I know there's no "Best of" in that title, but I'm breaking with that habit for this post. Because there's no "best" in what happened on Friday, except for what happened after. You'll understand in a second. After our harrowing experience, Grant and I have spent the weekend just lazing about our house with Henry, alternating between watching Olympics and Weeds in the living room and bedroom.
Friday, 8/8/08, was our 9 month anniversary. I had an amusing post planned to commemorate it -- was gonna write it yesterday -- about how we could have had a baby by now if we had had sex on the first date. (Some of you know just how possible that situation could have been :) Instead, I'm writing this.
We went to an expensive dinner at the Chalkboard on Friday night, getting all dressed up and taking pictures with our new cameras. We shared a bottle of wine, ate a lot of food, and then decided to go home to watch the Olympics opening ceremony and maybe celebrate a bit, if you know what I mean. The only reason I mention it was an expensive dinner is because after we ate, I got all stressed out and worried about how much we had spent on one night. I worry a lot -- too much -- about money. All the time. We got in my car to go home, and Grant asked me what was wrong. I didn't want to tell him I was worried about money AGAIN, so I said nothing, and was kind of silent for the first part of the ride home. He knew something was wrong, and offered to drive, but I told him I was fine. We weren't even listening to the radio. When we got on the highway, we were both silent, and I was mad at myself for being worried and mad at Grant for not understanding.
He slammed himself into the passenger side window and then back in his seat. I thought he was acting mad, which made me more mad. It was dark, but I looked over, and his entire body was convulsing. At this point, I started screaming at him "GRANT! GRANT! JESUS CHRIST, GRANT ANSWER ME!" He didn't respond at all. His hands were contracted and pulled into his body, every muscle seems to be spasming, his eyes were rolled back into his head, and he was unconscious. I made sure he was still breathing, and I think I checked to make sure he had a clear airway, but I was terrified that he was dying and I didn't know what to do. I fought with his convulsing legs -- while driving -- to get to my purse at his feet and get my phone. I tried calling my mom on her cell, and then got her at home, and just said, "Momma, Grant is having a seizure in the car and I'm driving and I don't know what to do and I don't know where the nearest hospital is and HE WON'T ANSWER ME and he won't stop..." There was lots of crying, lots of "I can't do this!" and probably some "FUCK"s as well. My mom is a saint.
She told me to keep driving (we were almost to Sapulpa at this point, and I knew I could find the hospital), asked if he was breathing, and said she'd call his parents so they'd meet us at the emergency room. I tried calling his mom's cell phone, but no answer, so I called her back, and she hadn't gotten a hold of them either. I tried calling Whit, so she could call her parents or her aunt and uncle, but no answer. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless. I was crying and screaming, and staying as calm as I could while watching someone I love so very much seize in the seat next to me.
Grant spoke. I started asking him what had happened. He didn't know who I was. I started crying harder. I asked him if he knew his name. He said "Grant." I asked him the year (2008), I asked him if he had a girlfriend (yes), I asked him her name (Court), and he said he knew who I was. We were in Sapulpa. I asked him for his parent's phone number; he didn't know it. I asked him if he remembered anything; he said he remembered dinner and offering to drive. Thank God I didn't let him. He thought I was acting crazy. I told him he had had a seizure and that I was driving him to the hospital. He was so pale and confused. My phone rang, and "Grant Thompson" showed up on my screen. I thought he was joking with me and calling me, so I was confused, but when I answered, it was his dad and they were on their way. (I still had their home number programmed in my phone under Grant.) My mom was able to get through to them, and they met us at the hospital a few minutes after we arrived.
I had to tell the nurses what had happened because Grant still doesn't remember a thing. He threw up, and they put him in a room for a few hours to make sure he didn't seize again. They asked him about medications, about being in the hot weather, about doing anything out of the ordinary. He was less confused by this point, and I recited all his meds and habits and told three different people what had happened. After not being able to find his vein, he finally got his blood work done. Rich, his super nice doc, ordered a cat scan to make sure he had no blood on his brain. Suddenly, I remembered a new medication that his doctor had prescribed a few weeks ago. Grant had only taken it once, and it made him feel watery-headed and punch drunk, so he didn't take it anymore. Until Friday morning, because he had an appointment with that doctor. That medication causes seizures in my boyfriend. When everything came back normal, Rich agreed it was the medicine. We were relieved it wasn't something worse.
We came home and crawled into bed. We spent the entire next day together.
I'm especially clingy and like to just touch him to make sure he's still there.
I still haven't let go of what happened, and I'm carrying it around with me. Go hug and kiss whoever you love RIGHT NOW.