Losing Part of Myself

It's 6:22 p.m., and I've just taken my last dose of anti-seizure medication—Levetiracetam.

For many stroke survivors and those recovering from brain surgery, seizures can be an unfortunate reality. Some are violent and involve losing consciousness. Others are more subtle: fogginess, pauses, or lapses in thought. I experienced the latter. Thankfully, I’m not considered high risk anymore. Still, taking this final pill marks a milestone in my recovery.

But with that milestone comes a quiet grief. I miss parts of my old self.

I still can’t feel the right of my back, a permanent reminder of the trauma I’ve survived. It's a small price to pay for a second chance at life, but it’s a cost nonetheless.

My focus now is to live medication-free and to get back to doing the two things I love most: walking long distances without a cane, and reading and writing freely. I thought the walking would matter more, but it's my ability to read, to think clearly, to learn; that’s what I miss the most.

Even now, this isn’t me typing. I’m dictating into a speech-to-text service. I need help from my wife to read emails. She’s taken on so much—raising two kids, managing the household, handling the admin and finances—all things I once carried. And I know I’ve overburdened her.

Still, I’m hopeful. New prescription glasses are on the way. I hope they’ll take the edge off the visual strain and help me reconnect—with the world, with learning, and with people.

Here’s to progress. One day at a time. I’ve still got it.