> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://orange-healing.ghost.io/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Losing Balance, Finding Myself: The Start of My Neurological Journey - URL: https://orange-healing.ghost.io/losing-balance-finding-myself-the-start-of-my-neurological-journey/ - Published: 2025-04-24T11:25:21.000Z - Updated: 2025-04-24T20:04:38.000Z - Author: Summer - Tags: My Story I just couldn’t make sense of anything. I had two projects to deliver, a house that needed cleaning, two cats and a partner to keep happy, and a stomach that wouldn’t stop growling. “Of course I have to think of everything!” Metal music was blasting in my ears as I dumped the dirty cat litter into the trash, expressionless. When I walked back into the house, something felt… off. But I couldn’t tell what it was. Still irritated, thinking of all the tasks I had to do, I searched for something to eat. But wait, I was on a diet. So, coffee and some nuts it was. “Damn this life! I’m juggling everything, and on top of that, I’m starving myself for a better body. I try to do two jobs at once, and what do I get in return? More work… Something’s gotta change.” As I was thinking this, I spilled some coffee. Swore at it too. I had exactly 19 nuts in my hand. I was eating them in a specific order, saving my favorites for last. First the walnuts, then almonds, then hazelnuts… completely unaware of the catastrophe waiting for me. My head was pounding. Despite everything, I was feeling a deep urge to sleep. My partner was getting ready for a meeting. “Wanna come with me?” “No, I’ll just sleep a bit.” Classic. Took a Parol and went to bed. I felt better when I woke up. I think. The cats had curled up beside me while I slept. I pet them for a long while, then realized I had a fever. I ignored it — another Parol and I’d be fine. That evening, my fever was still rising. And there I was, still cooking a meal from my diet list. Even sick, I couldn’t afford to lose form. I ate, popped another Parol, and went back to bed. Next morning, I woke up with full-body aches and no energy. I only had enough strength to prepare my diet breakfast. Banana, oats, peanut butter, yogurt… I don’t think I can ever eat those four together again. After the glorious breakfast, the fever came back. “I’ll sleep it off,” I told my partner. He wanted to take me to a doctor, but I always felt like a burden. He’d have to take the car and everything… I’d forgotten what being in a relationship even meant. Thankfully, he insisted, and we went to a doctor. The usual: IV fluids, bloodwork, “respiratory infection” diagnosis. Three prescriptions, one being an antibiotic. I still had a fever, but I thought the meds would fix it. Except I couldn’t take them. Why? One antibiotic could cause an allergic reaction, the other could interact with my existing medication. So I was stuck with Parol again. The next day I went to the family doctor to change the meds. I didn’t overthink it and took them. But I was still burning. The meds weren’t working. That night, something really strange happened. I got up to go to the bathroom and almost collapsed. On the way back, I actually did fall. I could barely walk. Next morning, I tried to go to the kitchen for breakfast. Terrible pain, fever, weakness. I couldn’t stand up. I threw myself onto a chair. My heart rate slowed down, I felt like vomiting. I tilted to the left, slumped in the chair. Suddenly, sweat poured from every part of me. Soaked, I tried to eat the breakfast my partner had prepared. “You okay?” he asked. “Yep, totally fine.” I couldn’t get up. While lying in bed, I was still trying to apply for sick leave from work. I wrote the request email with great difficulty and sent it off. Things got worse. I couldn’t stand up easily anymore. My partner checked my fever. “You’ve got a 40°C fever,” he said. I didn’t believe him. “This thermometer’s broken!” I insisted. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe *anything*. By evening, I finally accepted that something was seriously wrong. My partner took me to a private hospital, thinking it would be better. Same routine there: fluids, fluids, blood tests, brain MRI. Then something weird happened — they found a lesion in my brain. I started laughing uncontrollably. “Nah, can’t be anything serious! Hahaha.” I kept laughing even when the doctor said the treatment would be expensive. Back home, I still thought I’d get better. As if it was the end of the world, I kept laughing. That evening, my speech started to falter. For some reason, I couldn’t see things up close either. When we went to bed, my partner asked if I needed anything. I asked to go to the bathroom one last time. And we slept. Well, *he* did. My body didn’t. A few hours later, I had to go to the bathroom again. I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t see my phone screen clearly. I ended up calling my mom by mistake. “Why are you calling at this hour?” she asked, and I screamed “Hang up!” My voice sounded strange, even I couldn’t understand myself. Eventually I found my partner’s number, but he didn’t answer. I tried going to him myself but fell again. It was pitch dark. I crawled, holding onto chairs. I fell a few more times. But I didn’t give up. How could he not hear me? Especially like this? I couldn’t grip the door handle. I screamed as loud as I could and fell again. My legs hurt. He opened the door shouting — he always yells when woken up. But this time I was terrified. I was passed out on the floor, crying as he helped me to the bathroom. The next morning, we both *finally* realized something was very wrong. And we headed to the hospital. That day… everything changed.