Remember how Topamax was working miracles, eliminating my convulsive seizures and transforming my days into a series of peaceful, anxiety-free, productive moments? (Slight—okay, major—hyperbole.) Well, the tonic-clonic seizure that I had last night reminded me that nothing lasts forever. Not true, actually: even the eponymous and moderately annoying Maroon 5 song is still around. But I digress.
I’m not sure if this totally counts as a breakthrough seizure since I’ve continued to have challenging complex-partials while on my Lamictal-Topamax cocktail; it’s nonetheless disheartening, being my first tonic-clonic in a long while. Though it could have been due to any number of factors, the most likely culprits are a few missed doses of AEDs (I know, I know, but I occasionally fall asleep on the couch before my medication reminder goes off… definitely Topamax’s fault) and the perpetual state of exhaustion and stress that is, paradoxically, partially a result of the Topamax. I prefer the second explanation. When in doubt, it’s best to directly blame my favourite scapegoat.
It’s unpleasant, to say the least, to wake up with a seizure hangover. It’s scary to wonder if I’ll have a major spike in convulsive seizures, which I find to be immensely hard physically, mentally, cognitively, and emotionally. It’s been so nice to have this period of reprieve, and maybe it’s unfair and selfish given how many people have it so much worse than I do, but I really, really, don’t want to go back to how things were a few months ago. I shouldn’t, however, get ahead of myself; this could be a one-off deal. I guess all I can do is talk to my neurologist, keep popping the Topamax, and see what happens.