When Life Isn’t How You Planned: Diastat

 

Some people think certain things shouldn’t be shared or said, and this is probably one of them. We all value our privacy… But Lord knows this blog is not about privacy or painting a picture of health. It’s about honesty and real-life, for some of us.

I looked at the pharmacist as she held up the largest syringe I’ve ever seen, while expecting something far different than the directions she gave me. From what I understood from my doctor, these would be injections into the tush… But after repeated questions and my making sure it was completely clear how to administer this new medication, I understood that this wasn’t what I thought it was. This huge syringe came with lubricant wipes. It’s supposed to be inserted rectally.

I did everything I possibly could not to cry in the drive-through as the CVS pharmacist went through just another uninteresting interaction with a customer. That for me, just another customer, was anything but mundane. Seizures already rob you of any normalcy and replace that with insecurity when someone around you – no matter who it is- has to see you in the throes of one. But then the thought of knowing on those incredibly difficult, terrifying nights, my husband will have to flip me over on my stomach and insert this tube into where I wasn’t expecting, became exceptionally mortifying and degrading.

You’d think after being married, having a baby, and knowing that your husband and close family have all seen you disgustingly contorted, there’s no way you could possibly feel lower or more self-conscious.

But this did it.

And as soon as I pulled away from that window, my vision began to swim. And I just wanted to stare into nothingness for a while. But my son started talking, the light turned green and my phone immediately rang, my husband asking about dinner. Life went on and I didn’t get a chance to just breathe.

I wanted to cry. To absorb and to let go. To have a moment to myself.

A lot of us don’t get that. No matter our situations, but I wanted to be selfish in that one moment. I pulled into the driveway and let my son out and then sat in the car and contemplated locking myself in…

…but it was dark, we needed baths and dinner, and life goes on…

Yet I did sit in the car for a moment, focusing on the stitching of my steering wheel, my husband asking me why I wasn’t moving and my son asking me if he could stay out and play in the dark. I said nothing, then mumbled, then they finally went inside.

And I got to cry, actually feel those tears come to fruition. Just sitting there in the driveway, private except for the light of the street lamps.

I knew going in they’d both see my face; the black trails down my cheeks and ask me what was wrong, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I all of a sudden felt so tired and just… sad.

I took a deep breath and got out of the car and walked into the house.

We needed baths and dinner, and I couldn’t meet my husband’s eyes this time.

Life goes on…

Just sometimes not the way we planned. 💜

9 thoughts on “When Life Isn’t How You Planned: Diastat

  1. Anonymous says:

    Seriously, investigate if there’s an option. I was initially prescribed these when I was a teenager, as a precaution. Fifteen years on it’s clear my disorder has proven to be completely controlled by AEDs. What the people prescribing these injections don’t understand that to some people they are worse than injury or death. I am one of those people. At the time I didn’t know I wouldn’t need them. But I made sure to get rid of them, without my parents knowing. I accepted that I would be taking a huge risk, but there was no way I was gonna allow anyone do that to me. To me, not having been the person to give consent to being prescribed them in the first place, it would have felt like nothing short of rape.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sherri Faulkner says:

    I’m so sorry you and many others have to go through these emotions due to epilepsy. Of course, it would sound completely undignified to the epileptic , but to the person trying to save your life, Diastat puts power in our hands- especially when no medical help is around. I understand that it takes away your power and control and l think that is awful . It’s a truly traumatic situation for all involved, but for a moment that wasn’t planned, the hope is to come out ALIVE.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Dawn Himan says:

    Well my darling it could be worse….I cannot really think of many other ways yet….but if it makes you feel better I used to have a migraine medecine and called the doctor and wondered why it rasted away and was so big!!! I was supposed supposed insert them rectally….explains why it was shaped like a Lilly bullet ;) all we can do is laugh cherub. If you learn you to laugh at yourself first you beat them to the punch 😘

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Freya Symes says:

    You are a tower of strength Megan! Thanks for sharing, you have no idea how many people will be able to relate and how you will be helping them by vocalizing this. Such a courageous strong woman, I hope it helps the seizures.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Lauren says:

    We used diastat for my daughter until we switched to cannabis. Aside from that- I didn’t they prescribed the rectal form to older children, or even adults! Have you ever had a rescue med before this? Because there’s more options than just rectal- like a nasal spray, or a dissolvable tab that goes under the tongue.
    I definitely feel for you on this 😔

    Liked by 1 person

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