Embracing Mortality

Later today, Lor and I will be attending a funeral. It is not for a person who we knew particularly well, but instead the family member of a friend of ours. The death was quite sudden, completely unexpected, and the family is still in shock. So, we will be attending, just to provide what little support and comfort we can.

Normally, I avoid funerals. And hospitals. And nursing homes. Pretty much anything that is tinged with the awareness of the end of life, I avoid if at all possible. I am all too aware that life is fleeting, and I usually want no part of being around for the end of it.

I haven't always been this way. I used to be quite a bit more philosophical about aging, death, and end of life issues. But, in 2004, epilepsy arrived, and my whole worldview changed.

Why is that? Mainly because the type of epilepsy I suffer from, temporal lobe epilepsy, has a really high mortality rate. About 1 out of every 1,000 people die from epilepsy each year. But, for a person suffering from intractable seizures of the temporal lobe, as I do, that rate goes up to 1 out of every 150.

But, wait, there's more! My treatment for epilepsy led to morbid obesity, thanks to side effects from the drug cocktail I was on. The mortality rate for those who are morbidly obese is about 1 in 5. Also, add on to that the mortality rate for hypertension (another condition I suffer from) - about 15 out of 1,000. My health got so bad that one of my very first neurologists informed me that, barring a miracle of some kind, I would be dead before I was 50.

It got to the point where, every morning, I was kind of surprised to wake up.

Today, things are different. My seizures are coming under control. My hypertension is resolved. Earlier this week I graduated from "morbidly obese" to "obese" on the BMI chart. (And if you think that is no major cause for celebration, you have never been morbidly obese.) My miracle arrived, in the form of bariatric surgery.

So, later today, I will strap on my courage and go to a funeral. Sure, death waits for me eventually, like it does for all of us. But for right now, I can go out and bring comfort to a friend who has lost a loved one without being paralyzed by my fear of my own oncoming demise. My grandfathers made it into their 80s (one is still alive and healthier than I am!) There is no reason to not expect that I could have another 30 or 40 years ahead of me at this point. Hiding under the metaphorical bed does no good for anyone, least of all me.

Instead, I can now "work while the sun shines", no longer expecting to be felled by my failing body at any moment. And that may be the ultimate freedom that bariatric surgery has gained for me.

Grateful For Today (Even Though It Includes A Funeral),

- Hawkwind

Fighting The Odds

Photo Credit: stevenkbruno via Compfight cc 

After putting together yesterday's post, I realized a pretty significant question had been left unanswered. I mentioned that I had spent years passively due to my fear of seizures, then all of the sudden I am throwing myself down the sides of mountains and like that. So the question is: what changed?

As far as "my condition" is concerned, nothing has really changed. I still have Epilepsy. I still have to take a cocktail of medications every day. I still have an implant in my chest firing off electrical impulses to my brain every 5 minutes to reset my brain activity. I still have no driver's license, still would probably not last a week at a "real" job. There is still no cure for those of us with intractable seizures, nor is there one in sight that does not involve surgery removing significant portions of the brain. But the truth is this: I finally got to the point where I am more afraid of my obesity than I am of my seizure activity.

Now, don't get me wrong. Epilepsy is still serious business. People with Epilepsy are still 11 times more likely to die prematurely than those without. But Morbid Obesity (my variety) contributes to heart disease, high blood pressure, stroke, and diabetes - which all have their own risks of early death. And, here's the thing: a combination of gastric surgery, combined with diet and exercise changes, can remove the obesity-mortality factors completely.

When I talked with my doctor initially about the possibility of Gastric Sleeve surgery, I blurted out "I want Epilepsy to kill me, not a stroke.", and was immediately horrified at how fatalistic my view was. But my doc just nodded her head as if this made perfect sense to her. And, thinking about it since then, I can actually stand by that statement. If I already have a chronic condition I have been fighting against for over a decade, why not continue that fight, instead of having to engage on an entirely new battleground? Why fight a two-front war?

And, let's not forget the other health improvements. 2 years ago, while having surgery to repair a torn meniscus, my surgeon off-handedly told me that if I didn't lose my excess weight, I would be back in 5 years for a knee replacement. I don't want to have a knee replacement while still in my 40s. Whatever time is left to me, whether 5 years or 50, I want to make the most of. And I can't make the most of it in my current, obese, condition.

10 years ago I was positive I was not going to make it to 50. If I can last 4 more years, I am going to make it that far. I want these years to be active, to push as fast and as far as I can while doing the best I can to manage my Epilepsy. I no longer want to just sit around the house, watching the world pass by outside the window, kept in place by the twin anchors of my seizures and my weight. I want to drag that single anchor just as far as it will go.

Revving Up My Engines,

- Hawkwind