When my roommate in the Dallas, Environmental Health Unit had a seizure from a nurse's scent, I cried. A violent force wringed her from the inside. Her uniqueness disappeared as she became a writhing set of twisted bones and muscles. Medical persons surrounded her and administered the antidote. For a time, my roommate was unreachable.
Two years after my hospitalization for Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, I sustained further chemical injury from pesticides. I began having my own seizures. It started with a head shake or feet and legs shaking. My body's response was as unique as the poison that I was exposed to. Sometimes, one leg would be stiff, and I would drag it. The following is an inner dialogue that helped with my conflicting emotions.
"It is painless." said Consoling Self.
"Yes, painless physically, but . . . look, I'm a Frankenstein!" "What are you doing?" Critic said.
Body said, "This is it, you are walking like this, now."
Critic said, "Are you making this up? Do you want some attention? Are you trying to be funny?"
"Yeah, have fun!" said the Child. "Play Frankenstein! Your boyfriend just cracked a joke. Go with it!" I smile at my boyfriend.
Body says, "I walk like this."
"You'll be safe soon. Keep doing what you need to do." said the Wise.
"I handle seizures just fine." said Consoling Self.
A whopper of a seizure surprised me. I lived in a community where we all ate in the dining hall. The residents beautified this hall with a collection of plants donated by a new couple. The plant owners were organic gardeners, so I was assured that they were safe. At dinner my skin burned, but sometimes these symptoms subside. While the burning intensified, I considered leaving the room.
These people believe that the plants are safe. How bad can the chemical be? If I leave now, will I have to go through this again, tomorrow?
All conversation muted. The top half of my body slammed against the table over and over. After I paused, one of the plant owners held my elbow and guided me out the door. Others rolled out some foil for me to lie down. My arms and my head jerked. Residents stood around me. One owner of the plants washed the dishes. Does she think I faked this?
With relief, I wached them remove the plants the next day. The plant owners talked to me about it. Some plants had been given to them by a nursery because they were doing poorly. They found it hard to believe poisons were present because the plants were raised pesticide free for five years. Rumor had it that someone else thought I was possessed by a demon.
I hated it that they had to remove the plants. I think plants are beautiful. I did not want to "get my way." It was nothing personal. I reacted to a toxic chemical. Please understand. I just tried to get through it.