The Week Mama Tried to Ignore the Plot (Friday Takeover)

Content Notes: seizures, ambulance transport, hospital visit, medical emergency, chronic illness flare, medical testing, anxiety

Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid.
Disability. Chronic illness. Service dogs. Survival without the performance.

If you’re new here, hi.
I’m Luna Bean.

Medical alert service dog.
Certified Good Girl.
Full-time nervous system supervisor.

Mama’s body is… dramatic.
My job is to notice before it steals the spotlight.

I alert to migraines.
Seizures.
Heart rate spikes.
Muscle spasms.
And any vibes suspicious enough to deserve a second opinion.

I interrupt spirals.
I apply Deep Pressure Therapy like it’s a sacred ritual.
I’m learning to retrieve things Mama drops when hands stop cooperating.

Some call me a dog.
Others call me medical equipment.
Mama calls me her freedom.

I consider myself a very important partner.
Maybe even a sidekick.

Most days move slowly. Some happen from Bed Jail™.
That’s fine. I’m excellent at staying close and making sure Mama doesn’t drift too far away from herself.

There’s also M&M.
Mama #2.
Belly-rub giver. Treat distributor. Emotional support human.
She belongs to both of us.

This space is for chronic illness without shame.
Disability without performance.
Care without conditions.

(Yes, there will be fur.)

If you’ve been here before, welcome back.
If you’re new, you’re safe here.

Welcome to the Lunatic Café.

On Today’s Menu: When the Week Pretended to Behave

This was one of those weeks that starts out looking manageable.

And then halfway through, you realize you’ve been lied to.

Sometimes the story changes without asking us first.

Tuesday: The Compass Appears

Mama’s older brother came over.

That wasn’t a bad thing, he comes over sometimes during the week to play games with the Yard Yeti. He plays with me too. He also pets me and calls me a good girl, this is always the right thing to do.

He finally has a nickname because I have decided he is not evil after all.

We’ll call him The Compass.

He runs a diving business, pulls people’s phones out of the harbor, drives Uber sometimes, and helps us get where we need to go. Store trips. Appointments. Navigation through chaos.

It fits.

I tried “The Captain” first because he technically is one, but it sounded like a bad movie title and we don’t overdo puns here. Only the medically necessary ones.

Mama and Mama #2 made homemade mac and cheese.
Everyone was warm. Fed. Calm.

A suspiciously peaceful evening.

Wednesday: Red Flags Ignored by the Resident Cryptid

You’d think Monday would be the dangerous day.

Wrong.

Wednesday arrived wearing fake innocence.

Mama had to leave the house without me.

Yes. I know.
Red flag. Stop sign. Do not pass go. Go directly back to Bed Jail™.

But sometimes life doesn’t ask for permission.
And sometimes even working dogs can’t go everywhere. Service Dog discrimination is real. Mama has appointments and places that don’t always allow me, and that never makes me happy.

M&M and I stayed behind.

Mama wasn’t feeling good. I knew it. I said so with my whole body.

She still had errands and an echocardiogram appointment.

She never made it there.

Instead, Mama had a three-minute seizure and got taken away in an ambulance.

Four hours in the hospital. Alone.

M&M was scared. Of course she was. We didn’t have anyone nearby to bring her to Mama, so I stayed with her and did my other job: anxiety mitigation.

I held the fort.
She held hope.

The hospital handled Mama.
I handled home.

That’s teamwork.

Coming Home

When Mama came back, she smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion.

I greeted her at the door like she’d been gone for a thousand years.

Did I try to crawl inside her skin? Possibly. Allegedly.

M&M got her into pajamas and straight into bed.

That’s when my real shift started.

Deep Pressure Therapy.
Grounding work.
Monitoring breathing while we watched TV.

Soup appeared. Ginger ale was summoned by Instacart magic.

Mama fell asleep while I stayed anchored across her legs, keeping her nervous system from wandering off without supervision.

Mama #2 had to bribe me with soup remnants to get me to leave her alone when it came to eating my own dinner that night.

Friday: The EEG Saga Begins

Today around 4pm, techs are coming to install an EEG that will stay on Mama’s head for three days.

We’re hoping it gives answers about the seizures.
Just like the six-day wearable heart monitor was supposed to explain why she keeps passing out.

We have the heart monitor results now.
Haven’t talked to the cardiologist yet. That appointment is in March.

But she does have the Biocare Health study report, and she knows how to read test results. So she has a good idea of what they mean. At least there’s that.

Mama is not thrilled about having something glued to her again.
Her MCAS hates adhesives.

Her nervous system will most likely contact HR.
I expect complaints.

I also expect to be extra vigilant.
New smells. New stress. New sensations.

We’re not looking for perfection.
Just information.
Information is another kind of care.

But I trust myself to be a good girl.

I always am.

A Note From the Supervisor

If something here felt familiar, you’re not alone.

If today asked too much of you, rest anyway.

You don’t have to earn care.
You don’t have to prove pain.
You don’t have to be productive to be worthy.

I’ll be right here.

Watching Mama’s breathing.
Listening for quiet shifts.
Ready to interrupt, ground, or curl up wherever needed.

If you want to spoil me, Mama made me an Amazon wishlist.
No expectations. Ever.
It’s just there for people who like sending love in chew-toy or ball form.

PS: If Mama says she’s fine, I will be accepting second opinions.

Until next Friday,
Luna 🐾

© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.
(Absolutely dog fur and puppy love.)

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

No pressure to donate. Reading and sharing count.
If you want to support the long, unglamorous work of survival and mobility:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility