about them and how to create greater awareness. If you know me, you know I love to talk about my "issues" because its all about me and I am a self-centered individual with aspergers syndrome. Lets just face the facts and get that over with now. On the other hand my mother has some differing opinions that seem to make sense too.
As a child, I was very aware about my disabilities. In face, I remember one time when I was in the bath tub as a child and my mother was teaching me how to wash my hair. At that point, I was diagnosed with what people call "Nonverbal Learning Disability". Coming from an individual who is black and white and who is also very young, I asked my mother if I was mentally challenged. I knew I was in the average range, but it was clear to me that I had some issues with activities of daily living, even if thats not what I called them at that point. My mother would teach me how to do stuff, but she would not let me get away with stuff. Lets put it this way, she let me get away withs stuff until the doctor's told her that I was capable of much more.
It is very safe to say that I was Molly cawdled as a child. I didn't learn how to poor a glass of milk or cut my food until I was ten or eleven. It took months to master remembering to put my bra on in the morning and it took years to remember deodorant. I still have trouble with washing my face. My mother was once told that I would be in a group home.
Once I had the diagnosis and everything was explained to my parents, I was taught a lot more. I had potential and my mother wouldn't let me forget that. She would expect me to do stuff that the typical kid my age should do or within two years of my age should do. She didn't let me get away with stuff. Often times I would say I needed something or thought it was a good idea, but typically it was a crutch. When I was a child, my doctor told my parents to not go to the epilepsy conferences because I was setting myself apart from others and using my epilepsy as a crutch.
Today I look back at those moments time and time again. I am aware of much more going on around me. I knew about our local autism conference for a couple of years but I never bothered to let my mother know because to her I was to act normal.To this day, I never use fidgets because they will set me a part. Every once in a while I will use a pen and push the end that makes it go in and out and thats about it.
Once when we were in the psychologists office, my psychologist stated that she wouldn't be in the office for a week because she was going to the autism conference. I told her that I knew what that was as if I had always known. My mother gave me a look and asked me why I hadn't told her this before. I automatically snapped back that I didn't think she would approve of me going to the conference because I am supposed to act normal and not go to special things. Well, from that day forward my mother and I have been going to the autism conference.
When I had the seizure in July, it was quite a shock to be told to head to the ER. I thought we were simply reporting an "anxiety attack", but my doctor thought it could be a seizure. When I heard that it could be a seizure I instantly started thinking about this coming school year where I will be in classes of three hundred kids with no personal assistance. I thought about getting a medical alert bracelet, but i also wondered if my epilepsy was too mild. I neglected to tell my mother my thoughts and ideas for I feared she would put them down. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but sometimes we have different opinions and thats okay. I can be a little dramatic sometimes.
When she brought up the idea of the medical alert bracelet, I took it to hard. I really thought about it and talked to some other adults. My disability specialist thought I should get one and so did my neurologist. It was a go. The next step was picking out which company I had to go with and what bracelet I wanted.
That week, I went to the grocery store where our local pharmacy is, to pick out my bracelet. I took a couple of flyers, but nothing really looked great to me. I picked a couple bracelets out and posted pictures on facebook. Many people looked at them and gave their opinions. Others decided to criticize or question me on why I would post such a personal thing and decision on facebook. Once again this was the setting my self apart theory at work. I have to say I got a little bit assertive with my answers.
I want to look at in a simple and fun way. Epilepsy i a condition I have and nothing tis going to change it. Its not something I can hide if I want to be independent and most importantly safe. I was simply asking for fashion opinions when i posted the pictures and to be perfectly honest, I must admit that my fashion senses aren't always the best. Look at me, the girl who wore crocs for 5 years and was given heck about it. Its just a face of life and if you have a problem with it, you not worth my time.
I got over the hurdle of picking out my bracelet and answering personal questions about why I was publicly posting this. I punched my order in and now it was time to put the engraving information down. I have my diagnosis and my parents phone numbers on the back. Never call 911, unless instructed to. The majority of my seizures are not life threatening unless I am alone and near traffic which will most likely never happen and in that case, no one would be able to call anyway. The numbers are on the back to direct those who have not dealt with my seizures before and are uncertain about what to do or why I am acting a certain way.
The bracelet came today. My mother was tempted to open and thank goodness she didn't. it was awesome to open the package and see how this bracelet looked. It had my favorite color on it: pink. I put in on and started thinking. I know that it sets me apart, but I do that to myself all the time. I also know its a sign of independence and that it can help me and thats great. My problem is how will other people think about me. I know those that are worth my time won't care, but does this bracelet make me look like my epilepsy is worse that it is? its really hard to deal with this. I was put on medication a week ago, but I was already taking medication for other stuff. It felt so great getting off my seizure medication five years ago. It was really hard to realize that I do still have epilepsy.
A week ago, I walked into a doctors office hoping that I had epilepsy. What a horrible way to look at things, but it was an answer to a long awaited question and prayers. Its still not a definite since my EEG is normal, but its likely. Its really hard to come to terms with the idea that you have a condition that people think of a severe. They think of huge grand mal seizures. Mine are little tiny episodes where I don't remember stuff and am a little confused. Granted its scary, but its not dangerous. I am sitting here proud to be wearing this bracelet. I am proud that I don't fear people asking. I am proud that I hope people can ask questions, but there is that little part of me that just hurts inside. I am feeling relieved and grieving at the same time. Is that possible?
I am going to continue to wear this bracelet. The fact is its just hard when you have a physical object that is a visual representation of a disorder you have. At least with autism, fidgets could simply be toys. I do admit that we do have an autism ribbon on the back of our car that I am very proud of, but no one knows who is autistic. I am proud to be and educator and public speaker. I know I can do this and this bracelet is important. After all its pretty fashionable, my style and will help me in the long run. The trouble is dealing with a diagnosis of epilepsy in the end. its sounds so scary, but its not life altering. I sill have the same plans for my future as I did two weeks ago or even a year ago for that matter.
I will leave you with this to think about and ponder over. If anyone has any questions, feel free to comment and I will be willing to answer. After all I love to educate and advocate. :)
Dickinson Mental Health Charity Ball
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
The Cat Who Thought He Was King
When I was five yeas old, my parents decided to surprise me with two kittens for my birthday. One we named Inky and the other one we named Baby. We were so delighted to have two little kittens in our house, but then chaos began. The cats started getting into everything.
My parents picked out the cats and renamed them. I'm not sure what Inky's original name was but Baby's was something that had to do with trouble. My family clearly didn't pick up on that when we got him. Boy was he a trouble maker. He would go through our house and just create chaos knocking down glasses and doing whatever else he could do to cause trouble. We eventually gave him away to my great-grandmother's nursing home back in 1998. I have no idea if he is still alive or not.
About a year later, a friend of ours found four kittens under her camper with no mother in sight. My parents proceeded to ask me if I wanted another kitten. What's a little girl supposed to do??? Of course I said yes!!! I got to pick which cat I wanted and I even got to name her. At that age I was obsessed with the original disney movie "The Aristocrats". I named my nice new calico cat Ally because I remember hearing the term "Ally Cat" in the movie. At that age I didn't have to fight with the family over who got to name the cat.
Another year went by and we ran into another rescue. We were out camping with family friends who had two teenage girls. The girls had been home all day instead of at the campground. It was lumberjack days too. We were all sitting around the campfire enjoying ourselves and awaiting their arrival. When they arrived they had the tiniest black kitten with them that had the biggest blue eyes. They told their parents that they had rescued this cat off the street and that there was a white one that they couldn't catch. They asked their parents if they could keep the cat to which their parents replied with a big "NO".
My father was sitting by the campfire with a big black coat on. He held the kitten and it curled right up on his should and fell asleep. At this point we knew we had to keep this cat; he was perfect in every way. A year later we found out that they had bought this cat at a local rescue and told their parents that they had found it on the street with the hopes of keeping it. To this day we still bring that up as a great story to tell people. The cats name was Jack because we were at Lumber Jack days.
Sadly ten years later, Jack had difficulty breathing. We took him to the vet a few times and we sadly had to put him down. He would of just continued to suffer. Now he is at peace and his ashes are kept in his loyal human companion's room. The family had a hard time coping; especially my mother and my brother.
Due to my empathy, I have never had a huge connection with pets. I love them and I care about them, but if they are in my space and I am annoyed, I will definitely let them know that I don't want them around. Ally will typically just plop somewhere and i end up picking her up so I can sit there. I love them, but I don't care about them like I do with human kind. When Jack died, I didn't really grieve. We lived in the same house, but I barely knew him. I knew he was my mothers CEC (chief executive cat) as he was affectionately named. I didn't grieve though, but my mom did and I went along for the ride, actually quite literally.
Through my mothers grieving process, her and I decided that we were going to go "look" at the cats at our local pet rescue. I was told not to ask for a cat and to just look because we didn't want anyone to get upset. I don't think my father will let my mother and I ever go out to a pet store alone, again. We looked at all the cats and we were really good about it. I didn't beg and my mom was doing okay, but when we were leaving, something miraculous happened. A young woman came in with a cat that was no more than 4-6 weeks old. I could fit this cat in the palm of my hand practically and as you can see above he could easily fit in a coffee mug. The shelter had no room for the cat. I did end up asking my mom if we could please take him. We went out to the car to have the young woman follow us home with the cat. Her mother popped out of the car and it was our neighbor. We brought him home to the boys who assertively told us that we were not to bring another cat home. We brought the cat in and my brother's face lit up. From that day forward we kept the cat and his name is George My brother named him.
My mom always told me that cats pick people, but people don't get to pick the cats. I always thought that due to my empathy, the cats not ever going to pick me. I thought about stuff that I should do to make a cat love me. Everyone has had a cat in the house except for me. They never really pick me I always thought that if we had four cats there would be one for each of us but thats not how it works all the time. George ended up picking my brother. He's spent a lot of his time in my brother's room as of lately. I think that is going to change soon though because someone has been sleeping in my bed a lot lately.He's a little spoiled.
During the school year I wake up at the same time every morning. I could swear George knows how to tell time. He must be paying attention to when I wake up because for a couple days here and there my cat would come in and sit down beside me to wake me up. It felt really good, but then things changed. He didn't do that anymore, but he went back to my brother's room again. Lately that hasn't been the case again.
George is back in my room now. Every morning he will come in and sometimes he will even lay down to take a little nap. This morning he decided that he was going to do a little more. He came in a little late since its the summer and I have been sleeping in a little bit. This time instead of finding a perfect cozy spot, he laid right down and fell asleep. he curled up in between me, my arm and my body pillow. He laid there on his back like a little baby and fell asleep. I would pet him and he would purr, open his eyes, stretch and fall right back to sleep.
I started to doze in and out of sleep while loving every minute of his attention. I kept wondering when he was going to get up since he never stays there that long. I was hoping he would get up soon, but I knew it wouldn't last. That cat really knows how to be the king. He knows how to rule the roost. He gives you that innocent face when you move. That face just tells you how much he loves you and you just can't resist it. I knew I had to get up because I have been on a really good schedule with my sleep lately. I just kept telling myself, a couple more minutes. thats it. He just continued to lay there. I'm pretty sure he thinks he is the king and he is pretty spoiled. He is my favorite cat after all.
I finally had to say it was time to get up at 9:30. If you know me, your lucky if I stay asleep past 7:30.That cat knows how to suck up I tell you. Today all I can say is how much I love this cat that only knows innocence. He used that precious face of his to show off to my brother and father and he used that powerful face to keep me in bed. His snuggles are so nice and warm and way better then stuffed animals. Lets just hope I get some more love from him again soon. After all, I think he curled right back up in the warm spot I was laying once I left.
My parents picked out the cats and renamed them. I'm not sure what Inky's original name was but Baby's was something that had to do with trouble. My family clearly didn't pick up on that when we got him. Boy was he a trouble maker. He would go through our house and just create chaos knocking down glasses and doing whatever else he could do to cause trouble. We eventually gave him away to my great-grandmother's nursing home back in 1998. I have no idea if he is still alive or not.
About a year later, a friend of ours found four kittens under her camper with no mother in sight. My parents proceeded to ask me if I wanted another kitten. What's a little girl supposed to do??? Of course I said yes!!! I got to pick which cat I wanted and I even got to name her. At that age I was obsessed with the original disney movie "The Aristocrats". I named my nice new calico cat Ally because I remember hearing the term "Ally Cat" in the movie. At that age I didn't have to fight with the family over who got to name the cat.
Another year went by and we ran into another rescue. We were out camping with family friends who had two teenage girls. The girls had been home all day instead of at the campground. It was lumberjack days too. We were all sitting around the campfire enjoying ourselves and awaiting their arrival. When they arrived they had the tiniest black kitten with them that had the biggest blue eyes. They told their parents that they had rescued this cat off the street and that there was a white one that they couldn't catch. They asked their parents if they could keep the cat to which their parents replied with a big "NO".
My father was sitting by the campfire with a big black coat on. He held the kitten and it curled right up on his should and fell asleep. At this point we knew we had to keep this cat; he was perfect in every way. A year later we found out that they had bought this cat at a local rescue and told their parents that they had found it on the street with the hopes of keeping it. To this day we still bring that up as a great story to tell people. The cats name was Jack because we were at Lumber Jack days.
Sadly ten years later, Jack had difficulty breathing. We took him to the vet a few times and we sadly had to put him down. He would of just continued to suffer. Now he is at peace and his ashes are kept in his loyal human companion's room. The family had a hard time coping; especially my mother and my brother.
Due to my empathy, I have never had a huge connection with pets. I love them and I care about them, but if they are in my space and I am annoyed, I will definitely let them know that I don't want them around. Ally will typically just plop somewhere and i end up picking her up so I can sit there. I love them, but I don't care about them like I do with human kind. When Jack died, I didn't really grieve. We lived in the same house, but I barely knew him. I knew he was my mothers CEC (chief executive cat) as he was affectionately named. I didn't grieve though, but my mom did and I went along for the ride, actually quite literally.
Through my mothers grieving process, her and I decided that we were going to go "look" at the cats at our local pet rescue. I was told not to ask for a cat and to just look because we didn't want anyone to get upset. I don't think my father will let my mother and I ever go out to a pet store alone, again. We looked at all the cats and we were really good about it. I didn't beg and my mom was doing okay, but when we were leaving, something miraculous happened. A young woman came in with a cat that was no more than 4-6 weeks old. I could fit this cat in the palm of my hand practically and as you can see above he could easily fit in a coffee mug. The shelter had no room for the cat. I did end up asking my mom if we could please take him. We went out to the car to have the young woman follow us home with the cat. Her mother popped out of the car and it was our neighbor. We brought him home to the boys who assertively told us that we were not to bring another cat home. We brought the cat in and my brother's face lit up. From that day forward we kept the cat and his name is George My brother named him.
My mom always told me that cats pick people, but people don't get to pick the cats. I always thought that due to my empathy, the cats not ever going to pick me. I thought about stuff that I should do to make a cat love me. Everyone has had a cat in the house except for me. They never really pick me I always thought that if we had four cats there would be one for each of us but thats not how it works all the time. George ended up picking my brother. He's spent a lot of his time in my brother's room as of lately. I think that is going to change soon though because someone has been sleeping in my bed a lot lately.He's a little spoiled.
During the school year I wake up at the same time every morning. I could swear George knows how to tell time. He must be paying attention to when I wake up because for a couple days here and there my cat would come in and sit down beside me to wake me up. It felt really good, but then things changed. He didn't do that anymore, but he went back to my brother's room again. Lately that hasn't been the case again.
George is back in my room now. Every morning he will come in and sometimes he will even lay down to take a little nap. This morning he decided that he was going to do a little more. He came in a little late since its the summer and I have been sleeping in a little bit. This time instead of finding a perfect cozy spot, he laid right down and fell asleep. he curled up in between me, my arm and my body pillow. He laid there on his back like a little baby and fell asleep. I would pet him and he would purr, open his eyes, stretch and fall right back to sleep.
I started to doze in and out of sleep while loving every minute of his attention. I kept wondering when he was going to get up since he never stays there that long. I was hoping he would get up soon, but I knew it wouldn't last. That cat really knows how to be the king. He knows how to rule the roost. He gives you that innocent face when you move. That face just tells you how much he loves you and you just can't resist it. I knew I had to get up because I have been on a really good schedule with my sleep lately. I just kept telling myself, a couple more minutes. thats it. He just continued to lay there. I'm pretty sure he thinks he is the king and he is pretty spoiled. He is my favorite cat after all.
I finally had to say it was time to get up at 9:30. If you know me, your lucky if I stay asleep past 7:30.That cat knows how to suck up I tell you. Today all I can say is how much I love this cat that only knows innocence. He used that precious face of his to show off to my brother and father and he used that powerful face to keep me in bed. His snuggles are so nice and warm and way better then stuffed animals. Lets just hope I get some more love from him again soon. After all, I think he curled right back up in the warm spot I was laying once I left.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
College??? Psshhh!!!!
During my grade school years, I was in title one classes and learning support classes. In the beginning I was put in the title one class as a resort for help without a diagnosis. Once I finally go the diagnosis, I was sent to learning support where I did the majority of my work: math, reading, writing, spelling and big projects. I then had the transition to middle school and eventually high school. During my high school years I was placed in itinerate support.
All through high school I was told by all the teachers that college would be so much harder; i wouldn't have the same support services in college that I did in high school. Fortunately with new technology and new laws passed regarding the ADA, I have been able to get the majority of the same services I got in high school. Some of these services I was receive are extended time on tests, information in alternate formats such as getting my powerpoints ahead of class on my computer, and a word processor for writing extensive tests. I originally thought that I was going to be lucky if I went in looking for extended time on ALL tests. The man asked me what I had as accommodations in high school and he matched it. The only two things that are missing are extended time on PROJECTS, and a social skill group. Sill things, I know!!! Right???
Often times adults talk about how hard transition is. I don't know if its my outgoing personality or the fact that my parents are huge supporters for me, but I feel as though my transition has moved pretty smoothly. Of course we all have bumps int he road, but they have been small. I am feeling very positive about this college experience. I am excited about college, but let me share you a story first.
When I was in elementary school, my school district had k-5 in the elementary school and then you moved to middle school. When I was in fifth grade my class was warned to make friends because later on I wouldn't be able to. Knowing that I had social skill difficulties, I went out and pushed for those friends. I was going to be the popular kid. Well, you know how that goes!!! I had the largest problems finishing my elementary school years, but i was determined.
Finally, I got to middle school. I was with a whole new group of kids and I was taking a foreign language. I was set in stone with what I was doing. I made friends and I got along with most of the girls. That teacher who told me that I was going to have trouble making friends was proven wrong. I was prepared to deal with the worst. I wasn't told of good things to come, but I was told of those horror stories.
Now I am heading off to college. I have been warned that college is going to be hard. I won't have the services that I might have had in high school. I have to let go of my mommy's hand. I have also been told the horror stories of individuals with aspergers who have gone to college. I have heard of kids who didn't know what to do with there time so they would go outside and pace. I have also heard of kids who have gotten their degree and are working as janitors now. I hear all these horror stories again, but how am I supposed to believe them. Maybe I have been lucky or maybe I am a miracle child. Maybe I don't even know whats ahead of me. No matter I what, I want to believe that the horror stories I have heard have prepared me more than they have hurt me. I want to believe that I will do great in college and I do believe that.
There have times when I have been told stuff that has hurt me. There have been times where my mother has thought I have been scared off, but the fact is that I bounce back. One might think these stories are hurtful. Maybe these stories are like little pinches or bumps, but they have really helped. If I wasn't warned about making friends, i wouldn't have worked as hard to make friends in middle school. I would've gone in thinking that it would be easy. For some it may be easy, but for others it might be hard. Maybe things are easier or harder for me than one might no. I think it is good to know and be warned of stuff ahead, but never take anything to heart. College may be hard, but i'm going to leave you with a quote. "The only disability in life is a bad attitude" unkown
All through high school I was told by all the teachers that college would be so much harder; i wouldn't have the same support services in college that I did in high school. Fortunately with new technology and new laws passed regarding the ADA, I have been able to get the majority of the same services I got in high school. Some of these services I was receive are extended time on tests, information in alternate formats such as getting my powerpoints ahead of class on my computer, and a word processor for writing extensive tests. I originally thought that I was going to be lucky if I went in looking for extended time on ALL tests. The man asked me what I had as accommodations in high school and he matched it. The only two things that are missing are extended time on PROJECTS, and a social skill group. Sill things, I know!!! Right???
Often times adults talk about how hard transition is. I don't know if its my outgoing personality or the fact that my parents are huge supporters for me, but I feel as though my transition has moved pretty smoothly. Of course we all have bumps int he road, but they have been small. I am feeling very positive about this college experience. I am excited about college, but let me share you a story first.
When I was in elementary school, my school district had k-5 in the elementary school and then you moved to middle school. When I was in fifth grade my class was warned to make friends because later on I wouldn't be able to. Knowing that I had social skill difficulties, I went out and pushed for those friends. I was going to be the popular kid. Well, you know how that goes!!! I had the largest problems finishing my elementary school years, but i was determined.
Finally, I got to middle school. I was with a whole new group of kids and I was taking a foreign language. I was set in stone with what I was doing. I made friends and I got along with most of the girls. That teacher who told me that I was going to have trouble making friends was proven wrong. I was prepared to deal with the worst. I wasn't told of good things to come, but I was told of those horror stories.
Now I am heading off to college. I have been warned that college is going to be hard. I won't have the services that I might have had in high school. I have to let go of my mommy's hand. I have also been told the horror stories of individuals with aspergers who have gone to college. I have heard of kids who didn't know what to do with there time so they would go outside and pace. I have also heard of kids who have gotten their degree and are working as janitors now. I hear all these horror stories again, but how am I supposed to believe them. Maybe I have been lucky or maybe I am a miracle child. Maybe I don't even know whats ahead of me. No matter I what, I want to believe that the horror stories I have heard have prepared me more than they have hurt me. I want to believe that I will do great in college and I do believe that.
There have times when I have been told stuff that has hurt me. There have been times where my mother has thought I have been scared off, but the fact is that I bounce back. One might think these stories are hurtful. Maybe these stories are like little pinches or bumps, but they have really helped. If I wasn't warned about making friends, i wouldn't have worked as hard to make friends in middle school. I would've gone in thinking that it would be easy. For some it may be easy, but for others it might be hard. Maybe things are easier or harder for me than one might no. I think it is good to know and be warned of stuff ahead, but never take anything to heart. College may be hard, but i'm going to leave you with a quote. "The only disability in life is a bad attitude" unkown
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Take a nap!!!
Really??? I thought this to myself as I lay down in chair and hear the nurse tell me i need to take a nap!!!! I didn't say anything to her, but I sure had a lot that I could say, circling through my head. Last week I had the EEG which will hopefully clear the questions we have had for the past five years. Yes, i have been suffering from episodic amnesia or seizures or anxiety attacks or whatever else you want to call this for the past five years. The fact is that we need to get down to the bottom of it. I went for some diagnostic testing at my local doctor's office this past week and I am still waiting for the answers, but now getting my hopes up.
As I was sitting in a really comfortable chair, waiting to be hooked up to electrodes, the technician let me know what all she was going to have me do. She told me she was going to put these electrodes on my head and have me do stuff. Then she told me that I could take a "nap", which I thought was fine. I thought I could try, but if I didn't succeed, oh well. The test began and then the unprofessional nonsense started.
The tech started off by telling me about all the clients she has had. She told me stories of teenage boys her screamed their head of in agonizing pain and fear. She thought that was ridiculous and so did I but really??? Then when my mom got in the room the lady promptly told me to shut up because I am not supposed to talk during the test. She hadn't said anything about that until my mom stepped foot in the door. She started the test with some sighs and frustration. She told me to do stuff and then told me to go to sleep!!!
Yes, I was sleep deprived for this test and I was all prepared to fall asleep for the test, but man was I unprepared for this wonderful arrangement and schedule. First of all she told me to take a nap. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but how am I supposed to do that with the lights on??? Then I proceeded to complain about how cold i was and she told me that its always like that and that she wears jackets down there all the time. Then she had music playing in the background. She also just had to be typing away on her keyboard.
I got done with the test and she took everything off. My mother then proceeded to ask if i fell asleep. Her response? No, she got dozy. Most seizures happen when you fall asleep or wake up. She didn't give me time or the environment i need to sleep in. You would have thought she would have at least waited for that. Now i still feel back to square one and am feeling very doubtful about this test.
May I also tell you that i do have aspergers so therefore I have sensory issues. I also have sleep insomnia. The conditions may not be perfect, but if you can make simple accommodations like turning of the lights and music, go for it. Now we have a message into the doctor about whether the results were accurate because someone didn't know how to act professional. May i also say that I am not being picky considering that I sleep with a weighted blanket, about 5 pillows, 3 stuffed animals and birds chirping!!!
We'll se where this goes from here!!!
As I was sitting in a really comfortable chair, waiting to be hooked up to electrodes, the technician let me know what all she was going to have me do. She told me she was going to put these electrodes on my head and have me do stuff. Then she told me that I could take a "nap", which I thought was fine. I thought I could try, but if I didn't succeed, oh well. The test began and then the unprofessional nonsense started.
The tech started off by telling me about all the clients she has had. She told me stories of teenage boys her screamed their head of in agonizing pain and fear. She thought that was ridiculous and so did I but really??? Then when my mom got in the room the lady promptly told me to shut up because I am not supposed to talk during the test. She hadn't said anything about that until my mom stepped foot in the door. She started the test with some sighs and frustration. She told me to do stuff and then told me to go to sleep!!!
Yes, I was sleep deprived for this test and I was all prepared to fall asleep for the test, but man was I unprepared for this wonderful arrangement and schedule. First of all she told me to take a nap. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but how am I supposed to do that with the lights on??? Then I proceeded to complain about how cold i was and she told me that its always like that and that she wears jackets down there all the time. Then she had music playing in the background. She also just had to be typing away on her keyboard.
I got done with the test and she took everything off. My mother then proceeded to ask if i fell asleep. Her response? No, she got dozy. Most seizures happen when you fall asleep or wake up. She didn't give me time or the environment i need to sleep in. You would have thought she would have at least waited for that. Now i still feel back to square one and am feeling very doubtful about this test.
May I also tell you that i do have aspergers so therefore I have sensory issues. I also have sleep insomnia. The conditions may not be perfect, but if you can make simple accommodations like turning of the lights and music, go for it. Now we have a message into the doctor about whether the results were accurate because someone didn't know how to act professional. May i also say that I am not being picky considering that I sleep with a weighted blanket, about 5 pillows, 3 stuffed animals and birds chirping!!!
We'll se where this goes from here!!!
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