Has it really been 26 weeks since I first joined epilepsy.com? Looking back, it seems very hard to believe that the time has passed so quickly. My doctor and I have been ever so gradually reducing my Dilantin dosage and introducing Keppra to my system,since early last March. Initial introduction of Keppra was met with much lethargy, dizziness, and confusion. The peripheral neuropathy in my legs seemed to worsen. Add to that, pain from osteoarthritis in my feet and knees and it was tough going for a while. In time, things began to level out and I eagerly looked forward to the end of the school year. As a teacher, I stand most of the day while working with my young students. Daily osteoarthritic/Neuropathy pain in my legs caused me to reflect on the fact that I had absolutely no way of knowing whether this state would ever improve, disappear, or grow worse. If the latter, well, I had things I needed to do, for I might not be able to do them in future. What things? Travel to Sicily, meet my family there and climb a volcano. Plans were made mid June. John and I would leave for Sicily July 14th. Upon consulting with my Epileptologist, it was decided that we would temporarily halt Dilantin reduction until after bloodwork was taken once I'd returned to America.

I'm home from the land of my ancestors, and have been told by my beautiful cousins that I am to return next year. I did indeed climb the inactive slopes of Mt. Etna, and became accustomed to seeing her active cone puff day and night. She grows on you; like a massive compass, she's ever present to help you orient yourself as to your location in Provincia di Catania. We've many lovely mountains here in the Hudson Valley. However, as I watch the hills rise and fall while driving about Orange County, they seem incomplete to me for the first time in all the years I've lived among them. They are missing Mt. Etna's mysterious plumes of smoke.

After hearing about her since childhood, I'd finally seen this volcano with my own eyes. She is breathtakingly wonderful to behold, yet is capable of deadly destruction. She once completely leveled the town of Mascali in 1928. The town was, in time rebuilt by its people. And here I was, 79 years later, standing with my cousin as she recounted the history of the town in the days that followed. Every few years "L'Etna" erupts, destroying whatever homes or roadways her lava flows incinerate as they travel indiscriminately down from the eruption zones. And, as always,the people rebuild.

Forgive the obvious metaphor, but living with seizures is something like living with Mt. Etna. She's always there, lurking, and no one is ever exactly sure when she's going to blow her majestic top. If a seizure can be likened to a volcanic eruption, it does follow that we must "rebuild" after each seizure just as the local citizens do with each explosive assault. Life goes on. The volcano remains. She doesn't go away. The same is true of the Epilepsy we deal with. After each explosive seizure or convulsion, we must pick ourselves up and continue with life. Perhaps the guarded respect that people have for the volcano can be translated into the care we must hold for oursleves. We must be diligent in seeking medical attention, taking medication, and making wise choices for our lives.

I've been feeling a bit fearful as of late. I'm down to my last 200 mgs of Dilantin. The dilantin which has controlled me so well for 40 years, must go. No doubt, the goal of being Dilantin free will be reached soon. Will the last few mgs make a difference? I haven't had a grand mal seizure in over six years. Will this change? I would hate to experience one now. Will Keppra alone work to keep me seizure free? A thousand scenarios present themselves......

When such worries begin to creep in, I must remember that the people in my cousins' region do not live in fear of the volcano. They take each day as it comes and do the best they can. So will I.

So must we all.

Ciao per addesso,
Anna

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