Today is the one-year anniversary of my first seizure; the
day that changed our lives forever. I don’t remember much of that morning,
except what I’ve been told: Anette woke up downstairs, heard that the house was
a bit too quiet and came upstairs to find me on the couch with my pants around
my ankles (I had already dressed for work and had just gone to the bathroom).
At first she thought I had just fainted, but then came a primal roar from the
depths of my being and I started shaking and foaming at the mouth. That’s when
she called the ambulance and started to freak out (in a controlled way).
I do remember the EMTs waking me up on the couch and saying,
“Alexander, du har hatt et epileptisk
anfall,” to which I could only mumble back, because speech is affected in
the immediate aftermath of a seizure. I remember being carried down our stairs
in a chair and being able to give a wave and a weak smile to my family.
Apparently when I got to the hospital I had a second
seizure, which I have no recollection of, although when Anette finally arrived
she told me what had happened. In the meantime, her brother and Elise dropped
everything and sped from Oslo to Drammen to be with the kids that day, and her
mom started driving over from Haugesund.
It was a Tuesday, and I had been scheduled to swim the 100
breast in the Marienlyst Open that Sunday. Today is a Wednesday and I am signed
up for the meet again, this time the 200 IM and 50 breast on Saturday (Nick
will drive and film me) and then the 100 on Sunday (everybody will come to
cheer me on). Hopefully I will go fast, but the truth is that the times don’t
matter at all.
Swimming matters because it’s been my lifeline throughout
this most difficult of years, it’s made me feel alive when returning from
radiation at the cancer hospital, when my hair fell out, and when I’ve had
bouts of sadness. I’ve been swimming 105 times since June 13, which is an
average of about every third day. It’s helped me to stay positive, and the meet
in Orlando this summer has been a big motivator. Reuniting with the Fab 4 and
swimming our relay one more time was definitely on my bucket list, and now I’ll
be able to make that happen - on our nine-year wedding anniversary, no less.
1210
The house and gardens are now clean, organized and ready for
Nick and Nicole to arrive in about three hours. We chose not to drive to the
airport to get them for this very reason: to give ourselves another day alone
to prepare ourselves mentally and the house practically for their visit. Anette
is walking along the river with a colleague who has worked with her new boss,
whom she will meet for the first time at their meeting with NAV on May 3.
Hopefully she will get some insight as to why he’s been sending such strange,
unfeeling emails.
Meanwhile I’ve been at home cleaning windows, floors and the
upstairs bathroom to make sure that our friends will be comfortable. It’s also
given me more time to reflect on how important this day, and this visit, is.
Nick is one of my very best friends from childhood, and having
known a series of his girlfriends throughout high school, college and young
adulthood, I first met Nicole in California in 2005 (at a restaurant in Oakland,
I think). I was immediately struck by her physical resemblance to his mother,
and Anette and I were charmed over the next two years and both thought that she
could be “the one.” Nick and Nicole went through a couple of turbulent years in
California with cheating on both sides, break-ups and finally a commitment to
each other and a move to Seattle to stake out their new lives together, where
they managed Ravish, a fancy restaurant with an appropriate name for their
love, together. In August of 2011 I flew out to Seattle for their wedding,
mementos of which we have decorating various places around our house.
Almost seven years later they are coming to Norway for the
second time. Everyone from our wedding in 2009 remembers them as Mickey and
Minnie Mouse (Kathrine’s nickname for them) and now we’re very excited for them
to see our situation in Drammen.
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