|Picture borrowed from Google images|
As soon as the warning came out of the technicians mouth, I was trying to figure out a way to be able to prove that warning wrong. I came up with the brilliant idea to stand in front of a fan so that the wind would blow the heat/fire away from me. That way, any flammable fumes that might be wafting from my scalp would be blown away and I wouldn't catch on fire. Guess what? My plan worked. I've smoked 1/2 a pack of ciggies and haven't erupted in a fiery ball of death yet.
Since I was told that I basically wouldn't have any life for a few days I also started trying to figure out a way to break the monotony. A girl can only watch so much TV and read so many books. Surfing the world wide interwebs even gets boring after a while. I asked my technician if since she was ruining my life by warning me not to smoke, did that mean I had to give up my weekend beer also and lo and behold, I was told that I could imbibe. Thank gosh for that! It was one small victory.
I don't think I'll push the warning of not bathing. I'll take a sponge bath and be ok. I'll even make myself stay in one spot for 3 days and space my allotted 20 minutes of exercise out over multiple little roaming ventures. I'll faithfully make entries in my activity diary so that when the doc looks at all the little squiggly lines on my EEG, she'll know that the increase in squiggles just means that I got up and headed for the fridge for another beer. At 6 am.
I must admit, I'm pretty curious to see if anything odd shows up from this test. It doesn't seem right that I careen into walls as I'm walking down the hall. And it doesn't seem right that my eyes jump wildly when I look from left to right or right to left and that I feel like I'm having mini heart attacks. Maybe it's because my little brother hit me in the head with a dinner plate sized rock when we were playing"pebble toss" and I got a concussion. Or maybe it's because of the time I hyperventilated and fell out on the concrete and hit my head. And got another concussion. Or maybe it's because I'm an oddball. Who knows.
I have to tell ya, any time someone tells you that you can't do something, it's going to be the thing that you want to do the most. Even if it's something gross - you'll want to do it. I promise. I'm confined to my bed or my sofa and I want to clean house and mow the yard (in 100+ degree heat) and bathe the cat (which I've never done, but want to do now), and change the oil in the lawnmower, and clean the gutters and re-program the computer that's in another room, and defrost the freezer and re-fluff the insulation in the attic! I want to do all of that and more! Because I can't. I wonder what I'll do first once I get all of this shit off of my head and the cameras go away. Probably sit on the sofa and watch TV.