Stroll for Epilepsy

The morning air is cool as I wait at the bus stop. I think how the summer is waning and am glad I wore a long sleeve shirt. My feet still hurt in the same sandals I wore last night, but I like the reminder as I savor the afterglow.

Around five o'clock the pavillion at Como started to fill up with people in tennis shoes, workout pants and matching t-shirts. Some had the grey shirt from last year's Epilepsy Foundation walk, some the blue shirts from this wear. Still others wore the colors, logos and names of their teams. Red shirts with ladybugs, dark purple shirts with T-Rexes, pink with tiaras and the ever-present yellow of Hannah's Bananas bonded them together around the person for whom they walked. Vibrant greens, navy blues and Superman capes represented the clinics, hospitals and pharmaceutical companies that help care for us. Foundation employees and volunteers with name tags ran around setting out signs, checking in teams, giving directions, making sure people knew where to get water. And me: I stood behind a table of books with John, watching and enjoying it all as a large smile graced my face. 

Last night was the largest Twin Cities Stroll for Epilepsy yet, and we're so happy and grateful. Thank you to everyone for your advocacy and support for such a wonderful organization!

Living In a Brainstorm the book now available!!

Opening a new window in my browser, I cautiously typed in the address for Amazon, careful to choose each letter correctly; no spelling mistakes to slow me down. The logo appeared first and I read the sign under it, cajoling me to Try Prime as the rest of the page rendered. Finally the cursor blinked in the search box and I typed in my name, quickly this time, my caution replaced by impatient excitement. E-r-i-c-a E-g- the auto-complete filled in the last two letters and I thrilled that the electronic behemoth knew my name. Two seconds might have been an eternity as the search list populated, and there, right there at the top, was my book: Living In a Brainstorm. Available in paperback and Kindle. My book, my story, the six months that changed my life.

I decided to split the book into three parts: Part I Decisions, follows my decision to have surgery and all of the testing - both physical and emotional - that went into it. Part II Surgery is comprised by the eight days I spent in the hospital having two surgeries to hopefully cure my epilepsy. It's told partly by me but also in part through the emails and messages that went back and forth between my parents and my family and friends as they kept everyone updated and drew strength from each others' love. The last section, Part III Recovery, includes my first excursion out of the house, figuring out how to go up and down stairs again, getting staples taken out of my head and learning how to depend on other people let them in.

I want to thank everyone for all of their love and support throughout this amazing, terrifying, thrilling, painful, wonderful journey. I couldn't have done it without each and every one of you and I will be eternally grateful.

Love,

Erica

CreateSpace: https://www.createspace.com/4323804
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Living-Brainstorm-Erica-Marie-Moos/dp/098953801X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374451089&sr=8-1&keywords=living+in+a+brainstorm

May

I watch the wind blow the red, white and blue British flags hung on the rooftop of the pub across the street as I sit in the waiting room of the clinic at work. It's been humid and cloudy here for a week now and it feels like ages since I've been dry. My skin feels wet, the clothes on my back and in my dresser (read: my floor), the couch, the kitchen, everything. I'm hoping for the sun to come out soon, the flapping fabric of Her Majesty to blow away the muggyness.

It's been about 20 minutes since I handed my lab order to the man who came into the room and introduced himself in a mumbling I couldn't understand. Apparently you can't just bring in an order anymore, they need to call your doctor for a diagnosis code before they can even draw your blood.

Ooh, I heard a chart slipped into the rack on the door - maybe he's coming back!