If you know me well, you know I hate hospitals. I’ve spent a lot of time in them, but never for myself, and that’s the main cause of my hospital-related anxiety. They trigger all those thoughts – something bad is about to happen. Our family isn’t going to be able to afford this. We’re going to have to go to another funeral.

This time, though, it was me in the hospital bed. After coming home from a late Friday night session, I went to bed. But I felt strange. My hands, feet, and mouth were getting numb. And as I sat up to try and explain it to Eric, I found that I couldn’t form words. I was slurring. My brain could think of what I wanted to say, but my mouth physically couldn’t form the words. He called an ambulance. I went to the emergency room, had 3 MRIs, and was admitted. A neurologist diagnosed me with a complex migraine, showed me the white matter lesions that ornamented my brain scans, and sent me home Sunday afternoon with pain medication and a recommendation of rest.

So I rested. I slept. I stayed home from work. I missed lessons. I was super careful at rehearsals.

And then, slowly, I started doing all these things again. All the while, my symptoms were exactly what people describe with a mild concussion. Forgetfulness. Lack of concentration. Headaches. I booked an appointment with a second neurologist, who suggested that my symptoms were stress-related.

There isn’t much of a point to this post, really, because I’m still not entirely sure what happened or why. It’s harder not knowing sometimes. I’ve just recently felt like myself again – able to hold on to thoughts for more than a moment at a time; able to get through a few weeks without a headache; able to get through a day without napping. And that’s about it.