Let’s start with … Homerus
Let’s start with … Homerus
"Blind is he, who sings to us.."
(F.Prešeren, Glosa)
The desired study was changing into a nightmare. The
irony of the insight, how I should playout the epileptic axioma and carry out
part of the study obligations, was materializing itself. Ego versus alter ego. The
first one did not allow a way out, the second one realized, that there is
nothing other, but a way out. Exit … One will need to choose a path that does
not exist.
The illness takes a toll, one after another …
My parents want surgery, even if there is nothing that
can be operated on. But at least they would do something, it would not be like
in “Mesto Goga”, where everyone was just waiting for something to happen. The
narrow prism through which they see me know is different, not positive at all,
and creepily painful. One needs to go pass that, one needs to go away…
Rare friends persist, the discourse becomes small
talk, ‘love’ does not understand and it is written in my gut as the most
unbelievable reality, linked with epilepsy.
I drop out hoping, that someday I might continue to
study. I am advised against having a child, I am forbidden to breathe. I think
of carbon monoxide. Epilepsy would be of beautiful pink colour.
The absolute trust in professionalism of the medical
staff is something that was always close to me, and deep inside I was sure they
will succeed. On the medical level. But anti-epileptics don’t reach the wounded
psyche.
Let’s start .. Life is, after all simply an
experiment.
Clonazepam (Klonopin, Antelepsin, Rivotril, other
names– benzodiazepine class)
Exhaustion, 8 steps means an unattainable challenge.
Fatigue drags me back to my nightmare dreams in the mornings.
Tears get stuck
in my throat. The surroundings determinately crushes me to sharp pieces.
Starting side effects …
