On Seizures and the Third of July
Remember how I wrote that at least two of the sentient nonhumans who share my home would be dead in short order without me? Well, approximately quarterly, the most uncanny occurrence repeats itself in my house. For some reason, I’ll be compelled to check on Violet–or she’ll come over to me and have the strangest look in her eye–and within moments she’s having a seizure (she’s diabetic and the seizure is caused by very low blood sugar. Coma and death follow if nothing is done.).
On the Fourth of July, we almost always have "a situation," as my husband calls it. Violet’s blood sugar can be fine all day (we check it), but when she gets upset–you know, like from what sounds like the house getting shelled intermittently for three hours–her blood sugar can plunge very quickly. Charles and Emily are equally unhappy about fireworks, and do a lot of pacing and vomiting. You can see how today isn’t my favorite day.
And with Dave being in DC for the weekend, I’ll have my hands full.
I use Rescue Remedy and/or Green Hope Farm’s "Arbor Garden" to alleviate the anxiety of the creatures, I close up the house, and I blast Gregorian chants, Krishna Das, and every om nama shivaya and om mani padme hum I can find (here’s a funky Om Namah Shivaya by Krishna Das) in every room of the house. You don’t have to believe in god to appreciate the healing (or at least mellowing) power of chanting.
Oh, but wait, that’s for the Fourth of July–NOT the third.
It was 8pm. There I was, watching Into Great Silence, which is 162 minutes of monks in the French Alps quietly going about their lives–and I mean quietly (there’s no dialogue)–and random, earsplitting fireworks sounding like missiles, started to go off. We’ve been having dangerous thunderstorms each day, and today was supposed to be the worst day, so I’m thinking people were taking advantage of a lull in the weather to shoot off some of their M80s and other such ridiculous devices.
I was compelled for some reason to check on Violet, and there she was, splayed out on the bedroom floor, having a seizure. Her eyes were popping out, she was panting and heaving, and she couldn’t hold her head up. Charles came running and paced in front of her, distressed. Emily emerged from under the bed and craned and bobbed, as if she were smelling something.
I grabbed a tube of glucose gel and smeared some on Violet’s gums. It took two very long minutes for her blood sugar to increase to a whopping 30 (It was probably under 20), and for the next three hours it went up and down, but never too far down. I gave her five drops of Arbor Garden, and by 11pm she was sleepy, her blood sugar was fine and the fireworks were over.
The weather has taken a turn and it probably won’t be as bad as it was forecasted to be, therefore the Fourth of July show at the stadium a mile away and the local one on my village green, won’t be canceled.
Wish me luck.
