Wanna know what's awkward? Asking people if they're comfortable with me coming to their house, being around their kids, being out in public.
It's bad enough that I do not feel comfortable taking a shower long enough to shave my legs without Brent in earshot. And, hahaha...forget about taking a bath. Could you imagine the dramatic outcome of that? I'm not looking to pull a Whitney minus the crack...and alcohol...and news team coverage. (Too soon?)
But, I felt obligated to go to a meeting at Jackson's school to find out if I'm still able to volunteer there without being considered a liability.
I signed up to go to a scrapbooking crop at a friend's house next week, with the caveat of "this is what's happening and if you're not comfortable, I fully understand." The host is so sweet in asking simply what my seizures look like and what to do in the event one happens.
I'm nervous to go to church, of all places, because I've had three seizures there...one of which was during the benediction. "May The Lord...(eeehhhh ...eeeeee... gagagagaaa) ...keep you and bless you...(ggggggggaaaaa)...all of your days through." Supposedly, only our close friends in the pews around us could hear me. In my head, I was thinking "Sweet Jesus...ain't nobody got time for that!" (YouTube Sweet Brown Tosh.0 for the reference.)
And you know, I'm lucky I'm Presbyterian. There are extremist churches that would love to lay hands upon me to defeat the devil that is obviously plaguing my body. (Ahem...it's my brain waves; not a sign from God that I am immoral or sinful. Although...)
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