<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:11:28.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in Epilepsy</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>70</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-4146373538015049010</id><published>2012-01-30T12:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T12:46:49.768-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend From Hell</title><content type='html'>Here's a day-by-day recap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Friday: The Dog Tried To Kill Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I am nearly blind without contacts or glasses and like most middle-aged people who are in this predicament I have learned how to navigate my way to and from the bathroom in the middle of the night with no sight.  Most nights, this happens with a minimum of injury.  This past Friday night my dog tried to kill me by lying directly in my path.  As I was gingerly trying to step over what I knew to be her sleeping blob at the foot of my bed, she nervously tried to move out of my way.  Her huge collie-butt collided with my size 8 foot and I catapulted myself over her so that I wouldn’t hurt her when I went down.  When it was all over and done with, I sprained my knee and my elbow and have some pretty serious rug burn on my cheek and eye socket.  I really think I might have gotten a hairline fracture of the cheekbone, but never did go to the ER to get it checked out.  As she is getting on in age herself, I have cut her some slack in her previous murder attempts at night.  This time all the animals got a life sentence of no more sleeping in my bedroom at night. Of course, this translated into all of them waiting breathlessly at the door just waiting until someone opened it up enough for them to make a mad dash through the opening and my husband and I opening the door just enough to toss them back out (repeat endlessly throughout the weekend).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Saturday: Shuffled Along Like an Elderly Woman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Due to the injuries from the night before, the pre-existing mid-back arthritis and disc issues, I walked through Saturday like some old, decrepit, foot-in-the-grave woman.  I was moaning and groaning my way through the Farmer’s Market, turning heads with my brilliantly colored rug burn that was not very well covered by makeup.  Every time I dropped something I had to estimate the value of the item being picked up against the pain I would incur by actually trying to bend over.  I left a trail through the market, let me tell you, but I survived the day.  I made sure I survived the night by taking some pain-killers and going to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sunday: Slicing Pineapple With My Thumbnails &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;On Sunday morning I decided I would like some fresh pineapple purchased at the market the day before.  So I got out my handy-dandy, super sharp pineapple peeler/corer and merrily went about my business of slicing pineapple.  It might have been the fact I just got out of bed, or the fact that I was hopped up on vicodin from all the injuries, but I totally wasn’t thinking when the base of the pineapple got stuck and I flipped over the corer to push it through.  Yeah.  A few choice words, tons of blood, and a box of bandaids later I was good to go.  At one point, every member of my family had commented on my unusual grace and panache.  I made it my goal to make it through the remainder of Sunday and into my bed without further injury.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-4146373538015049010?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/4146373538015049010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=4146373538015049010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4146373538015049010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4146373538015049010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2012/01/weekend-from-hell.html' title='Weekend From Hell'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3070545230061914447</id><published>2011-12-13T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T09:39:16.621-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Reason I Don’t Update More Often</title><content type='html'>This is going to sound like an excuse, but to some degree it is the truth.  I know that there are a few that routinely check this blog for updates on Kelsey and her condition and current therapies.  Not from personally knowing Kelsey or our family or even out of concern, but because they or someone they love is going through similar circumstances.  Whenever Kelsey isn’t doing well I tend to batten down the hatches and keep to myself.  It’s a personal and family struggle, but not one we talk about often outside of the family.  I don’t want to let our issues dash someone else’s hopes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, it’s been a long time since Kelsey has had control.  She has daily seizures and we can count on at least one, if not more, every night.  Her neurologist had pretty well said that the best we can do right now is adjust her meds until we see some results.  We are waiting for the FDA to give final blessing to a new drug, Potiga, which might be an option for Kelsey and should be available in the next few months.  Her current therapies include a multitude of drugs (Keppra, Lyrica, Lamictal, Zonegran, Klonopin, and Zimpat with Diastat as needed), all taken together and in dosages high enough to take down a fully grown adult male.  That doesn’t even begin to encompass all the other drugs she’s been on previously.  She had a parietal lobe resection in 5/08, and a VNS implant in 8/09.  With all of this there is no control.  In addition to the horrible seizure disorder, she battles depression and migraine-type headaches that are related to the underlying epilepsy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are days where between the fog of seizure activity and the side-effects of medication, it’s a wonder that she remembers who she is and where she is.  She is slow, not mentally slow – don’t get me wrong – she’s extremely intelligent.  But she is slow in response time, whether speaking or moving because of all the side-effects from drugs and seizures.  Socially she has suffered because to some degree right now she is essentially home-bound.  She’s in college only two days a week and most weeks she is fortunate if she makes it just one of those days and is able to stay all day.  Outside of the immediate family she doesn’t really get a lot of public or social interaction.  She’s lonely, and it breaks my heart.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn’t want anyone’s pity, though.  Through all of this, my girl has been strong – much stronger than a lot of adults are in her situation.  We get comments continuously to the tune of, “how does she deal with it,” or “how does she cope,” or some variation of that.  Seriously, though, what’s the alternative?  Laying down and surrendering?  As a child, we haven’t ever allowed that as an option for her.  As a young adult, I hope she never chooses that option for herself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family lives and loves through this horrible, horrible disorder.  We are stronger together than a regular family could ever be.  My girls look out for each other (don’t get me wrong – they will cut a sister within the house!) but they are tight.  Ferney and I parent through this as best we can and we fail.  A lot.  But we don’t let this disease define us, or Kelsey.  We make it part of our story, our history, and our life without making it more of a focus than it has to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3070545230061914447?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3070545230061914447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3070545230061914447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3070545230061914447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3070545230061914447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/12/one-reason-i-dont-update-more-often.html' title='One Reason I Don’t Update More Often'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5136233785582114666</id><published>2011-07-18T07:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T07:11:50.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>End of the Potter Era</title><content type='html'>Like many across the country this past weekend, we took the girls to see the end of the Harry Potter films.  Of course, I embarrassed myself by crying like a moron at the end of the movie, but not for the reasons you’d expect.  All of their lives I have read the same books and series that the girls have – just one of those “mom” things I guess, to make sure I was aware of what they were doing.  I began the Harry Potter books with them when they were just pre-teens.  Kels and I would switch off the book, her reading during the day and I would take it at night so that we were both reading at the same time.  This happened with each book as it was released.  When the movies began to be released, Cam was at the Harry Potter reading age, as well, and so the tradition continued.  Reading the books and then watching the movies with all three girls.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the last film when I began crying, it wasn’t because of any events within the movie.  It was because just like in the movie, I had seen one season of my girls pass before me.  I started this journey with them and at the end, they had somehow magically turned into beautiful, young women.  Oh, how that hits the heart of a mom…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5136233785582114666?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5136233785582114666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5136233785582114666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5136233785582114666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5136233785582114666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/07/end-of-potter-era.html' title='End of the Potter Era'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-6155513812860065116</id><published>2011-03-02T07:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T07:59:03.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ADVANCING SLOWLY</title><content type='html'>I have a couple of pieces of good news.  First, I took a lateral transfer here at work and will begin my new position in a couple of weeks.  While this is just a lateral move, I am hopeful that it will reduce some of the intense stress that I have each and every day.  I do not have a “stress” personality, and to be so drained and stressed out each and every day is taking a toll on my health, my family, and my sanity.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second part is that I just got my official request to apply for the PCE part of my alternative certification.  It’s a little known fact to most people that I am working on my second degree and alternative certification to teach here in the great state of Texas.  Getting that request in my inbox was proof that what I have been working towards will shortly come to fruition.  I am so over working anywhere in the healthcare industry.  Even though it’s a HUGE pay cut to go from my position into education, I feel that this is definitely something that I can do and enjoy for the 2nd half of my working life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-6155513812860065116?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/6155513812860065116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=6155513812860065116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6155513812860065116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6155513812860065116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/03/advancing-slowly.html' title='ADVANCING SLOWLY'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8220785827000943342</id><published>2011-02-08T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T19:45:58.547-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epilepsy Update</title><content type='html'>We had the quarterly visit with the neurologist today.  Bottom line is that Kels has once more lost decent control of her seizures.  We're at a holding pattern - brain surgery, VNS implant, scores upon scores of drugs (Keppra, Dilantin, Carbotrol, Tegretol, Zonegran, Lamictal, Lyrica, etc.) and nothing has worked for her.  This is her life and could very well be her lot for the rest of her life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At today's visit, she looked at her doc and asked, "Why do I keep losing control?"  His answser?  Due to the ever changing nature of seizure disorder in some patient, they have no idea.  My question was, "Will she ever gain and keep seizure control?"  His answer?  No idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want so badly for my baby to have a normal life.  This is the normal, though.  And it sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8220785827000943342?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8220785827000943342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8220785827000943342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8220785827000943342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8220785827000943342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/02/epilepsy-update.html' title='Epilepsy Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-4268109661537612938</id><published>2011-02-07T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T18:28:54.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blood Pressure and Other Pressing Issues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/TVCqYITkg3I/AAAAAAAAAGs/2nimfDZhMFc/s1600/1875745_f520.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/TVCqYITkg3I/AAAAAAAAAGs/2nimfDZhMFc/s320/1875745_f520.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571140070580454258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My employer offers this great, onsite fitness center.  It's free, it's open during the work day, and it's convenient.  So in my infinite quest for better health (and the quest of being the BEST looking 40 something year old I can be) I went to sign up this morning.  I filled out the online questionnaire, scheduled my prerequisite orientation, and then took my handy-dandy health form down to one of the clinics to get a nurse to take my blood pressure and sign my form.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when things took a downward spiral.  My first pressure reading was 184/117, which nearly caused my friendly nurse to have a stroke of her own.  She strongly urged me to go to the ER, however I told her that I didn't want to go to the ER.  I have a doctor's appointment scheduled with my own practitioner in a couple weeks.  She said that my pressure was stroke level and again strongly urged me to see if I can get in a little sooner.  I told her that I had to plan my days off and that I had one scheduled and would be fine until then.  So she made me promise to come back in a couple of hours and let her take the reading again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to lunch time.  Second reading was 164/107 -- hey, moving in the right direction, right???  But no wash, she insisted on my seeing the doc sooner and to top it off?  She didn't sign my form.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What better way to prove I'm unhealthy enough to want to get healthy, right?  Yeah, didn't fly.  So instead I came home and popped a Lisinopril and will call my doc in the morning.  All this for a little exercise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-4268109661537612938?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/4268109661537612938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=4268109661537612938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4268109661537612938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4268109661537612938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/02/blood-pressure-and-other-pressing.html' title='Blood Pressure and Other Pressing Issues'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/TVCqYITkg3I/AAAAAAAAAGs/2nimfDZhMFc/s72-c/1875745_f520.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5511652630087311905</id><published>2011-01-24T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T18:51:21.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired and Venting</title><content type='html'>Just to clarify – I have a blessed life.  I have overall great kids, a wonderful husband who loves me, a nice house, a good job, etc.  I am fortunate that God takes care of all my needs and the needs of my family, most of our wants, and we still have plenty.  But…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who know me in real-life know that I usually am NOT a complainer, whiner, or habitual griper - it’s not normally my nature.  That being said, this past year I’ve become extremely unhappy at work, generally disillusioned with the workplace as a whole and with my immediate area in particular.  While my home life is great – marriage and hubby are wonderful, as always, my kiddos are sorely testing my patience and fortitude lately – the older two mostly. My father has stressed me out with the whole remarriage thing.  The hubby’s family is stressing me out with financial matters that are out of my control but affecting my family.   I find myself short on tolerance, short on understanding, and just generally unhappy.  I am physically feeling the effects of constant stress – the headaches, the aches and pains, the nausea, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spewing all that I have to say that I am wondering HOW to get past this point.  I’m wondering WHY I’m just now feeling all of that when life has been much more difficult and overall horrible in the past than it is now.  Is it hormonal in nature?  Am I at that magic age where the mood swings, hot flashes (oh, geez – the hot flashes!!), and the crankiness rule for a while?  Am I at a point in my health where things are starting to break down and the aches and pains aren’t just stress – heart problems, WLS related difficulties, etc?  WHAT is going on with me physically and mentally?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would NEVER, EVER trade my family in – I love my husband and my girls.  But...  But there are days where I longingly think about taking my hubby (who tolerates me right now like a champ) and just running away.  Finding a new job (hey – I can be a Wally-world greeter anywhere!), finding a new place to live, a new environment and just being me.  Not the mom, not the good employee, not the whole, total, functional mess that I seem to be right now and cannot seem to grow past.  I think that Montana might be a cool (literally!) place to live.  I’d love to live again in New Orleans (uh, but I have family there – see above stress factors).  California is appealing (but those unpredictable earthquakes make me shake).  Anywhere but here sounds tempting some days.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all two of my faithful readers – do you ever go through this?  Thoughts?  Suggestions?  Reprimands?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5511652630087311905?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5511652630087311905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5511652630087311905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5511652630087311905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5511652630087311905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/01/tired-and-venting.html' title='Tired and Venting'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7735803496509703912</id><published>2011-01-20T19:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T19:20:31.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SHORT UPDATE</title><content type='html'>I seem to start every single entry with the words, “It’s been a long time since my last update.”  LOL.  Lots of normal life going on.  Kels has lost control of the seizures again and we are playing with her meds.  She had a sleep study done over the Christmas break and we go in on Tuesday for results.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Life with the other kids is going along as normal as it ever gets.  Kate is graduating in May and is as hot-and-cold with me as ever.  I guess like a normal teenager she likes me at certain times and not at others.  Cambo is such a sweet kiddo that I hope her head doesn’t begin to spin around when she hits the teens.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wonderful hubby is great, as always, loving us all no matter the level of hormonal outbreaks in the house, thank God.  Work is work.  I am working hard to get out of this career and into another – hopefully by the end of this year.  &lt;br /&gt;Short and sweet – but I’ll try to get better about the updating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7735803496509703912?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7735803496509703912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7735803496509703912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7735803496509703912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7735803496509703912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2011/01/short-update.html' title='SHORT UPDATE'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-341577956349196777</id><published>2010-10-13T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T08:41:15.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Distractions and Directions</title><content type='html'>Wow!  I was on a roll for a little while there.  Kels has once again lost seizure control and so we are back in the cycle of playing with medications to see if we can gain it back for a while.  She's been having more and more auras and seizures over the last couple of months, but the kicker was last week.  She was on campus between classes when she lost her vision.  (Quick aside -- were you aware that most community colleges do not have on-campus nurses or infirmaries?  Yeah, neither did I.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called her neuro to report in with this relatively new aura symptom and he was concerned enough to send us to the ER.  After looking her and checking her out, it was decided that this was probably the beginning of a massive wave of seizure activity so they load-dosed her with IV Dilantin, which she immediately had a reaction to.  It not only burned her veins, but caused her blood pressure to drop some.  After flushing the line and trying twice to give her the IV Dilantin, it was decided to give it to her orally and have us double-up on her regular seizure meds for the day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday when her neuro called to say that he would like to keep her current seizure meds (Keppra, Lyrica, and Klonopin) as they are because the dosages are already high, and add Lamictal back to see if it works for her control.  Right about this time her brain activity got so overwhelming that she began to lose sleep and then total insomnia while being so very tired she couldn't hold her head up.  So her psychiatrist added to the Lunesta a short acting Ambien to see if helped.  Last night was her first night taking it and it seems to help some.  Between the Klonopin, Lunesta, Ambien, Melatonin and Benadryl, it's a wonder she doesn't just conk out "thinking" about bedtime.  Geez -- I'd be a zombie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news...Right after we got the ER last week, I decided that we would out of courtesy let the ex know via text that we were at the ER for preventative reasons per the neuro (even though Kels didn't want him there and she IS 18 and could have prevented it).  Instead of seeming concerned, the text we got back was angry-sounding and demanding to know when this happened, why didn't we let him know sooner, and had we planned to tell him at all?  Not immediately asking about Kels, but all about the anger and accusation.  I am SO very tired of all of this.  The girls choose not to be around him and we constantly try to encourage them to talk to him, spend time with him.  They just do not like to.  He believes (and I know this for fact because he has stated to me and to the girls multiple times) that I prevent them from seeing him.  That I trash-talk him in front of them.  That I am withholding "his" children from him.  This has NEVER been the case, and it is extremely frustrating to be accused of something over and over and over that isn't true. He would much rather believe that I have something to do with his kids not liking to be around him than the fact that it just might be his own attitudes and behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to quit before I rant too much longer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-341577956349196777?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/341577956349196777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=341577956349196777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/341577956349196777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/341577956349196777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/10/distractions-and-directions.html' title='Distractions and Directions'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-370297056301881649</id><published>2010-09-18T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T09:35:33.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgiveness</title><content type='html'>I have to forgive myself for not being a better parent.  I know that parents everywhere have their regrets, and I'm not saying that my regrets are bigger than others.  BUT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with most families that have a child with special needs, whether mental, physical, or medical, the attention during times of crisis turns mainly to that child, with the understanding that they need you more right then.  Over the last ten years, especially when I was a single mother, it seemed as though all my waking attention and concern was focused on Kels.  I know that Kate and Cam are great and well-adjusted girls; however, I feel like I let them down in some way.  There were days of tears and tantrums when Kate desperately needed her mom to just stop and love, but I couldn't.  There were days that Cam took more care of herself than I did, I just couldn't be available because of being on seizure watch and after-seizure care.  That regret is something that I'll probably carry all the way to my grave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's an amazingly inspirational blogger that I read pretty frequently - Anissa at Free Anissa (link to her blog in my sidebar).  Quick background, one of her children was diagnosed with cancer and the family went through treatment.  She wrote a post titled &lt;a href="http://www.hope4peyton.org/2008/a-letter-of-apology-to-my-kids/"&gt;"A Letter of Apology to My Kids."  &lt;/a&gt;While Kels doesn't have cancer, but chronic and severe seizure disorder instead, her words pretty well sum up the way I have felt lots of times over the last 18 years.  Take a minute and read, you'll gain a whole new insight into the mind of a mother with a child with special issues.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-370297056301881649?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/370297056301881649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=370297056301881649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/370297056301881649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/370297056301881649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/09/day-03-something-you-have-to-forgive.html' title='Forgiveness'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-4655033589934835277</id><published>2010-08-23T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T08:09:18.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day Blues</title><content type='html'>Today two of my girls started back to school.  Kate as a high school senior, and Cam as a brand-new Jr. High 6th grader.  Kels will begin college classes on the 30th.  I look at my girls and wonder where the time went.  Wasn't it just yesterday that they were infants on my hip?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest one to send off was Cam because she's so much younger than her classmates.  She so very much a little girl, naive and sweet and my baby.  I really want to keep her that way as long as possible, but I know she's got to grow up and go on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so very proud of my girlies -- the best things I have ever had in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-4655033589934835277?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/4655033589934835277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=4655033589934835277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4655033589934835277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4655033589934835277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/08/first-day-blues.html' title='First Day Blues'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7336147311329761546</id><published>2010-08-18T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T18:42:50.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Filing Makes Me Cry</title><content type='html'>My project for the last week has been to go through about two years of personal papers, filing, shredding, and just generally cleaning up the office area.  This evening I was sitting on the floor going through a huge stack when I came across a stack of sympathy cards and the newspaper obituary from mom's passing nearly a year ago.  All of a sudden I went from bored filing to sobbing uncontrollably.  Hate when that happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7336147311329761546?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7336147311329761546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7336147311329761546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7336147311329761546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7336147311329761546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/08/filing-makes-me-cry.html' title='Filing Makes Me Cry'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-499150959221530911</id><published>2010-08-17T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T10:57:08.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Filtered</title><content type='html'>I'd like to apologize to my readers (all three of them).  It's been quite a while since my last post, but there have been good reasons I promise! I can't talk about work because, hello!  I need the paycheck.  I can't talk about school, because that would lead back into talk about work (see above).  I am reluctant to talk about the girls because of certain legal action that is in the works.  So, how's the weather been in your neck of the woods??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-499150959221530911?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/499150959221530911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=499150959221530911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/499150959221530911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/499150959221530911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/08/filtered.html' title='Filtered'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-6179527403398812558</id><published>2010-02-18T11:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T11:29:23.572-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have Been to Barcelona</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S32VDRZDfvI/AAAAAAAAAGU/5vwLKLp4qzY/s1600-h/barcelona2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S32VDRZDfvI/AAAAAAAAAGU/5vwLKLp4qzY/s320/barcelona2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439667808374062834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went to dinner at this great little Mexican place around the corner from our house.  It was one of those nights where Kait indulges us by gracing us with her presence.  Moms of teenage girls – you know how this goes – the horrendous eye-rolling every time I say something, the deep, soul-cleansing sighs when I try to be funny, the put-upon stares to other dining patrons.  After about half an hour of trying to engage her in conversation I just gave up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right about this point the waiter comes to the table to ask if we needed anything and from the other end of the table I hear Cam say, “I have been to Barcelona.”  This was so totally off the mark that I stop talking to the waiter, turn to Cam and say, “Child!  You have never been to Barcelona!!”  Then Kait beings to laugh hysterically.  So I turn to her and say, “This?  You’re laughing because Cam believes she’s been to Barcelona?”  And Kate goes, “Did you hear what she said?  She said I have been to Barf-a-lona”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kid humor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-6179527403398812558?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/6179527403398812558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=6179527403398812558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6179527403398812558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6179527403398812558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-have-been-to-barcelona.html' title='I Have Been to Barcelona'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S32VDRZDfvI/AAAAAAAAAGU/5vwLKLp4qzY/s72-c/barcelona2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5648309807580102122</id><published>2010-02-16T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T19:24:24.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When Your Parent Acts Like a Teenager</title><content type='html'>Today would have been my parent's 42nd wedding anniversary.  So, like a good daughter, I've been worried about dad all day long and how he was surviving this day.  So around noon I tried to call him -- no answer on either phone.  Around 2:00, same thing.  Again around 4:00, and 6:00.  Then around 7:30 tonight the calls began in earnest.  I even went so far as to call a family friend who lives in the area to check on him.  Nothing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snap to 9:20 tonight.  I finally call my sister in tears because I can't find dad and I can only imagine bad things at this point and I am THISCLOSE to driving up there to check on him.  My sister tracks him down at the bowling alley of all places (dad is a semi-pro bowler) and they both get a good laugh at my expense because of my worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so NOT FAIR that I'm at that stage in my life where I worry about my teenage daughters when they go out, but that I also worry about my 67 year old father, as well.  When do I get MY freedom???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5648309807580102122?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5648309807580102122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5648309807580102122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5648309807580102122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5648309807580102122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/02/when-your-parent-acts-like-teenager.html' title='When Your Parent Acts Like a Teenager'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3778912878009801451</id><published>2010-01-31T16:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T16:38:46.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Image Brought to You by Sonic!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S2YfSz0b5iI/AAAAAAAAAGM/eXP6LxLPF60/s1600-h/0129101255.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433064408477328930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S2YfSz0b5iI/AAAAAAAAAGM/eXP6LxLPF60/s320/0129101255.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;About two months &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; got her license to drive. She is a VERY cocky and over-confident driver and she knows it all -- doesn't like suggestions or ideas for improvement. So. I offered up a little friendly bet -- if she had a fender bender in the first year then she buys me a week worth of Sonic drinks. If she doesn't, then I pony up the drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut to last Friday. I am sitting in my room around 6:00 in the morning and I hear this odd noise from outside. My first thought was, "Huh, that didn't sound good," but never dreamed it was related to me in any way and I figured if it was the girls, they'd come back in, right? No. About five minutes later the front door opens and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; walks in carrying a license plate, complete with holder and hanging bolts. I don't recognize the plate number right off (just added a new car to our family a few months ago) and so I ask &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, "Hey! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Where'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; you get that plate?" And her terminally &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; response was, "In the driveway." I know that I had a puzzled look on my face because she followed that up with, "But the good news is that no one was hurt?" By this time it had dawned on me that my teen had run over &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;someone's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; car. So I ask the logical question, "Who did she hit?" To which Kelsey replied, "You." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That child had backed right down the driveway without ever looking to see if there was anything behind her and careened right into the front of my jeep. Well, I turned into the typical angry mom once I figured that everyone was okay and ranted and raved a little about being careful and always looking around you and how they needed to LISTEN to us when we give them instruction because we might just KNOW a little something that they don't because of our "seasoned" age and experience. And I knew that I was getting a little out of control, so tried to tame myself down, leaned in and gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, "I would like a Rt. 44 Diet Dr. Pepper, thank you very much!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3778912878009801451?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3778912878009801451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3778912878009801451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3778912878009801451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3778912878009801451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-image-brought-to-you-by-sonic.html' title='This Image Brought to You by Sonic!!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/S2YfSz0b5iI/AAAAAAAAAGM/eXP6LxLPF60/s72-c/0129101255.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-1397998514500638667</id><published>2010-01-21T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T20:09:30.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Delinquency</title><content type='html'>I KNOW my posting is spotty, but life sometimes interferes.  It's been a bad week here at the old casa de seizure.  Kels is on a new anti-depressant and I believe she is having some interaction with it.  I have put a call in to her new psychiatrist and we will see about changing or adjusting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in school right now and one class that I have this semester calls for a live, oral presentation -- subject of our choice.  My choice (of course!) was seizure disorder (got to talk about what you know, right?).  More specifically, depression rates in patients with seizure disorder.  Even though epilepsy is one of the most common neurological disorders, it is very poorly recognized.  People with epilepsy, especially Kels's kind of intractable epilepsy, have a nearly 30% higher rate of depression that any other disease group, including cancer.  Sometimes I believe that all the "extra" things that come with a diagnosis of seizure disorder are much, much worse than the seizures themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's meltdown was bad -- probably one of the worst I've seen in her yet.  Quite frankly, it scares me.  I can deal with the physical part of seizures -- I've dealt with it for years.  Losing my daughter mentally is something that I don't know how to fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-1397998514500638667?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/1397998514500638667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=1397998514500638667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1397998514500638667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1397998514500638667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2010/01/delinquency.html' title='Delinquency'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8322449636136727402</id><published>2009-12-29T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T11:50:31.434-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Christmas Cookie Recipe</title><content type='html'>Jose Cuervo Christmas Cookies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 cup of water&lt;br /&gt;1 tsp baking soda&lt;br /&gt;1 cup of sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 tsp salt&lt;br /&gt;1 cup of brown sugar&lt;br /&gt;4 large eggs&lt;br /&gt;1 cup nuts&lt;br /&gt;2 cups of dried fruit&lt;br /&gt;1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add one peastoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still okay, try another cup just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn off the mixerer thingy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pick the frigging fruit off the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mix on the turner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry it loose with a drewscriver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, sift two cups of salt or something. Who geeves a sheet. Check the Jose Cuervo. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add one table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink... whatever you can find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greash the oven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget to beat off the turner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the wishdasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cherry Mishmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8322449636136727402?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8322449636136727402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8322449636136727402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8322449636136727402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8322449636136727402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-best-christmas-cookie-recipe.html' title='My Best Christmas Cookie Recipe'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-6334179827503696677</id><published>2009-11-30T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T06:49:58.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Burnout</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SxPbfz5MydI/AAAAAAAAAGE/cAkfiFusAyg/s1600/Commute.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409908916954646994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SxPbfz5MydI/AAAAAAAAAGE/cAkfiFusAyg/s320/Commute.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is just one of the many daily reasons I think I need a new career closer to home:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-6334179827503696677?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/6334179827503696677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=6334179827503696677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6334179827503696677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6334179827503696677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/11/burnout.html' title='Burnout'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SxPbfz5MydI/AAAAAAAAAGE/cAkfiFusAyg/s72-c/Commute.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2069131654657437143</id><published>2009-10-15T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T06:35:05.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final One</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Today is Kels’ last high school ARD meeting.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I was mentally going through my schedule in the shower this morning this particular appointment hit me like a ton of bricks and I began to cry.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is a milestone, you know.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were points throughout the last few years where I had serious doubts as to whether or not this beautiful, young woman of mine would get the opportunity to “walk the stage” for her graduation.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh, no doubt – I always envisioned her with a bright and productive future.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Always.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But high school graduation didn’t play a part in it – possibly a GED or an alternative certification.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But a high school diploma?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not likely when the surgeries were coming as fast and furious as the seizures.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or when most of every year of high school has been missed due to health issues associated with a diagnosis of epilepsy such as hers.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In just a few short months, however, my daughter will proudly walk the stage, take her hard-earned diploma and move on to the next stage.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And the final step begins with today’s ARD to ensure that she can stroll proudly to that moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2069131654657437143?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2069131654657437143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2069131654657437143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2069131654657437143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2069131654657437143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/10/final-one.html' title='The Final One'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5457943138381261610</id><published>2009-10-07T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T13:58:59.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Wow – what a long time since my last entry.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So many things have happened.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My mother passed away on September 15.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By the grace of God, I happened to be able to see her the night before and tell her how much I loved her.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By all accounts, I should not have been there – I had no plans to go up, but Dad had mentioned that he was concerned because mom had stopped eating and drinking a couple of days prior.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I told him that I would try to drive up on Monday after work, but Kelsey ended up having a seizure early Monday morning, which meant that we had to drug her up to prevent clusters.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because she was all drugged up, I stayed at home with her on Monday.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When she woke up, I decided that we would drive to see mom and dad; I will forever be grateful for the Spirit that led me to do so.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Once I saw her, I knew that we only had hours left with her, so I badgered my sister into coming to see her since she hadn’t planned on driving up for quite a few weeks.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I very baldly told her that if she wanted to see mom alive again, she needed to come that day.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Long story; short version – we all told mom at some point on Monday that we loved her very very much and that it was okay for her to let go and run to God – that we would miss her, but that she didn’t need to worry about us.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And you know what?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She did.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She let go and she ran with all her might to the One who could heal her and make her whole.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She ran to the One that has to hold us now and comfort us in our loss.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She ran and ran and I believe that as He met her on her journey to Him, she felt good and whole and well for the first time in many many years.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5457943138381261610?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5457943138381261610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5457943138381261610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5457943138381261610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5457943138381261610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/10/mom.html' title='Mom'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-825057920826050087</id><published>2009-08-14T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T18:26:54.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VNS</title><content type='html'>Kels had the VNS placed yesterday.  Today she is very, very sore and in a lot of discomfort.  Just last week our neuro called to see about placing her on a clinical trial for a new drug, but since she is nearly 18 I had to let her help make the call.  You see, she couldn't have the VNS AND do the trial at the same time.  Her decision was to have the VNS; she KNOWS that this is going to work for her.  And I pray to God that it does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-825057920826050087?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/825057920826050087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=825057920826050087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/825057920826050087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/825057920826050087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/08/vns.html' title='VNS'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2682191838100258305</id><published>2009-07-03T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T06:03:30.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Struggles</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I find myself in a place in my spiritual life right now that I am not comfortable with.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While I have never really struggled with my faith, per se, I find myself in a season where I feel so removed from God.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know that He is there; I know that He is continually beside me, but I just don’t feel Him right now.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have long wondered where my gifts are; what am I supposed to be doing for the kingdom?  Why aren't I more fired up?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;This is one of those subjects that I am not comfortable talking about.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were always taught to pray for others, not yourself.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Intercede for those around us, but carry your own cross and handle your own load.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In addition to those old ways of denominational teaching that I just can’t seem to shake, I always feel bad asking for help or prayers on my own behalf because I always feel as though my problems aren’t bad compared to those around me.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;But I’ll share something else – I’m tired.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am mentally worn down and it is affecting me spiritually and physically.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Between worrying about my mother, who probably won’t live to see the end of the year, and my daughter, I'm stretched thin with daily worry.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Combine that with a full-time job, full-time grad school, upcoming legal issues, and just regular day-to-day life being a wife and mother – it gets a little tough emotionally some days.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The thing that bothers me most, though, is having never been in this kind of situation before – I don’t know how to make it better.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How to I regain that closeness?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How do I re-affirm my faith and love for my Father?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I read, I pray, I talk to Him, but my heart just isn’t behind it right this moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2682191838100258305?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2682191838100258305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2682191838100258305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2682191838100258305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2682191838100258305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/07/struggles.html' title='Struggles'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-1478949824159784311</id><published>2009-06-18T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T07:44:53.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Always an Adventure</title><content type='html'>Kels has had some difficulties over the last few months, migraines, increased seizures and auras. Yesterday was her six-month neuro visit and at that point we were told outright that Kels will ALWAYS suffer from seizures. She is one of those few epileptics with intractible seizures that no treatment will work. Out of the four modes of treatment for her (drugs, diet, surgery and the VNS) we are only left with the VNS. Kind of her last, best hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her initial consult with the ENT surgeon that will place the device is Monday.  She is so very hopeful that this will help, and so am I.  It is so hard to watch my child go through this.  She is a young, strong, faithful, beautiful, Christian woman and handles her disorder so well.  She very rarely gets down, doesn't have many pity parties -- just sucks it up and keeps on living.  She is so brave and very much my hero and inspiration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-1478949824159784311?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/1478949824159784311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=1478949824159784311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1478949824159784311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1478949824159784311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-always-adventure.html' title='Not Always an Adventure'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2870579219624734885</id><published>2009-05-01T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T20:54:57.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Week!</title><content type='html'>This week is the TAKS here in Texas.  Not only are we dealing with the multiple outbreaks of swine flu with the resulting school closures, our kiddos are dealing with the TAKS.  Kels is not a great test-taker and she stressed herself into a seizure in the middle of her math TAKS, poor baby.  I don't know if there is a tried and true way to get her to "de-stress" so this doesn't happen.  Let's face it -- life is stressful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On other news, I had a Pampered Chef party this evening.  I began this day with 12 confirmed guests, but ended up with five.   Those things happen.  I know -- I used to be a consultant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's getting late so I'll post more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2870579219624734885?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2870579219624734885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2870579219624734885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2870579219624734885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2870579219624734885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-week.html' title='What a Week!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5418813972833515301</id><published>2009-04-23T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:26:39.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving</title><content type='html'>Kels and Kate both got their permits last week and I know consciously that the only way for them to become good, confident drivers is to drive.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.   Fear.  Of.  Death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I let Kate drive home from school the other day and in-between the bouncing back and forth between the white lines of the lane; the curb checks anytime she turned right (our tires are fine, thank you very much), and the fact that she took out Kels' bike when she parked in the garage -- I wet my pants (although it doesn't take much to accomplish THAT some days).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I let Kels drive around the neighborhood before taking them to driver's ed and she not one time crossed over 15 miles per hour.  She came about six inches from each and every car parked on the street.  But the funniest thing was that every time she would turn a corner, she would take her foot off the gas, brake a little bit and nearly go in reverse for going so slow.  It just killed me.  And the kicker -- the over the top comment?  As she was rounding the corner for home, she took her foot off the gas, coasted v-e-r-y slowly around the curve (about negative 2 miles per hour) and stated, "Wow -- I think I should have slowed down for that one."  Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone pray for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5418813972833515301?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5418813972833515301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5418813972833515301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5418813972833515301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5418813972833515301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/04/driving.html' title='Driving'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-9055271529882829261</id><published>2009-04-22T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T06:16:55.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY 17th BIRTHDAY!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/Se8YJSDM6lI/AAAAAAAAAF8/d-UYshd0Z_w/s1600-h/Kelsey+in+the+Grass.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327503431945742930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/Se8YJSDM6lI/AAAAAAAAAF8/d-UYshd0Z_w/s320/Kelsey+in+the+Grass.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seventeen short years ago I welcomed my precious baby, Kelsey, into this world. After losing my first pregnancy in a very late miscarriage, Kelsey was my own miracle. All of a sudden, I had a little buddy stuck to my right hip (her hip of preference – thank you very much) everywhere we went. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay at home with her for her first two years and I enjoyed it very much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kelsey has overcome so very much in her lifetime that most adults never have to endure. She has proven herself over and over to be such a strong, resilient, child of God – full of hope and anticipation regarding her future. Over the last seventeen years I have laughed with her, laughed at her, worried over her, prayed over her, hurt and wept for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kelsey is not just my daughter, she’s my hero. Happy birthday, baby!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-9055271529882829261?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/9055271529882829261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=9055271529882829261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/9055271529882829261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/9055271529882829261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-17th-birthday.html' title='HAPPY 17th BIRTHDAY!!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/Se8YJSDM6lI/AAAAAAAAAF8/d-UYshd0Z_w/s72-c/Kelsey+in+the+Grass.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5118069901439097824</id><published>2009-02-08T20:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T20:03:35.927-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It’s been a good weekend – not too much drama, not too many emotions and/or hormones running amok, and all the sick ones slowly getting better. We spent the day at church and then cleaning up some at home. I’m gearing up for a long work week, trying to get things ready to be gone for a few days. My work doesn’t stop just because I’m out of the office, it just piles up while I’m gone. My mother-in-law is coming to stay with the girls while we’re gone. LOL – the last time that we had to have the wonderful hub’s grandma stay with us, I ended up with a reorganized kitchen, two new junk drawers (in place of my “lid” drawers) and for some reason, she had cleaned out the pressed flowers and herbs that I had in between some of my cookbooks’ pages. This time, it’ll be my wonderful mother-in-law, who loves these girls to pieces. I doubt very seriously that they’ll even be home often because she likes a good excuse to go out to dinner and shopping. And, of course, my girls oblige her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;School is beginning to kick my butt again. Writing comes pretty easy to me except when I HAVE to write. And writing dry, uninteresting papers on dry, uninteresting subjects is like poking myself in the eyeball with a toothpick. It’s painful to say the least. Gotta go – gotta write – gotta graduate soon. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5118069901439097824?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5118069901439097824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5118069901439097824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5118069901439097824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5118069901439097824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/02/good-weekend.html' title='Good Weekend'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-388175839492547538</id><published>2009-02-07T19:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T19:10:50.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cakes, Cakes and More Cakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;We've got cakes on the brain here at the old casa. I made a three-layer chocolate cake for a friend's birthday party tonight and Kate took advantage of the leftovers to make another zebra pattern cake. The best compliment of all was, "Where did you buy that cake?" LOL. Below is also a picture of my poor baby with bronchitis. She was tolerant of my trying out my new camera on her (captive in my bed).&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300258324051930946" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SY5M3R7sL0I/AAAAAAAAAFk/KSmA4m61Y6I/s320/IMG_0204.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300258332843370770" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SY5M3yru6RI/AAAAAAAAAFs/CKySyeWT1No/s320/IMG_0206.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300258333059630626" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SY5M3zfSxiI/AAAAAAAAAF0/K2mY7hSKEqo/s320/Cambo+Sicko.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-388175839492547538?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/388175839492547538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=388175839492547538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/388175839492547538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/388175839492547538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/02/cakes-cakes-and-more-cakes.html' title='Cakes, Cakes and More Cakes'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SY5M3R7sL0I/AAAAAAAAAFk/KSmA4m61Y6I/s72-c/IMG_0204.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-993708153400320515</id><published>2009-02-02T17:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T17:38:48.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grief and Drama</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yesterday was full of lots of grief and drama. Kels had been in a mood all weekend and yesterday morning before church it all came to a head.  She was vile and nasty.  She said horrible, hurtful things that you expect to come from a teenager.  Except?  We have NEVER heard this kind of stuff from her.  She is usually so very laid back and good-natured.  Until the Keppra, that is.  We begin to wean her off the "Devil-drug" (as we call it) tomorrow.  One of my fears is that she is "altered" from the surgery itself, that taking down the Keppra won't make a difference.  I don't know if I could live with that.  I mean, the surgeries were the worse of two evils.  The possibility of a seizure-free life vs. a life-time of possible side-effects.  Being a parent is too hard sometimes.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-993708153400320515?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/993708153400320515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=993708153400320515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/993708153400320515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/993708153400320515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/02/grief-and-drama.html' title='Grief and Drama'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2019006820060336390</id><published>2009-01-31T12:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T12:11:33.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>I&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;t's been a long time since the last update. I got a new digital camera this week (a Canon Powershot SX110 IS) and while it's not top of the line, it's MORE than enough for my use. One, of which, is taking pictures of Kate and my new venture – cake decorating classes! While I do a lot of cooking and baking, my decorating skills suck pickles. My initial efforts looked like a 5-year old with severe nearsightedness was let loose with a piping tip. LOL. We just finished Level 1 classes and Level 2 classes begin next week. This is not just fun, but good bonding time with my wonderful daughter. &lt;div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 281px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297552413473511698" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SYSv2jgaGRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/-ca_bhuoGIA/s320/Doberge+Torte.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297552410253530994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SYSv2XgtF3I/AAAAAAAAAE0/U9wyLIISvtY/s320/Ashley+Bday+copy.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;The wonderful hubby and I leave in two weeks for our annual anniversary weekend away. We always stay at this great little B&amp;amp;B that is outside of the city limits and in the country area. It's secluded and beautiful and always very restful. I can't wait!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also went back to school this month. I went on a leave of absence when Kels had her surgeries and figured it was time to begin again. I should finish up in March 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to try to be much much better about updating this more regularly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2019006820060336390?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2019006820060336390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2019006820060336390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2019006820060336390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2019006820060336390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2009/01/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SYSv2jgaGRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/-ca_bhuoGIA/s72-c/Doberge+Torte.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-4125916259769417928</id><published>2008-12-22T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T18:49:34.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Six-Month Neuro Check-Up</title><content type='html'>Kels had her six-month post-surgery check up today and it went very well.  Her EEG showed no seizure activity at all, which is great!  And her neuro discussed changing her from Keppra since Kels is so vehemently opposed to taking (as evidenced by her personal choice to discontinue her meds a few weeks ago!!).  The new drug is Lyrica and it’s supposed to be well tolerated.  Kel is excited to finally be off the Keppra that she nearly floated out of the neuro’s office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t mind saying that I’m a little nervous about changing meds, since the Keppra (in addition to the surgery) has been the first time in a very long time that we’ve have seizure control.  I know that the game is different post-surgery, however it’s just hard to forget the years and years of medication failures.  I am praying that this will work for her with few side-effects.  Her neuro says that one of the most common effects is supposed to be some weight gain, but at 113 pounds, I’m not really concerned about that for her right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls are out of school now for the holidays.  They were supposed to go to their father’s for Christmas, but didn’t want to.  They chose to stay here for Christmas and then go over there for the weekend after, however, he didn’t care for that and was extremely vocal with them about it.  After some heated discussion with them on the phone one night last week it was passed to me and I got the attitude.  He told me that they had no choice in the matter, they HAD to come.  I very calmly told him that he was mistaken – they DID have a choice.  I told him that we always encourage them to see him when it’s his visitation, but that we don’t force them.  He then claimed that there were plans that he had made for them for Christmas that they just didn’t understand.  I asked him if he told them what those plans were (he is notorious for not telling them what’s going on) and he said no.  So I asked him to share with me what the plans were and that I would let them know and encourage them to go.  At which point he told me that it was none of my business.  Yes, I said, it is my business if he would like for me to talk to them and encourage them to visit.   His response was that it wasn’t their business either and that he wasn’t “getting into a pissing match” with me (???) and hung up on me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes trying to be fair and do the right thing is just too hard some days.  Geez.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-4125916259769417928?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/4125916259769417928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=4125916259769417928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4125916259769417928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4125916259769417928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/12/six-month-neuro-check-up.html' title='Six-Month Neuro Check-Up'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8697263134243366414</id><published>2008-12-14T16:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T16:07:19.898-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow In Texas!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I'm nearly 40 years old and a native Houstonian. I've only seen snow a handful of times in whole life (and a couple of those I flew north to see it!). So when it snowed this past week, I made sure that the girls were up to see and play in it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 376px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279800798829054370" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SUWe2lsHiaI/AAAAAAAAAEs/1NCzFsZLzJA/s400/DSCN0516.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 370px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279800781490511506" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SUWe1lGSXpI/AAAAAAAAAEk/uDAxXfnDWys/s400/DSCN0514.JPG" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8697263134243366414?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8697263134243366414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8697263134243366414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8697263134243366414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8697263134243366414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/12/snow-in-texas.html' title='Snow In Texas!!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SUWe2lsHiaI/AAAAAAAAAEs/1NCzFsZLzJA/s72-c/DSCN0516.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7723448317547034424</id><published>2008-11-16T18:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T18:58:43.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons Learned</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, as you know we've been on seizure watch here at the ole' casa.  There have been no more seizures since Wednesday, however, there have been frequent auras, which are little seizures in and of themselves.  It's been a hard lesson for Kels, but one that I think she's learned well.  The paralysis lasted nearly two days and because she bit her tongue all to pieces, it's been hard for her to talk and eat.  I hate that she is suffering, but maybe it was for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We're waiting to see that the meds get control again – seizures, auras, and all.  If there's no control, then I can up her meds a little to gain it.  She's been requesting that we keep the baby monitor on at night for just in case.  And if Kels wants it, then we do it.  She missed school last Thursday and Friday and as a result, lost a binder and a book in the shuffle from the classroom to the nurses' office so she's behind some in her classes.  She was on the prayer list at church and there were tons of people asking about her this morning.  She nearly bugged out of going to church because she knew she'd have to face people, but she did well answering their well wishes and how are you feelings.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been a long week.  Next will be better, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7723448317547034424?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7723448317547034424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7723448317547034424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7723448317547034424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7723448317547034424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/lessons-learned.html' title='Lessons Learned'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-913024189514249140</id><published>2008-11-13T18:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T18:19:47.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our New Family Motto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRzgJGTfblI/AAAAAAAAADw/f-vGLw_ZRcg/s1600-h/No+Seizures.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 207px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268332111032446546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRzgJGTfblI/AAAAAAAAADw/f-vGLw_ZRcg/s400/No+Seizures.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRzfW82cReI/AAAAAAAAADo/J_dEYg8J3ZU/s1600-h/No+Seizures.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-913024189514249140?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/913024189514249140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=913024189514249140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/913024189514249140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/913024189514249140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title='Our New Family Motto'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRzgJGTfblI/AAAAAAAAADw/f-vGLw_ZRcg/s72-c/No+Seizures.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-9008957743082104717</id><published>2008-11-13T18:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T18:05:23.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason for the Seizure Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;I took Kels to the doctor this morning to rule out any infection that might have caused the seizures yesterday.  Nothing.  She has an acute case of sinusitis (as always – she is the allergy QUEEN!) but nothing else.  We had some prescriptions for other meds to drop off, so while I was at the pharmacy, I asked for a print-out of all of Kels' meds from June so that I could update the copay sheet for the ex.  I noticed with only half of my attention that the last time we refilled her Keppra was October 11.  Huh.  Today is November 13.  And I remembered seeing plenty of pills still in the bottle at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I didn't say anything to her at the time, but when we got home I went and counted the meds left over and there was well over a week's worth.  So I asked her again (because we just went through this yesterday when trying to find a reason for the seizures after six months of none) if she had forgotten or skipped any pills.  This time she admitted to missing a couple of morning doses when she was running late and didn't want to go back to the house and miss the bus.  So I pointed out that there was more than a couple of morning's doses left in the bottle.  And then I asked the question that really brought out the reason for the seizures.  I asked her if she stopped taking the Keppra on purpose because of the side effects and she started crying and said, "Yes."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There you go.  I didn't fuss at her too much because I can totally understand her reasoning.  She doesn't like who she is on Keppra.  She doesn't like the mood swings or the irritability or the altered personality.  I can understand that.  She also went on to tell me that she thought the epilepsy was gone because she "didn't feel it anymore."  Again, I can understand that mentality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I did, however, point out that she didn't feel the seizures because for once in her life the medicine was controlling them.  Not that they were gone, but that the meds were working.  I also took the opportunity to ask her if being a more agreeable person over the last couple of weeks was worth the last two days (and future few days) of unstable seizures, muscle soreness, and an altered routine.  And she said no.  I told her that she was nearly an adult and that she needed to help take responsibility for her health and that included making sure that she took the meds that regulated this disease.  Not until she began to feel better, but to maintain her good health.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then I went to my room and cried for her, because this is her struggle.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-9008957743082104717?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/9008957743082104717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=9008957743082104717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/9008957743082104717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/9008957743082104717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/reason-for-seizure-season.html' title='Reason for the Seizure Season'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-279705791839580051</id><published>2008-11-12T17:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T17:00:05.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seizures :(</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;I got a call from the nurse at the high school today.  Kels had a seizure in the middle of her advisory class.  From the sound of it, it was a doozy, too.  So I drove like a maniac to get there.  As soon as she saw me she began to cry and said, "I thought I was done with this."  It broke my heart.  My heart wanted this to be her cure.  I knew that it wouldn't be, but I wanted it for her.  We knew going in that the surgery would improve her quality of life, but most likely would not eradicate all seizures.  And it HAS improved her quality of life.  She went six months without a seizure.  Six months.  Beforehand she would have trouble some days going six hours.  My conscious brain knows that this was for her benefit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My mom's heart, though?  It breaks for my baby.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-279705791839580051?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/279705791839580051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=279705791839580051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/279705791839580051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/279705791839580051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/seizures.html' title='Seizures :('/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3699250232236605465</id><published>2008-11-11T17:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T17:30:17.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough?</title><content type='html'>When do we become "enough"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty enough, thin enough, good enough, etc?  I have struggled with this in some capacity my whole life.  Sometimes this struggle has hit me pretty severely.  At one point, the anxiety related to this crippled me so badly that I sought counseling at the urging of my wonderful husband because it was affecting our brand new marriage.  I couldn’t go out in public with my handsome husband because I was constantly comparing myself to those women around us who had the gall to eyeball him in front of me.  And of course, I wasn’t enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All growing up, I always heard that whatever I had earned, made, won, (insert word of your choice here) wasn’t enough.  I could do better!  I was an honors student all the way through school, top ¼ of my class all the way through college.  But you know what?  It wasn’t enough.  My “A” could have been an “A+”.  Simply being good at whatever my chosen sport was wasn’t enough.  If I played, I had to play to win.    Games weren’t just for fun; they were tough competition (see play to win comment).  I remember being told that no matter how good I was at something, there was always someone around the bend waiting to take me down, who was better thanme.  And then, when I finally left home and married and got out to where I could find myself as an adult, I married a controlling man who told me I wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t thin enough, pretty enough, blonde enough (I could quote quite a few hurtful and abusive things that had been said to me over the thirteen years of that marriage) and as a result, the permanence of my insecurity was born. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Christian woman, I know that our value is not found through the eyes of others, but through the eyes of God.  He created us, we are enough for Him.  My Christian mind knows this; my worldly mind doesn’t.  Our pastor delivered a great sermon this past Sunday on this very topic, using the Song of Solomon as his background.  While we’ve been taught that particular book teaches us how a marriage should be, the pastor came at it from a different direction – as the bride of Christ, this is how He loves us and thinks of us.  Our wrinkles and our rolls don’t matter to Him.  He loves us no matter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how do we equate that to living in the day-to-day world?  How do those Christian women around me get such a better handle on this than I can ever seem to?  Why can’t I get past this particular struggle?  Why, at the age of nearly 40, can’t I find comfort and security in my own skin?  At times, it’s an issue that affects my marriage and, even though I strive for it not to, my girls.  I DO NOT want my young women to grow up with this kind of mental anguish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a wonderful man who loves me for who I am, not what I “could” be.  I have three beautiful, young, Christian women.  I have a great life.  I have a great God that oversees it all.  So tell me, when will I feel like I’m enough?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3699250232236605465?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3699250232236605465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3699250232236605465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3699250232236605465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3699250232236605465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/enough.html' title='Enough?'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3325065055876830514</id><published>2008-11-04T17:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T17:51:18.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts, Beauty, and Pirates</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRD7sZ13ISI/AAAAAAAAADY/trIUuNQGoXw/s1600-h/DSCN0500.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264984704665723170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRD7sZ13ISI/AAAAAAAAADY/trIUuNQGoXw/s320/DSCN0500.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm sitting here watching my wonderful hubby browse through each and every station getting the latest election coverage. Personally, I don't really care who wins. I did vote; I did my civic duty; I cast my vote for who I thought to be the lesser of two evils. That being said – the state of my life doesn't hinge upon who sits in the Oval Office. My tomorrow will look the same as my today, no matter who wins because my life is governed by a higher power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This past weekend was not only Halloween, but it was Homecoming for my girls' high school. Only Kate went this year. She was beautiful! As a mom, sometimes I am so proud of my girls for no other reason than they live and breathe. Sometimes I am proud of what young ladies they are turning into. And sometimes, like this weekend, I am proud that they are beautiful on top of everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRD75m67fYI/AAAAAAAAADg/niwj1Zwvmrk/s1600-h/Halloween+089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264984931514940802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRD75m67fYI/AAAAAAAAADg/niwj1Zwvmrk/s320/Halloween+089.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The other two went trick or treating around the neighborhood. One as a renaissance princess and the other as a pirate. LOL. A pirate who isn't used to wearing dresses and kept hitching up her drawers all night long. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3325065055876830514?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3325065055876830514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3325065055876830514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3325065055876830514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3325065055876830514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/11/thoughts-beauty-and-pirates.html' title='Thoughts, Beauty, and Pirates'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SRD7sZ13ISI/AAAAAAAAADY/trIUuNQGoXw/s72-c/DSCN0500.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2381601444038023874</id><published>2008-10-24T13:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T13:52:53.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1000 Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SQI1nbbe_hI/AAAAAAAAADQ/WiSZ2PZvqqs/s1600-h/1024081400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260826266216365586" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SQI1nbbe_hI/AAAAAAAAADQ/WiSZ2PZvqqs/s320/1024081400.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2381601444038023874?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2381601444038023874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2381601444038023874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2381601444038023874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2381601444038023874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/10/1000-words.html' title='1000 Words'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SQI1nbbe_hI/AAAAAAAAADQ/WiSZ2PZvqqs/s72-c/1024081400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8511206493482996625</id><published>2008-10-22T17:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T17:52:37.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding the Roads</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kate has been strongly hinting (okay, outright begging and pleading) for Driver's Ed classes.  She's 15 and itching to be mobile.  I have never personally been in the car with her, but my wonderful hubby and my dad have let her drive a few times in controlled situations.  So last night, as we are pulling to our driveway, she asks if she can drive me around the block.  Taking both of us totally by surprise, I said okay, pulled over and let her behind the wheel.  This is when hilarity ensued. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;First, she took at least 2-3 minutes to very carefully adjust her seat.  And the mirror.  And the seat again.  Then the side mirror.  Then she looked at me expectantly and I said, "Wagons Ho!!"  I got the withering teenage look for my trouble and we were off.  At 5 miles an hour.  On the left hand side of the road.  I laughed a little and told her she should probably get back on the right side and she willingly obliged.  As we came to the "U" part of our street, we saw one of our neighbors standing in the road talking to another neighbor.  As we're creeping around the curve (3 miles an hour for the turn), I plaster my face to the passenger side window, mouth "help me" and start beating my chest.  They are laughing so hard that even Kate begins to laugh.  We get all the way around to the entrance of our driveway again and I had her stop and told her to turn on her left turn signal.  At that point she panics a little and says, "Oh, I don't know how to do that," and I tell her to just push the little stick on the left side of the wheel.  So she begins to switch the stick up and down and up and down to make it blink.  At that I totally lost it and began to laugh hysterically.  I told her that these new-fangled blinkers were automatic and she only had to push it down once for it to blink.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I told her she could go around one more time and so she increased her speed to nearly 10 miles per hour (woo doggies!!) and as we get the curve again, Mr. Neighbors are grinning and ready for us.  In unison, they take a HUGE step off the road into the lawn and cover their eyes.  It was the funniest thing I have ever seen.  We made it safely home where Kate declared that it was fun driving with me, more than she expected.   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8511206493482996625?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8511206493482996625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8511206493482996625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8511206493482996625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8511206493482996625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/10/riding-roads.html' title='Riding the Roads'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5847051445494532531</id><published>2008-10-19T18:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T18:24:32.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Tired</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think the allergies combined with the frantic pace of daily life have finally gotten to me.  Today I've been tired to the point of exhaustion.  All I want to do is lay down and sleep.  I knew it was bad when I snapped at Cam for telling me how to do something on the computer.  LOL.  I live with a techno-nerd who is a computer specialist by trade and for fun and he is always telling me how to do things.  So when the 8-year old did, I guess I snapped.  To be fair, though, Cam is so very smart that sometimes I forget that she is only 8 and that 8 year old know EVERYTHING!!!  Always!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm hoping that this week is a little better week at work and not so stressed.  Kate has training only on Tuesday and Thursday, so there's not going to be a lot of after school running around (I hope!).  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5847051445494532531?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5847051445494532531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5847051445494532531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5847051445494532531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5847051445494532531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/10/totally-tired.html' title='Totally Tired'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7447392051223279329</id><published>2008-10-18T19:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T19:59:20.302-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Fought the Good Fight…</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;…but tonight I had to suck it up and do something that I've been putting off for months. I had to buy some reading glasses. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258694128885046434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SPqics6gHKI/AAAAAAAAADA/IwQkWMHqJgA/s320/3_34.jpg" /&gt;I didn't want to – it's one of those signs of aging that I fought as long as I could. But my arms just aren't long enough anymore. I had my two youngest help me pick out some that they said were cute and not too "middle aged" looking. I don't really hate aging; I hate the SIGNS of aging. The gray hairs, the wrinkles, and now – the reading glasses. I've said for years that aging is unfair between the sexes. As men age they get distinguished. As women age, we get old. The funny thing is is that I don't FEEL older most days. If I had to put a number on how old I feel, it would probably be 25. LOL. If I had to put a number on how old I look, it would be 40. Mentally I stopped aging a long time ago. Physically, I look like a middle-aged woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I guess if our society wasn't so obsessed with youth and looking perfect then it wouldn't matter so much. I really struggle with this. I KNOW that I shouldn't judge myself by society's standards, but my subconscious doesn't always agree with that. As a woman, and especially as a former fat woman, I always feel like I just don't quite measure up. I don't know how to counter that sometimes. Any opinions and suggestions are welcome.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7447392051223279329?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7447392051223279329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7447392051223279329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7447392051223279329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7447392051223279329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-fought-good-fight.html' title='I Fought the Good Fight…'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SPqics6gHKI/AAAAAAAAADA/IwQkWMHqJgA/s72-c/3_34.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-1292068040006464928</id><published>2008-10-15T18:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T18:32:48.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oct. 15, 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SPaZtOcFnkI/AAAAAAAAAC4/26o7CAYHvz8/s1600-h/1224061442a%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257558617250700866" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SPaZtOcFnkI/AAAAAAAAAC4/26o7CAYHvz8/s320/1224061442a%5B1%5D.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;A couple of days ago I was getting ready for work and putting on my makeup when I hear this little voice from over the banister say, "Mommy, I have to tell you something." So I look up and there was Cam peering down at me. She tells me that she got up really early because she thought we were running late. So she got dressed, came downstairs and ate breakfast and then started watching TV waiting for us to come out of our room. She said when she turned the TV on, she saw that it was midnight, so she went back to bed. And slept in her school uniform since she was already dressed. So her question was could she still wear the uniform since she only slept in it for a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kels has been over five months now without a seizure. She still does occasionally get auras, but she says she can tell that they won't go into a seizure. I don't know how she can tell the difference, but I'm glad that she can. The Keppra still gives her the irritated, aggressive nature that just isn't her, but we will address that when we go back to the neurologist in December for her routine follow-up. She goes from being the laid-back and generally easy kid to what we call "Satan's sister" in the blink of an eye. It's hard to deal with sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We went to Miami two weekends ago for hubby's birthday to meet the rest of his family. His sister found him after over 30 years of no contact and for his birthday, she and her husband paid for the flights for he and I to go and meet an entire village it seemed of relatives – cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. It was almost like watching the prodigal son parable unfold in real life. It was fun, educational, and entertaining. The culture differences didn't seem to matter at all (hubby is ½ Hispanic and ½ Columbian – I am 100% Texas white-girl). I jokingly call my Tex-Mex Spanish "Pig-Spanglish" and I pulled more Spanish out of my memory that I remember learning. LOL. I'll try to post some pictures from the weekend later on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-1292068040006464928?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/1292068040006464928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=1292068040006464928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1292068040006464928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/1292068040006464928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/10/oct-15-2007.html' title='Oct. 15, 2007'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SPaZtOcFnkI/AAAAAAAAAC4/26o7CAYHvz8/s72-c/1224061442a%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-4798417670918360305</id><published>2008-09-29T18:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:09:10.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Ike Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJ9NUsSNI/AAAAAAAAACw/bT1PxwSY2CI/s1600-h/Homebound+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251630325132183762" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJ9NUsSNI/AAAAAAAAACw/bT1PxwSY2CI/s320/Homebound+011.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Our Lassie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJy0fqaBI/AAAAAAAAACo/XP_oqOTktbE/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+122.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251630146668619794" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJy0fqaBI/AAAAAAAAACo/XP_oqOTktbE/s320/Hurricane+Ike+122.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Snapped Stop Sign&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJVAgokKI/AAAAAAAAACg/hGbwLadUbSU/s1600-h/0929080653a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251629634497843362" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJVAgokKI/AAAAAAAAACg/hGbwLadUbSU/s320/0929080653a.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My new commute&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJAt1BGzI/AAAAAAAAACQ/qj9K73nAQDE/s1600-h/0915080922b.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJA5kFgUI/AAAAAAAAACY/o-l5uwepZXU/s1600-h/0915080922b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251629289035891010" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJA5kFgUI/AAAAAAAAACY/o-l5uwepZXU/s320/0915080922b.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Community Breakfast (no power for 13 days)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I neglected to mention yesterday that the wonderful hubby had to go get a tetanus shot because as we were working in the back yard trying to string up a temporary fence to keep our dog in the yard, he stepped on an extremely rusty nail embedded in a piece of wood. He was okay, but he claims the shot hurts worse (even a day later) than the nail did. While he was at the urgent care waiting an hour for a 15 second shot, I finished piecing together some hogwire across the downed fence to keep the neighbor's Cujo in their yard and our Lassie in ours.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-4798417670918360305?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/4798417670918360305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=4798417670918360305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4798417670918360305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/4798417670918360305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-ike-pictures.html' title='More Ike Pictures'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOGJ9NUsSNI/AAAAAAAAACw/bT1PxwSY2CI/s72-c/Homebound+011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5312332246028568060</id><published>2008-09-28T19:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T19:36:52.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life after Ike</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-4rSeaxI/AAAAAAAAABo/kTfWDeEizV8/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251266308927810322" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-4rSeaxI/AAAAAAAAABo/kTfWDeEizV8/s320/Hurricane+Ike+036.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-4wltzzI/AAAAAAAAABw/cs-J0t-ZrFk/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+148.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251266310350688050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-4wltzzI/AAAAAAAAABw/cs-J0t-ZrFk/s320/Hurricane+Ike+148.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5VSWR4I/AAAAAAAAAB4/Kp3Mt_JFvh8/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+048.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251266320201566082" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5VSWR4I/AAAAAAAAAB4/Kp3Mt_JFvh8/s320/Hurricane+Ike+048.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5Wi4l5I/AAAAAAAAACA/fRzu4oTaE9E/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251266320539359122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5Wi4l5I/AAAAAAAAACA/fRzu4oTaE9E/s320/Hurricane+Ike+159.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5mEFavI/AAAAAAAAACI/5NLm-4K77mE/s1600-h/Hurricane+Ike+166.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251266324705143538" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-5mEFavI/AAAAAAAAACI/5NLm-4K77mE/s320/Hurricane+Ike+166.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been a long two weeks. Hurricane Ike swept through here two weeks ago and wreaked havoc on our area. We fared alright – we have our electricity back on after 13 days and life is beginning to feel normal once again. Our home came through okay, however, the top 60 feet of a nearly 120 foot oak tree in our back yard took down part of our garage and back yard. Still, we are so very blessed as it is nothing that cannot be fixed and our insurance will cover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;That Friday night we set the girls up in the great room since we are prone to losing trees in serious storms and we didn't want them upstairs just in case. I don't think my wonderful hubby and I slept a wink all night long. The winds and rain began late Friday afternoon and by about midnight, it was getting pretty serious. We kept hearing large branches hit the roof and each and every time we would run upstairs to make sure there were no leaks or damage. At some points we could literally feel the roof lift a little and the pressure inside the house change. At 3:30 we heard an extremely loud "crack", but nothing else. A little before 4:00 am we heard a whistling sound and then the very foundation of our home shook and vibrated. We rushed to take a look out of the back windows, but all we could see was tree. One of our very tall and magnificent oak trees was now our back yard. It had come down on the garage wall and roof and had taken out our back fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The funny thing about that is that we had parked our one and only car inside the garage to keep it safe. LOL. We NEVER park in the garage; however, we figured that since we had just the one vehicle, we should move it indoors. God was watching for us, though, because the roof caved in, but didn't come quite close to the roof. We did have one casualty – our big chest freezer that was against that wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Even funnier is that the girls – who are normally afraid of regular thunderstorms – slept through the entire hurricane. They never heard any of the limbs hitting the roof an they never felt the tree hit the back yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the light of day, our neighborhood looked like a war zone. Nothing compared to Galveston and other coastal communities, but still – it was pretty desolate. It took 13 days for us to get our electricity back on. During that time we lived outside during the day and ran the generator at night for the fan. Community meals became the norm and the pull of solidarity was strong. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5312332246028568060?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5312332246028568060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5312332246028568060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5312332246028568060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5312332246028568060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/09/life-after-ike.html' title='Life after Ike'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SOA-4rSeaxI/AAAAAAAAABo/kTfWDeEizV8/s72-c/Hurricane+Ike+036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3639229488396942737</id><published>2008-09-01T17:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T17:31:06.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9/1/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been quite a while since I updated last.  School has begun (Thank You, God!!) and all the girls have made it through the first week.  This next week life gets back into what we hope with be our normal routine again.  Since Kelsey's surgeries in May, the wonderful hubby and I have been working flex/remote hours at work so that she is not home alone and let me tell you, that makes for L-O-N-G days.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kelsey is back in school, as well, and she is glad to be back.  We figured out that she's been out of school essentially since January of last year – first due to all her absences and then from being placed on homebound instruction.  For a teenage girl – that's a rough time.  She is doing wonderfully, though, with no seizures in nearly three months.  Right after surgery she began to get severe headaches, but those are resolving as well.  At her last neuro check-up, her doc said that she will essentially always have epilepsy since they were unable to remove all the parts that were causing the seizures.  The important difference now, however, is that we have control.  Control with just ONE medication instead of four.  Control with no seizures in-between.  Control.  What a wonderful word, right?  If she maintains control as well as she has been, then her quality of life has improved 1000%.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kaitlin is an athletic trainer this year and rotates through all the sports, however, it's high-school football time in Texas and that means that her primary sport right now is football.   She's enjoying it and has really taken to it.  Cam is Cam.  &amp;lt;smile&amp;gt;.  She's a good kid and too smart for her age.  Her private school combines the 4&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; and 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; grades so this year she'll get a little higher scholastic interaction, which is something that she needs in my opinion, to continue to challenge her and force her to grow.  She is so very intelligent that she sometimes stagnates on her grade-level work.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life is good and God is great.  I am so glad that we are on an even keel for now.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3639229488396942737?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3639229488396942737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3639229488396942737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3639229488396942737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3639229488396942737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/09/9108.html' title='9/1/08'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8676715617580073392</id><published>2008-06-08T21:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T17:34:01.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama, Drama, and Hey – Guess What?  More Drama!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;I guess in a house full of girls I should expect nothing less. #3 is going to church camp on Wednesday and won't be back until Saturday afternoon. She's fine with going, but that piece of drama involves getting my dad to take her up to the church on Wednesday in time for the bus to pick them up. We were raised conservative, old school, Church of Christ and I left the denomination a few years ago – our home church is a Bible-based, non-denom and my dad is one of those that believes you can't be any religion other than CofC and that it's the only church mentioned in the Bible and therefore our church isn't really a church. All well and good except that dad doesn't hold that opinion to himself and mentions that fact to my girls every chance he gets, which makes them uncomfortable and question me in detail each and every time. No one is really worried about Wednesday except for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#2 has some drama issues regarding her natural father and their upcoming visitation, which is supposed to begin this Sunday and go on for two weeks. She doesn't like going over there all too often and really only visits out of sense of duty towards #3 (keeping an eye on her, I suppose), but she's old enough to decide for herself whether or not she wants to go. Well, she doesn't want to go and she told him so this evening and he seemed okay with it, but it took days of her worrying over it and asking my hubby and I constantly what to tell him, what words should she say, etc. He has a habit of trying to "guilt" the girls into going when they don't want to, and when that fails, bribing them with stuff to do. The last time he tried that, he told them for two weeks that he had "special tickets" to some event, but would never tell them what – that it was a surprise, so all three went – even #1 – and they did nothing all weekend. He claimed that he ended up not being able to get the tickets to whatever it was. So anyway, needless to say, she was a little anxious about telling him she didn't want to go. And sure enough, he tried to tell her that it was okay except that now he had no one to watch #3 and that he would have to try to switch things around. We kept telling her to be strong when she spoke with him and for once, she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#1 – what can I say except that I am sooooo glad not to have to be a 16-year old girl ever again. She came to me a few days ago in tears and told me that she really still liked her old boyfriend and that she wanted to get back together with him when he had asked her a few weeks ago, but she told him no. I asked her if she had felt that way, why did she say no and her response was that she didn't think it was fair to put him through the uncertainty of her surgery and what she might have ended up like. Whew. Heavy stuff, right? So in my mom's wisdom, I told her that it was never too late, that he really liked her and that if she felt that strongly about it then she should tell him. Well, that's when the extra-super drama began because he didn't return her texts, phone calls went to voice mail and there were no return calls for two days. Well, we know this boy and his family fairly well and I just couldn't believe that he would blow her off, so we drove by his house this afternoon after church and she left a note on his door to give her a call. So tonight, his mom texted her back to let her know that his phone was dead and that he was at band camp and wouldn't be home until next Sun. There was such a look of relief on her face when she came downstairs to show me the text that I couldn't help but be relieved for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life is sure fun some days – but never, ever boring.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8676715617580073392?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8676715617580073392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8676715617580073392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8676715617580073392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8676715617580073392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/06/drama-drama-and-hey-guess-what-more.html' title='Drama, Drama, and Hey – Guess What?  More Drama!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8228151323898132481</id><published>2008-05-29T09:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T09:28:04.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update and Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YMBt3-gI/AAAAAAAAABA/wBx2bAwbhDE/s1600-h/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205835920417749506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YMBt3-gI/AAAAAAAAABA/wBx2bAwbhDE/s200/002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The grid placement (the wires are attached to the electrodes on the grid on her brain)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YMht3-hI/AAAAAAAAABI/kq3ra5Se_KA/s1600-h/006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205835929007684114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YMht3-hI/AAAAAAAAABI/kq3ra5Se_KA/s200/006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The incision for both the grid and subsequent resection (much larger than we expected)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YNRt3-iI/AAAAAAAAABQ/EgDmc54FiHA/s1600-h/operation+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205835941892586018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YNRt3-iI/AAAAAAAAABQ/EgDmc54FiHA/s200/operation+008.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yeah!  First official walk with the Physical Therapist (she gets that keen fashion sense from me, BTW)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YOht3-kI/AAAAAAAAABg/SenM4M31IWI/s1600-h/Haircut+and+a+Shave+037.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205835963367422530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YOht3-kI/AAAAAAAAABg/SenM4M31IWI/s200/Haircut+and+a+Shave+037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My baby lost half her hair from the surgery; she decided to shave the rest so it would grow evenly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The homebound instructor is here and he and #1 are wrapping up the end of the school year. It looks as though she will pass these two subjects (there are two instructors – one for math and science, one for English and history), even though math will be by the seat of her pants. This year though, that's good enough. At least she won't enter her junior year a half semester behind. We finally heard from the rehab facility yesterday and she is set to begin the week after next, so by the time marching band begins late July/early August, she will physically be ready to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Seizure-wise, she hasn't had any seizure activity for a week now. I think that's absolutely incredible. She's sleeping much much better compared to before surgery. I can't remember if I said before, but the medications were never stopping the seizure activity on the brain, so she could never "shut off" at night to sleep. In addition to that, the seizures were tied in some way to her sleep patterns, so the majority of them would occur at night. According to her report, she's sleeping deeper, better, and waking up more refreshed. Her two-week post-op with her neurosurgeon was Tuesday and he was thrilled with her progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For the first time in quite a few years I can look forward in her life and see a future that is wide open. It's way too soon to tell yet, but even if she does require minimal meds to continue to retain medical control, it won't impact her life like it would have beforehand. I can envision her future and it doesn't revolve around the epilepsy. Wow. What a concept, right? I guess our goal now is for her to learn how to be a normal teenager and for me to learn to be a normal mom. I can't even imagine it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8228151323898132481?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8228151323898132481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8228151323898132481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8228151323898132481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8228151323898132481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/05/52908.html' title='Update and Pictures'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/SD7YMBt3-gI/AAAAAAAAABA/wBx2bAwbhDE/s72-c/002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7165278349577452072</id><published>2008-05-26T21:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T21:00:24.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5/26/08 Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been about 2 and a half weeks since #1's 2&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; surgery and she's doing great.  Because of the continued residual seizures, her neurologist decided to minimally up her dosage of Keppra and since then, she's had really no seizure activity to speak of.  What she does have is a rip-roaring case of the "poor me" due to her hair loss.  We ended up shaving her head because the surgeon shaved literally half of it off (and it was about 2 foot long to begin with).  She looks like a young Sinead O'Connor.  The shaved head only emphasizes how petite she is and how fine her bone structure is.  She, however, can only mourn for the loss of her hair and it is making her horrible to live with.  Physically she is feeling fine (although a little physically tired now and then – that's expected).  We have taken her out a couple of times – once for lunch, once to a movie, and once to her little sister's awards ceremony.  Each time it's been a battle to get her out, and she will admit that it is because she's self-conscious about her ultra-short hair.  There have been times over the last week that I know I'd enjoy poking myself in the eyeball with a toothpick more than going anywhere with her.  She won't even begin to think about a cover-up, a hat, or anything else.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We tentatively began her homebound instruction again this past Thursday and she did great.  She has a real possibility of being able to finish out the year with no detriment to her scholastically.  Math, however, continues to be her Achilles' heel, but if she applies herself for the next 2 weeks then she will even complete that course on time and with a passing grade.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am having some difficulty getting her Physical and Occupational Therapy scheduled, since all the places that we've been referred to all agree that she needs to be seen sooner rather than later, however, none of them are able to fit her into their current caseload.  I'm going to begin calling again tomorrow to see how soon we can get her in.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7165278349577452072?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7165278349577452072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7165278349577452072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7165278349577452072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7165278349577452072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/05/52608-update.html' title='5/26/08 Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5078335169859898875</id><published>2008-05-18T22:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T22:22:08.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recovery</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:Arial; font-size:10pt'&gt;#1 came through the second surgery absolutely fine.  Her resection began late Thursday afternoon (May 8) and lasted only five hours, which was much better than the eight hour time frame they gave us.  The surgeon was hopeful that even though they could not remove each spot that seizure activity begins from, they got the two largest areas and he is positive that even if she still has some residual seizure activity it will be much better controlled and that we have improved her chances for a better quality of life.  As it stands now, she went into this taking four different anti-seizure medications and is currently only on one.  Woo!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:Arial; font-size:10pt'&gt;The even better news is that since the day after her second surgery, she has been consistently awake, coherent, and cognizant.  As a result, we have a much better idea of her functioning.  The physicians expected her to lose some peripheral vision, however, she has all of her peripheral, it's just a little "off" and it is believe that it will resolve itself over a few weeks' time.  Additionally, they expected her to need significant physical therapy due to a loss of left-side function, but she has been up and walking and working with the in-house physical therapy team and they have only deemed it necessary to order light PT/OT on an out-patient basis due to a small lack of coordination, not gross loss of function.  She has had four seizures since coming out of the resection surgery, however, her neurology team has assured us that this is normal under the circumstances and is in no way an indicator of a lack of success of the procedure.  She could actually have seizures for nearly 3-4 weeks afterwards, but due to the surgery itself and not the epilepsy.  We have also noticed that the tone of her seizures has changed -- and seemingly for the better.  They do not last nearly as long and she rarely loses complete consciousness with them and regains her strength and alertness immediately afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:Arial; font-size:10pt'&gt;We were discharged on Mother's Day (what a great gift!!) and she has been recovering really well at home.  This was MUCH sooner than the 2-3 week hospital stay we were told to initially anticipate for these surgeries.  God is good and I see a great life ahead for my baby!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;			&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5078335169859898875?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5078335169859898875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5078335169859898875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5078335169859898875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5078335169859898875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/05/recovery.html' title='Recovery'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3390199632111023251</id><published>2008-05-05T21:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:47:18.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hospital Day 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been a long, tough day. We arrived at the hospital this morning at 6:00 am for #1's surgery. The grid placement went well, her CT looked good, however, they didn't have a bed in the monitoring unit for us until nearly 9:00, so we spent nearly 6 hours in the recovery area waiting. Right before they were to transport us to the unit, #1 had her first seizure. It was a doozy, lasting a minute and a half. The bad part was that none of her electrodes were hooked up because we were still in recovery, not in monitoring. She just had her 2&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; one of the evening, lasting a full minute. Hopefully we won't have to wait long for them to see enough good ones to record so that we can get this second surgery over with soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My baby is in a lot of pain, the morphine and Tylenol 3 aren't helping much. On top of that, the severe seizures that she is having will have her sore for days afterwards. I know that this is just the first day, however, I guess we expected less pain since it is the brain. I'm guessing that it's actually the incision site itself that is hurting, although she is so out of it that she is unable to verify that. I've spent the majority of this day worrying and crying for my baby. This is just the first day, though, to a life that we are praying will be seizure free. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3390199632111023251?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3390199632111023251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3390199632111023251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3390199632111023251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3390199632111023251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/05/hospital-day-1.html' title='Hospital Day 1'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3522347420987946751</id><published>2008-05-04T21:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:46:44.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Night Before</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's late here – nearly 11:00. The house is quiet, except for #1 tossing and turning that I can hear over the monitor. In just about 8 hours, my baby will have the first of two surgeries. Tomorrow's surgery is to place the electrode grid over her right parietal lobe, with electrode strips in other areas. This will help the surgeon to determine more exactly which areas of the brain to remove on the 2&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; surgery. In order to do this, they will have to capture seizures while the grid is in place. To better facilitate seizures, she has been taken off of all her anti-seizure meds. My baby looks like she is going through the DT's. Or a better description would be that she looks like a Parkinson's patient. Her hands are shaking so badly at times that her entire arm moves. Her feet and legs are twitching constantly. Her aura comes and goes, but we haven't seen one seizure as of yet. She's gone from taking 14 pills per day to none as of this evening. The Trileptal was the first to go about a month ago and four days ago, her neuro pulled her Lamictal, Keppra, and Klonopin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am afraid. I am afraid of the brain surgeries themselves. I am afraid that the beautiful, wonderful young woman that I have the privilege of calling my daughter will not be the same young woman that comes out of surgery. Most of all, I am afraid that she might be one of the few that this surgery doesn't work for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have given my child to God to watch over for the next couple of weeks. I'm just borrowing her on this earth and He does a much better job of taking care of her than I do. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3522347420987946751?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3522347420987946751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3522347420987946751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3522347420987946751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3522347420987946751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/05/night-before.html' title='Night Before'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5932455111841022153</id><published>2008-04-23T19:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:46:07.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4/23/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, the drama here over the last few days. Last Thursday, wonderful daughter #2 brought home a letter from school regarding her excessive absences. Of course, my first question was, "What excessive absences?" Come to find out, said daughter has been skipping school here and there. For what? No apparent reason – just to take herself a vacation day or two, or seven. Then, when questions, she ratted out #1 – turns out #1 took herself a vacation day or two herself over the last few weeks. My wonderful husband was relaying all this info over the phone to me while I was at work, since he was home with #1 that day for her first day of homebound instruction. I got so very instantly angry, that my first words were, "You better tell those girls to give their hearts to God because their butts are mine!!" What I actually heard him say was, "Your mom is VERY angry." My next words were, "I hope like hell that they are still there when I get home because fur will fly!!" Which again got mistranslated to, "She will speak to you when she calms down." Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The thing is – on the great, grand scheme of life, this wasn't a big deal. On the other hand, though, they lied – they purposefully sneaked out (dressed for school and then waited around the corner until we were gone and came back home. I don't know WHY they thought they wouldn't get caught. But the punishment was swift and severe. I told #2 that she would have to call me from school – a school line - each morning so that the number popped up on my caller ID and I KNEW she was where she was supposed to be. And I told her that the first time she "forgot" to call, I would leave work immediately, drive to school, hunt her down and stay right beside her for the rest of the school day – even cutting up her meat at lunch if need be. And then when she showed disbelief, even saying, "You won't do that," I replied with, "Dare me – just once."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, teenagers – they are wunnerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On the epilepsy front, we are nearly through ramping down the Trileptal. At the end of next week, #1 will be on none whatsoever. She is scheduled for an MRI on Friday evening and her pre-admit papers and blood work on Friday mid-day. Just a little over a week away and my baby will be going under for the first surgery. Just yesterday was her 16&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday and I had a moment of sentimentality and nostalgia. She left school so quickly that we didn't have time to give her a 16&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday party with her friends. And now that the seizure activity has dramatically increased, we can't really do anything right now, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My dad had to back out of coming down to stay with the other two children while we are in the hospital because my dad has decided that mom might not be "with-it" enough to stay by herself. However, mom also decided that she didn't want to stay at my house because the bed wasn't comfortable, the chairs weren't comfortable, etc. You name it and she had a reason NOT to be here. Just a couple of weeks ago she decided that she wasn't welcome at my home (not that I ever said that) and wasn't going to come anyway. I'm not sure where she got that info, but it's in her mind that she's not welcome here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anywho – that's enough for now. I'll update more as we get closer to surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5932455111841022153?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5932455111841022153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5932455111841022153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5932455111841022153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5932455111841022153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/04/42308.html' title='4/23/08'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5857695904616667289</id><published>2008-04-08T19:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:44:13.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Latest Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wow – it's been a while since I updated. On the seizure front, this past Friday was our last neurology visit before surgery. Her doc decided to begin to wean her off the Trileptal (ramping down about 300mg per week). We decreased her dose beginning on Saturday and on Monday morning right after arriving at school she lost the feeling in her left arm. Her typical aura is numbness and/or tingling on the left arm and leg. This scared her, as she said it happened very suddenly. She called while we were nearly halfway downtown on the way to work and her phone kept cutting in and out. We couldn't understand her and didn't know if it was because she was in the middle of a seizure or in a part of the school that didn't get good reception. To make my nerves even worse, I couldn't get anyone at any extension I dialed at the school to pick up. I could just imagine #1 somewhere in the middle of this 3000+ student campus seizing. As it turns out, she made it to the band hall, grabbed a buddy of hers and they made it to the nurses' office. Even better news is that they approved our application for homebound instruction for her – the ARD is scheduled for Thursday so that we can officially make it so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Something funny – I told the nurse while I was signing her out that she wasn't coming back to school no matter what the decision of the homebound coordinator was. The risk of her increasingly seizing (say THAT five times fast) over the next 3-4 weeks is too great to have her at school. When we were checking her out of the attendant's office, the attendant gave us a "Return To School" pass. I told her that we wouldn't need it, that #1 wasn't coming back. She said, "That's okay, she can bring it with her tomorrow for her advisory teacher". I said, "No, she's not coming back at all this year," which gained me a very concerned look from the attendant. She finally said, "Well, she'll need it when she returns to class," at which point I just gave up and took the pass and told her that I'd make sure #1 had it in her backpack at the beginning of her junior year. At that point the nurse and #1 started laughing and we all merrily trudged out to the parking lot. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5857695904616667289?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5857695904616667289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5857695904616667289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5857695904616667289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5857695904616667289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/04/latest-update.html' title='Latest Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-6840787287795406432</id><published>2008-03-29T17:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:42:46.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer Saturday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/R-7kfLsJ1YI/AAAAAAAAAAY/nBmt4xHNtO0/s1600-h/Soccer1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183331445515081090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/R-7kfLsJ1YI/AAAAAAAAAAY/nBmt4xHNtO0/s400/Soccer1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SOCCER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You're doin' it wrong!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;LOL -- this picture was taken by one of our soccer dads. My husband and I threw up a quick site for the team this spring and we get submissions from the parents. This one just cracked me up!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My girls have always played some type of sport. #3 luvs her soccer and we play spring and fall. #2 has the natural grace and athletic ability, but hasn't been able to decide upon a sport until this last year. And her choice isn't really a sport -- it's dance. She is in process of trying out to be a athletic trainer this next year and I hope it works for her because it will keep her involved and active. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#1, poor baby, has no natural grace or ability AND if the sport involves a ball in any way, shape or form, she usually gets hit in the head or gut with it. Example: When she was 6 she played soccer for one term. I can remember her being gung ho until she was rushing the goal at one point and the goalie kicked the ball HARD for a 6 year old and it flew right into her stomach, not only knocking the wind out of her, but knocking her off her feet and on her back in the middle of the field. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or how's this one: One short year later she decided to try softball (WHY do they call it softball when the ball is harder than a baseball??). That was the very year -- the very season she was diagnosed with epilepsy and she had just gotten out of the hospital the week previous. Her coach was warming up with her and she wasn't paying attention as was her custom. He threw the ball at her and she turned around JUST in time for it to hit her right between the eyes, causing her glasses to go flying and again, knocking her flat on her back. That poor man was beside himself because he had just hit the epileptic in the head with a ball. I think he expected that he was responsible for each seizure she had after that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life happens, and for #1, it happens around seizures. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-6840787287795406432?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/6840787287795406432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=6840787287795406432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6840787287795406432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6840787287795406432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/soccer-saturday.html' title='Soccer Saturday'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v8BIU_w11x8/R-7kfLsJ1YI/AAAAAAAAAAY/nBmt4xHNtO0/s72-c/Soccer1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5885474965485739120</id><published>2008-03-28T21:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:41:51.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homebound</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;The neurologist's office called this afternoon to discuss our decision to place #1 on homebound instruction at school a month early. After explaining that she's missed so much school the last 12 weeks and the fact that trying to catch up was adding undue stress, combined with the fact that she will be missing the last six weeks of school anyway due to the surgery, they agreed that homebound would be best. #1 herself has mixed feelings – she's glad to finally be rid of the having to play catch up, but she's disappointed that she won't be allowed to attend school with her friends and that she'll have to make up the electives (homebound instructors will only teach your core classes, not the electives). I think it is a wise decision, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's funny – one of my co-workers has a daughter in her mid-20's and she is going through her first MAJOR breakup and it's been worse on mom than on the daughter. I was sitting in her office this morning while she was telling me the happenings of the last few days and at the end she said, "But it's NOTHING like what you are going through." That's not the first time she's said that to me and as always, my response is, "We are all mothers and the trauma of our children affects us no matter what it is." We've been dealing with #1 and her issues for so long that it's a part of our regular life and so I don't feel as though my family or my life is different in any way except our struggles are medical in nature. I've even had people say after meeting #1, "You'd never know that she has problems, she's so normal looking." Hello??!! #1 is the face of epilepsy – it's not a life sentence or a diagnosis of automatic retardation or brain damage. I guess they expect her to look "damaged" in some way, not like a normal teenager. I'm real fond of saying that the world doesn't stop because #1 has epilepsy, #1 has to learn how to live in with world with her epilepsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On other family notes – soccer game for game at the unjust hour of 8:00 AM – IN THE MORNING!! So much for sleeping in some. I'm already tagging tomorrow as a nap day (that either makes me extremely old or extremely tired – maybe both). It's also my wonderful hubby's grandma's birthday, so we'll be up late tomorrow night celebrating the big 85 with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Later – got to get some much needed sleep.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5885474965485739120?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5885474965485739120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5885474965485739120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5885474965485739120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5885474965485739120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/homebound.html' title='Homebound'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-7392945231311174016</id><published>2008-03-27T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:39:38.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keppra Cruelty</title><content type='html'>I do not like Keppra. I do not like my child on Keppra. Just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1's attitude takes a HUGE dive with the Keppra. We were told that it could cause moodiness, aggressive tendencies, etc. However, sometimes this normally laid-back, non-agressive, non-violent, sweet young girls turns into the wicked witch of the west, with poisoned daggers shooting out of her eyes, vicious bile-laden words spewing out of her mouth, and OMG!!! -- the stomping around, the carrying on, the tears and the hate (and that's just ME!! You should see HER!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we ended up leaving for church last night (which was just an hour and a half after picking her up at school and getting to the house) I was in possession of her laptop, her iPod, and her cell phone. I always tell the girls that while there might be valid REASONS that they feel or act a certain way (like hormones and Keppra) there is no EXCUSE for not controlling what you say or do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I ended up giving back the computer and stuff because I am a reasonable person who tries to understand the basis for whatever they are going through. But still...life is tough at our house sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVENING UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;It's about 9:00 here and all is calm and quiet and normal. I don't know what makes some days worse medication-wise, but today is a welcome respite after yesterday. I came home, piddled in my garden, weeded and watered. I made dinner and the girls had some friends over. I have gotten good family time and life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-7392945231311174016?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/7392945231311174016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=7392945231311174016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7392945231311174016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/7392945231311174016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/keppra-cruelty.html' title='Keppra Cruelty'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3128666006816604641</id><published>2008-03-25T18:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:38:49.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories….(light the corners of my life…)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;The last few weeks I have been trying to spend as much time with all the girls as possible, but especially with #1. The "what if's" are racing through my brain right now. "What if" the #1 going into surgery isn't the same #1 coming out? "What if" she comes out brain damaged? "What if" she doesn't come through at all? I know that I've placed my girl in God's hands and that He has the ultimate plan for her, however, my human side sometimes struggles with acceptance and these "what if's" are bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've had snippets of memories come out of nowhere. For example, the other day I was telling my husband the story of when #1 was about 6 months old and my sister was over playing with her and had her raised above her head, twisting her back and forth and making her laugh. And during one of those over the head maneuvers, the reflux reared up, and with the loudest sound to come of that child's mouth to that point in her young life, she drenched my sister with what seemed like a gallon of baby spit-up. And a half-gallon in my sister's open, laughing mouth (which stopped laughing pretty quick – LOL). I know – really gross, but really funny at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I remember that baby being my constant companion for the first year and a half of her life, lodged on my left hip, laughing at the world. She was such a good baby, she was an easy-going toddler, and she's been a great teenager so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nothing like mom-worry to bring out the mom-memories.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3128666006816604641?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3128666006816604641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3128666006816604641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3128666006816604641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3128666006816604641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/memorieslight-corners-of-my-life.html' title='Memories….(light the corners of my life…)'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3355582247908061912</id><published>2008-03-24T18:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:37:10.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mixed Moods</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today is one of those days where I'm glad to see the end of the day. Not a bad day, per se, but an extremely long day. On the surgical front, I spoke with #1's counselor at school today and we decided to go ahead and place her on homebound instruction. This school year has been somewhat of a wash for her to date and she'd have to go on homebound instruction the week before her surgery anyway, so by beginning a few weeks early, we give her the opportunity to catch up with stressing about stuff. She'll have to make up a couple of electives over the next year or so, but other than that, there shouldn't be a negative from the scholastic point. From a social point, this is murder. Nearly 16 and sophomore in high school isn't the time that you want to be away from the social scene, but I really see no way around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My workplace is being very generous with me and my time off. They are allowing me to work from either a minimum number of hours or from home (or the hospital) for a number of hours each day for the entire time that #1 is in-patient. My hospital is just a couple of blocks down the street from the pediatric hospital that #1 will be at. I can get away for 3 or 4 hours a day and put in my time with no time being recorded off. If I didn't, taking that kind of time off would kill us financially. I took a total of 12 paid weeks last year for my own procedures and vacation. Between that time and the time I've taken this year for #1, I just don't have any left. I am so very blessed to be where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think that we are all ready to get this over with – us as a family, and #1 especially. While we don't lay down and die when stuff like this happens, this past year has taken a toll on all of us. #1 aside, my other two children have gotten the short shrift at different points due to the time and energy spent on other necessary thing. #2 especially feels left out at times and is pretty vocal about saying so. Not in an ugly way, but enough to make me think that I haven't taken enough time to spend with her. She's worried about her sister, but she's a teenager as well, so as a result, she feels shorted the time off from school, the time that #1 spends with us at work, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;More later – my new favorite game calls – Chocolatier II. What a game geek, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3355582247908061912?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3355582247908061912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3355582247908061912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3355582247908061912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3355582247908061912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/mixed-moods.html' title='Mixed Moods'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3724246123449294979</id><published>2008-03-18T19:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:35:14.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery Date</title><content type='html'>Right before I was about to walk out of the office this afternoon, my phone rings. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was from the surgeon’s office. Sure enough, the doc’s assistant was calling to schedule #1’s surgery. She offered two dates for us to choose from – May 5 or June 9. After talking about it with #1 and with the wonderful hubs, we have decided to go with May 5 for a variety of reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, this school year has pretty much been a wash for her with all the absences and the resulting “Incompletes” from the last grading period. Combine that with the fact that her current grades are struggling right now because she missed so much interim stuff, it makes sense to take the end of this school year off. Secondly, the there is a possibility that she might need some rehab afterwards because of a possibility that she will lost some left-side function. So if we go with the earlier date that gives us four additional weeks for her recovery before the new school year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a scary thing, but we’ve placed it in God’s hands. With His help and the skill of the surgeon, #1 has a chance at a better life without seizures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3724246123449294979?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3724246123449294979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3724246123449294979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3724246123449294979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3724246123449294979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/surgery-date.html' title='Surgery Date'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-6920634089565328281</id><published>2008-03-16T19:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:34:21.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LONG Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today has been one of those days that has seemed so full of grief and hassle and it has gone on forever. It's only 8:45 at night, but it feels so much later. Things are quiet on the seizure front – this latest drug cocktail of Keppra, Lamictal and Trileptal seem to be working, with only one seizure in the last 4 weeks. It's an accepted fact that once an epileptic fails two drug therapies or more that they won't have much control no matter what the drug. #1 has been on too many anti-seizure meds to count, so while we have a tenuous control now, I don't expect it to last. I am hoping that it will last at least until her surgery date, however.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My hubby and I got off to a rocky start this morning, but the good thing about marrying a Christian man is that we both share the same beliefs and after a while, things were back on track. That's about the time my cell phone beeped, alerting me that I had a voice mail. It was from my mother. I think I mentioned a few posts ago that my parents' are heading for divorce. Neither one of them seem to be capable of acting like adults and instead are behaving like a couple of children. Dad has a female friend, and while I don't even pretend to know whether or not they have actually crossed the line and slept together, he has put himself in a bad spot for a married man. Mom knows about the woman, about their friendship and is acting like a jealous teenager – tracking dad down at the lady's house (which happens to be a rental house that my parents own), bad-mouthing him all over town, etc. For the last few weeks now neither one of them has said anything to me about what's going on, but my sister is catching the brunt of things because they are both venting to her, and she in turn vents to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This morning, however, mom dragged me into it and the entire day has been spent with phone calls from mom and my sister. My sister is at her wit's end – she's had it and my dad has put her in a really uncomfortable spot because of some things that he has asked her to do. She finally broke down this evening and told me that she just can't take it anymore. She told dad that she had no respect for him any longer and that he needed to drive to her town, take care of this business that he has asked her to do, and then she doesn't want anything to do with him again. On top of that, mom let it be known that my girls weren't going to their house for spring break because of him, which is NOT what I said. What I did tell her was that my girls had already lived through a war very similar to this with their schizophrenic, abusive dad and that I wasn't going to willingly send my girls into their war zone and let them become pawns in their game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, my head and heart are full of concern and worry. Worry about my mom and dad, their health, their mental stability, and their 40-year marriage. Concern about a few things here in my own home, and the constant worry that I carry with me about #1 and her health. Worry and concern weigh me down and I'm feeling all used up and old today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-6920634089565328281?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/6920634089565328281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=6920634089565328281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6920634089565328281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/6920634089565328281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/long-day.html' title='LONG Day'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8446705636916471875</id><published>2008-03-10T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:33:24.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit with the Neurosurgeon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tomorrow is our appointment with the neurosurgeon who will be performing #1's surgery. She is coming with us to this visit. I did ask her if she wanted to or not and her response was, "Uh, YEAH! I want to meet the person who will be doing my BRAIN surgery, Mom." And I really didn't expect anything different, it was just odd to hear her say it. I think that tomorrow will be her epiphany. The date where the possibility becomes the reality. My epiphany was a couple of months ago when the neurologist called me at work to let me know the most up-to-date test results and the fact that their neurology board had decided to pursue surgery for #1. I literally sat in my office and cried like a baby because the possibility had become my reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't mind saying that I am scared. I put my faith in God, but my human side comes through when I think about someone operating on my baby's brain. The possibility that my #1 going into surgery might not be the same #1 coming out of surgery. I give this worry over to God each and every day, but because I AM human, I take it back daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On other topics, my mom and dad have been married for 40 years this February. Unfortunately, I don't think they'll make it to 41 years. My mom's brain functioning is going downhill quickly, but to top that off, it seems as though my dad has struck up a friendship with another woman which is really causing difficulties in the house. Just as a quick background, my mom is the most unfeminine, non-maternal, hard-nosed woman that I have ever met. She has been difficult as long as I've been alive. To top things off, I believe that she is bordering on a strong diagnosis of either dementia or early-onset Alzheimers. BUT that's no excuse for my dad to decide after 40 years of marriage that he's had enough. He wouldn't leave her if she had some tangible illness such as cancer. But because this can't be easily diagnosed, not something you can touch or read, he's ready to call it quits. On the one hand, I can't blame him because I know more than anyone what it's like to live with someone who is mentally ill (my ex is a schizophrenic). However, on the other hand, she is sick and I feel strongly about leaving a spouse because they are sick and not meeting your needs any longer. I can't worry about that right now, however, there are so many other things going on in our lives that carry greater worry weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8446705636916471875?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8446705636916471875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8446705636916471875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8446705636916471875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8446705636916471875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/visit-with-neurosurgeon.html' title='Visit with the Neurosurgeon'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-783351698765325801</id><published>2008-03-09T17:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:19:03.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today was a great day!  We spent a lot of time (and a lot of $$$) outside puttering around the yard.  We bought some gardenia bushes to fill in a space by the garage that our dog used as his personal digging ground.  Took some work, some dirt, and lot of back-aggravating labor, but #1 and I finished it up by dark tonight.  Oh, and #3 had to help by sprinkling the gardenias with water just as soon as I put them into the ground.  And sprinkling #1 and I in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#3 had soccer yesterday morning and got kicked in the leg by a boy on the opposing team.  She is mighty bruised up today.  I sounded just like my dad when I told her that there was "No crying in sports!"  I can remember my dad telling me the same thing playing softball way back when.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My ex e-mailed us that he had four tickets to the rodeo and that he was sick and wasn't able to take the girls.  We didn't plan on going to the rodeo; in fact, we had planned on having a great, kid-free day to ourselves, which is something we don't get often anymore.  PLUS, we are both so not crowd people and you can't get much more crowded than the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.  So we offered the tix to our middle daughter and a few of her friends.   I believe in giving independence in short, controlled bursts so that the kids learn as they go.  She did good, though.  Spent all her money, but made it home in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tomorrow marks three weeks without a seizure for #1.  The Keppra addition to her meds seems to be good, however it does turn her into Satan's sister at some points during the week.  The nurse did warn us that it could cause aggressive behavior and man, does it ever.  BUT it's a small trade-off for being seizure free right now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-783351698765325801?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/783351698765325801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=783351698765325801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/783351698765325801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/783351698765325801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/weekend-update.html' title='Weekend Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5860739049849139702</id><published>2008-03-03T11:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:29:59.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Weeks Seizure-Free!</title><content type='html'>Today makes two weeks since #1s last seizure. That hasn’t happened since November. She had such a great weekend! For the first time in months I am seeing my bright, sunny, and beautiful girl again. She’s been so depressed and funky, but that’s to be expected. Her whole body has hurt pretty much constantly for the last few months. Because of the seizures, her leg muscles have been incredibly tight (although I really expect they are spasms that won’t go away). Also, she developed TMJ-type symptoms and because of the constant pain in the jaw hasn’t been able to eat regularly or even talk at some points. My poor girl, I am so very grateful to God that she is slowly acting her normal self. LOL – as a matter of fact, she was acting SO NORMAL that she was working my last nerve with the incessant talking, but I have missed it so much that I listened anyway. Even when she got uber-excited and called me “Dude!” instead of mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1's right parietal lobe is where her seizure activity originates from. The docs’ best guess is that she suffered either a stroke or aneurism during development when I was pregnant. The entire lobe is smaller than the others and has a definite lack of blood flow. There are several smaller “spots” of damage on her other lobes, but the worst of it is the right parietal lobe. I know that God is truly a God of miracles, because after seeing so many specialists and having so many tests and results, with the extent of the brain damage they tell us she has, she shouldn’t even be functional. But she is bright and beautiful – a GT/Honors student, very involved in school and church and all-in-all a great kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off-topic weight issues -- my wonderful hubs is a good man (he’d have to be to marry us four women). He is wonderfully supportive and loves me no matter what. He does, however, suffer from foot-in-mouth disease to some extent. I had a gastric bypass over two years ago and a body lift about 7 months ago. In all, I have lost over 200 pounds. He was uploading some before/after pictures to our laptop for me and I was laying in bed reading. Out of the blue, he pops out with, “You know, you were much thinner in these pictures.” Much thinner, by the way, is only about 10 pounds. My lowest weight was about 154 right after the body lift. My current weight is 165, give or take a couple of pounds fluctuation. So when he said that, my first instinct was to get defensive. My inner voice was all, “So what? I’m too fat for you now? I don’t look good? 200 pounds gone isn’t enough?” Being the masochist that I am, what I actually said was, “Do you think I looked better then?” And his answer was yes. So again, the masochist in me stepped right up and said, “Do you prefer my body like that over this?” And again, he pulled his foot out long enough to say yes. To be very honest, I did ask him a couple of years ago to say something if I ever began to gain weight – to help hold me accountable so that I don’t become the fat girl again. But a stable weight of 165 for the last 6 or 7 months as opposed to a steady gain is okay in my mind. If anything—he’s honest to a fault, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will admit that my feelings were incredibly hurt. As a former fat girl, my weight has always been an utterly taboo subject. It was always a major focus of my ex-husband, who used to degrade me emotionally pretty regularly. At nearly 350 pounds, I thought my weight preceded me everywhere. I felt like I was always the focus of attention, and not in a good way, but because I was always the largest woman in the room. My self-esteem and self-worth was totally destroyed for the longest time, but I’ve begun to heal. However, at 165 pounds, I still carry that 350 pound woman in my mind – she lives in my mirror and won’t leave me alone. Because of that, innocent comments such as my wonderful hubs, who truly didn’t mean anything negative by it, get blown all out of proportion. Even now, 2 days later, I’m still pondering and worrying it to death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5860739049849139702?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5860739049849139702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5860739049849139702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5860739049849139702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5860739049849139702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/03/two-weeks-seizure-free.html' title='Two Weeks Seizure-Free!'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3582403405076532444</id><published>2008-02-29T19:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:30:40.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally Connected</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;I finally got my laptop back this past Tuesday. I only had it for one short week, but I didn't realize how accustomed I had grown to it. It sure beats working on a desktop, that's for sure. My wonderful hubby and I went out of town last week for our belated anniversary trip. We go to a little bed and breakfast in Fredricksberg every year. This year, we really needed the relaxing time alone, as it's been a pretty stressful six months or so and we've got another few ahead of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#1 has gone nearly two weeks now without a seizure and very few medication side effects. We haven't adjusted her old meds (Trileptal and Lamictal), but we did add Keppra to the cocktail. Her neurologist called me yesterday to give me the final results of the PET scan and to let me know that the neurology board met for the third time to discuss her case and it was decided that she would indeed benefit from neurosurgery. We meet with the surgeon on the 11&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; for the initial consult and to schedule a date. We are still aiming for early June so that she can have the entire summer to recoup before beginning her extra-curricular activities in late July. I am utterly serious when I say that the thought of brain surgery on my child scares me witless. I know that the alternative is living with the disease, and that's not feasible. However, just imaging her being opened up sends shivers down my spine and prayers up to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's late and I just finished uploading this week's assignments for school, so more updates later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3582403405076532444?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3582403405076532444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3582403405076532444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3582403405076532444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3582403405076532444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/02/finally-connected.html' title='Finally Connected'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-8250872153301166678</id><published>2008-02-18T20:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:22:12.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>Our brand-new, less than a week and half owned, laptop crashed a week and a half ago. My wonderful, techno-savvy husband says the hard drive crashed, so we've taken it back in to the repair center for fixin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been such a rough weekend. I hit my low point this morning and had a good cry. My beautiful daughter is having such a rough time of it right now. We have changed medications (actually added an additional one), so now she's taking Trileptal, Lamictal, and Keppra. All with no seizure control. She had two seizures this morning, but I played the hard-nosed mama and sent her to school. Late, but there. We have found that variations from a routine tend to trigger more seizures. So as soon as she could, she was in the shower and out the door. I know it was the right thing to do because she came home in a really good mood. However, she's in a world of pain. Her TMJ is horrible because of the seizures. Her leg muscles are extremely sore due to the contractions. I am at a loss because of not knowing what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wonderful hubby and I are going for a much needed long weekend away this weekend. My dad will keep the girls so that I won't have many worries. Of all the people I know, dad is one of the few that I trust to take good care of the girls in general, #1 in particular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later -- I am mentally tired and need some rest before a new day dawns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-8250872153301166678?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/8250872153301166678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=8250872153301166678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8250872153301166678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/8250872153301166678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/02/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-5770333602578077559</id><published>2008-02-05T15:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:23:48.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Day – Another Absence</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;#1 had a seizure last night. The Todd's paralysis isn't resolving itself as quickly anymore, so when it was time for her to get up this morning and go to school, she couldn't move her left leg effectively. The wonderful hubs and I both put in a half-day – morning for me and evening for him – so that we could stay home with her. She is missing so much more school than usual right now and it is stressing her (and me) out big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The worry sometimes is unbelievable. Not to mention the stress and fatigue. I think I slept for all of an hour and a half last night. We have a monitor in her room (which is upstairs and on the opposite end of the house) so that we can hear when she begins to seize. So, if I wasn't hanging my head over the side of the bed to better hear every little sound on the monitor, then I was running up the stairs to check on her to make sure that little noise I heard underneath the static wasn't a seizure. I know that getting to the surgical point is a process filled with tests and labs and physician visits, however, it just seems as though the days are creeping by. Her depression continues to spiral out of control some days. Fifteen is a difficult age under normal circumstances, however, being fifteen with out of control seizure disorder is rough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The wonderful hubs and I are taking a 5-day weekend in a couple of weeks to get away and recharge. I feel a little guilty leaving her while she's going through this, but I know that if we don't take some time for ourselves, we burnout. Constant caretaking takes a toll. My dad will be watching the girls while we are gone, and I have total confidence in his ability to handle anything that comes, but I also know that #1 prefers mom when her health issues are interfering and I also know that she prefers to be home when things are bad. So that little chip of mom guilt that is planted on our shoulders when that first little darlin' is born continues to grow with decisions like this. Do we stay? Do we go? What would #1 want? Geez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;More later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-5770333602578077559?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/5770333602578077559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=5770333602578077559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5770333602578077559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/5770333602578077559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/02/another-day-another-absence.html' title='Another Day – Another Absence'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-2463710912596327755</id><published>2008-02-04T16:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:21:34.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Medication Messes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am sitting in my bedroom, watching #1 as she struggles through yet another bad medication day. The combination of drugs and the dosages that she takes sometimes gives her horrible side effects, which include disorientation, migraine-type headaches, blurred vision, etc. Today is one of those days. Actually, every day has been one of those days for the last few weeks. Sometimes I feel as though treating the disease is worse than having the disease itself. I watch the struggle that she goes through some days and my heart hurts for my girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She has such strength of character and goodness of spirit, however, these last few months have been really rough on her. Her PET scan is scheduled for next week and then hopefully we can schedule an appointment with the neurosurgeon to talk about the surgery and schedule a date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We host a teenage small group for our church every Sunday night, but because of SuperBowl yesterday, they are meeting tonight instead. And where is my daughter? Sitting on the loveseat in my room because her concentration is shot, she is in pain, and can't see straight. Back in my teenage days, that would have been the mark of a great weekend!!! But for an epileptic, that's bad stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I spoke via conference call this afternoon to a partial ARD panel to see what can be done about her absences. It was decided that we would modify her schedule and let her come in later in the day so that hopefully most of the issues will have passed before her 2&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; period. I have to say, I've tried to get her help scholastically over the last 8-10 years and have NEVER had the good experiences and attention that we have at our current district. She has a wonderful case manager and counselor that have such an interest in her welfare. We are blessed, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As I speak, my youngest daughter is sitting on the bed playing Xbox with the wonderful hubs. She is a hoot – she can carry on a conversation solely with herself and whichever character is onscreen at the time. I believe they've been playing for nearly 30 minutes now and I don't think she's come up for a long breath in all that time. LOL – I used to ask her every morning when she was younger if she had decided who she was going to be today – Miss Mouth of the South OR Princess Chatterbox. I KNOW she's got her mama's genes in her because I used to be the same way. I come from the day of television commercials that actually had jingles. I never have been a TV watcher, but I can remember sitting in the living room with family reading a book during whatever show they were watching and then when the commercials came on belting out the jingles at the top of my lungs. My dad used to get so very annoyed and it would usually end badly (oh, such as me being sent away or fussed at for my "voice that carries"). But that never stopped me. To this day I can sing some jingles for products that don't even exist any longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My next post will begin to give the background on #1's epilepsy and how it was diagnosed. Again, I just want to mark this down for posterity – so one day she can look back on this time – to document the road to surgery – to give mom an outlet that I don't have anywhere else right now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-2463710912596327755?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/2463710912596327755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=2463710912596327755' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2463710912596327755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/2463710912596327755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/02/medication-messes.html' title='Medication Messes'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606575627040400586.post-3351879332641032121</id><published>2008-02-03T15:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T11:20:30.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>History</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is my first foray into the world of blogging. I mainly wanted a forum to put down thoughts of what we are going through, as a family, in the process of getting my oldest daughter ready for surgery for epilepsy. She was diagnosed about 9 years ago and her seizures have gotten progressively worse through the years. Multiple medication therapies have not been effective for her, so she is in the final stages of getting all the pre-testing finished to be able to have surgery possibly in June of this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Background on the family – I am married to a wonderful, strong, Christian man and we have three beautiful daughters, #3(7), #2(14), and #1(15). This is our second marriage each and all the girls are mine from my first marriage, but my wonderful hubby considers them his own and our girls could not love him more than if he were their own biological father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll write more later about #1 and her epilepsy and the struggles she's been going through recently.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3606575627040400586-3351879332641032121?l=echeverryadventures.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/feeds/3351879332641032121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3606575627040400586&amp;postID=3351879332641032121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3351879332641032121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3606575627040400586/posts/default/3351879332641032121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://echeverryadventures.blogspot.com/2008/02/history.html' title='History'/><author><name>LisaE</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
