I’ve fainted before.
A handful of times, dating back to when I was still in my teens. The last time I fainted was about a year ago and I brushed it off as the effects from a flu bug. Prior to that, it was shortly after my mom had her stroke sixteen years ago. At the time, I blamed it on stress and low blood sugar and lack of sleep and everything else that twists your normal routine into a knot after an emotionally jarring event.
After what happened last week, I’m fairly sure that those events I experienced in the past weren’t fainting episodes. They were seizures.
Saturday, my wife and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. We were chatting across the kitchen counter and I was fetching the spiralizer attachment for the stand mixer from its box. I remember experiencing a slight wave of nausea, like when you stand up too fast and suddenly realize that you shouldn’t have had that last tipple of scotch or refilled your glass of wine after a meal. You squeeze your eyes closed and think to yourself, “Oh, that’s not good …” and then the room tilts.
I should’ve sat down, but wasn’t able to make the connection between cause and imminent effect. I blacked out, collapsed, and woke up on the floor trying to process the sounds around me while pushing through the neurological fog that had dropped like a wet blanket on my head.
It happened again while we were waiting in an emergency intake room at the hospital. That same wave of nausea (and an distinct itching sensation in my nose, oddly enough) as I was standing beside the examination bed. I told my wife “I’m feeling it again.” She had me lie down, which I did and immediately blacked out. Apparently, my eyes rolled back and my face went white.
I’m sorry she had to witness that. It must have been scary as shit.
Fortunately, the emergency room doctor also saw what happened and pretty much confirmed that it was a seizure caused by temporal lobe epilepsy (TLE). My initial bloodwork and CT scan came back clear, so this is a manageable condition. I’m currently on meds to mitigate the brain “storms”, an MRI will be scheduled, and I can’t drive for six months.
So, I didn’t faint before. Actually, I think I had a seizure.
As per most evenings, my wife has gone to bed a couple of hours ago. I’m still up, but have pre-ground the coffee for tomorrow morning and tidied up the bits and bobs of kitchen detritus. My brain is still wide awake, thinking about the efficient placement of electrical conduit, uninterruptible power supplies, and red wine blends.
As one does, I suppose.
I never managed to meet Dean Allen in person. We shared one of those sporadic internet acquaintenceships that sometime grow into something else, but usually don’t. His recent passing caught me by surprise, but it also made me realize … that sporadic internet acquaintenceship helped shape that way I look at things, often channelling his unique style of observational whimsy. I promise to continue doing that. It’s the least I can do.
Spotted at outdoor swimming pool in Calgary. Guest appearance by a rather unfortunate instance of Hermann Zapf’s Optima typeface.
Currently several zones off standard time.
Snow Leopard Forever.
Originally posted on Twitter, I felt this tidbit needed to be shared here as well.
“The entire neighbourhood smells like ham this evening.”
Good morning. Please direct me to your nearest cup of coffee.
This is just a quick test of mirroring to GitHub after adjusting the access token scope again. This time I have only set the repo scope.
One of the details left out of the documentation is that you need to enable the repo-related scopes when defining the personal access token.
Initially, I had used the default scope settings which don’t grant access to anything. I’m not surprised that didn’t work. My second attempt granted access to the repo scope, but that seems to apply only to private repositories.
My latest change granted access to the _admin:repohook scope. This scope includes read and write repository hooks.
I stopped blogging.
I’m not entirely sure why it happened, but it did. Nearly a decade ago, the almost daily stream of observations, asides, links, (and brainfarts) I had been posting to my site dwindled to a sad, prosaic trickle.
Actually, I do know what happened.
I’d like to flip that relationship back to something that feels more like those first few years I was blogging. Perhaps micro.blog is a manageable catalyst to make that transition.
Let’s find out.
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