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*Whoaw*, that last log really gave me the positivity boost I needed. Why do I say so? Because right after my birthday, everything seemed to be falling back into place. My therapies were slowly beginning to show results and my recovery graph was slowly but steadily showing the direction that we wanted – upwards, and for a moment we were all getting happy. Everyone believed that “operation: birthday” was working its wonders. All my therapies had resumed at their regular (if not more intensive) rate. Everything seemed to be going perfect and this “state of wellbeing” stayed for about a week. However, like they say, things were going too good to be true. The robotics was going  pretty well too – hey, I was getting to play videogames even in the hospital! I was also enjoying my music therapy as I got to play instruments I had never seen before, it was on one such music therapy session after about 1 week since my birthday that it happened. “But What?”, you may ask? Take a guess. No, I insist. Ok fine, I think I might as well give it to you now. It was during my music therapy session that I got my second seizure which was also a Code Blue. Let me explain the “hospital terminologies”, as I like to call it. A “Code Blue” is generally used to indicate a patient requiring resuscitation or in need of immediate medical attention, most often as the result of a respiratory arrest or cardiac arrest (Source: Wikipedia) What exactly did happen for them to announce a Code Blue, you ask? Well it kind of happened like this – I was in the music therapy room, trying out a new instrument that I had never played before – the Conga (an African drum). Having briefly learned the Tabla a few years before this rollercoaster ride, I always had a thing for percussion instruments. I first tried it with my right hand to get a feel of the instrument, and then my music therapist and my sister encouraged me to try it with my left hand. As I started to try playing the Conga with my left hand, my index finger started twitching. My audience had a brief moment of happiness at this, as until this point, my left hand was barely moving and my fingers were barely opening. And before you knew it, so was my wrist. Before the seizure reached my forearm my sister immediately noticed it and immediately alerted the therapist to call the nurse. Now my therapist was new to the hospital atmosphere, and didn’t realize that it was a seizure. By the time the nurse arrived, the seizure had already spread into a full blown GTCS (if you remember what that is, log 12) and she immediately called for a Code Blue. Meanwhile, another nurse and my sister struggled to place something between my teeth (I was as stiff as a rock within seconds) to ensure that I did not bite my tongue and choke on my own blood. The emergency team arrived within a minute of the Code Blue announcement and stabilized me, kicking everyone else out of the room. And once I was stabilized they shifted me to the emergency ward. While all of this was happening inside the music therapy room, my mother had already rushed up to our ward to get my emergency medication, so she missed out on most of the action and met me directly in the emergency ward. Now this music therapy room was located on the same floor as the other neuro rehab therapies. Apparently, the relatives of my other “patient” friends also came rushing to the scene after the Code Blue announcement to check if I was ok, very briefly leaving their own respective humans with the therapists, as they knew I was the one having music therapy then. The irony, after this little show, was that after this happened my music therapist already had about a few days of leave scheduled right after. All my other therapists on noticing his absence, naturally correlated it with the only logical cause. They started teasing me that I scared him into taking leave. Maybe I did or maybe I didn’t….Guess we will never know… did I even know whether this  seizure was going to be the last one???