This is Epilepsy

We headed out to do the zoo this morning. The family membership I popped for is good through 3/31, and that's today. The koalas are there, Africa is open, it was 55º and windy. Only a 10% chance of rain. It was Ferris Bueller's Day Off nice out.

For the record, I might have known. Mo got up at three-something in the morning. Like, up for the day got up. At first, I thought it was more like six and wondered why I was so freakin' exhausted. Then I noticed the clock and decided that maybe it wasn't time for eggs and toast.



If it'd been a school night, I'd have toughed it out. Because the only weapon I have against this kind of obscenely early morning, is Benadryl. And it's not reliable. And it doesn't wear off quickly, so if it did have the desired effect, it would make it about impossible to get her moving again at seven.

To my immense relief, it worked, and she went back to bed of her own volition about half an hour after taking the stuff.



And she slept in. Sort of. She slept until 8:00, which is like sleeping until noon for most kiddos.

We stopped to take pictures as we went, and looking at the shots with a screen bigger than 1.5 inches (the preview on my camera), it was in her face. Things were not right.



We stopped at the waterfall. To rub a Buddha. To say hello to the red pandas. The Sumatran tigers.

We were headed into the Australia section to look for kangaroos and koalas, and Mo took a sudden seat on a bench. This is something she does sometimes, basically her way of saying, 'Do we have to walk so much?'

So I point the camera at her, which is something I tend to do. She threw out her arms and hammed for a pic. And when I went to snap another shot, not sure I had the aperture set right, she looked off to her right. And kept looking.



This last photo is what a partial seizure looks like right before the idiot with the camera realizes his daughter is seizing.

I didn't capture the images of her losing bladder control, drooling, chewing, and rolling her eyes in improbable ways.



Thing is, it's not as spectacular as a grand mal seizure, but it takes a lot out of her. And it was probably a half mile walk to the car from here. The other bad part about the subtle nature of a partial seizure is nobody notices. Or if they do, they don't try to help.

I should have flagged down a zoo employee and made them give us a lift on a zoo golf cart. I don't know if they would have, or if the fear of a lawsuit would have inspired them to call for an ambulance we didn't need.

Mo basically sleep-walked to the car.