When My World Flipped Upside Down. (Pt.2)

Part two.

The Dragon’s In The Sky

If the first seizure was a lightning bolt, the days that followed were the rolling thunder—beautiful, eerie, and impossible to ignore.

Costa Rica has a way of making you feel small in the best way possible. In Uvita, we lived in a literal dream: a house that was more treehouse than building, with no walls, just rich wood and screens. At night, I didn't need a white noise machine. I had the "clink-clank" of smooth, black river rocks being tossed by the tide, a rhythmic, metallic lullaby that made me forget, just for a moment, that my marriage was a house of cards.

Then there were the Macaws. Now, if you know me, you know I am irrationally, soul-deep terrified of birds. But these? They weren't birds; they were graceful, feathered dragons gliding in pairs across a neon-blue sky. They mate for life, you know. I’d watch them and feel that familiar pang of irony. Here I was, preparing for the end of my "forever.”

But the nature was healing. Capuchin monkeys bounced through the trees after rainstorms, and howler monkeys watched us eat dinner with judgmental curiosity. We felt... okay. Almost.

The Coffee and the Climb

As we packed up for Monteverde, we sat over breakfast, playing the "What Was That?" game.

"Maybe it was low glucose?" I suggested. The food there is so clean you can practically taste the lack of chemicals.

"Maybe the heat?" "Should we see a doctor?"

"It only happened once," we agreed. "Let’s just see."

Famous last words.

I downed two cups of hot coffee—brilliant move in 90-degree humidity—and we started the winding trek into the mountains. As the roads began to twist, so did my equilibrium. That "offness" from the boat returned, but this time it was louder.

I felt stuck. My heart began to race, sweat pooling at the back of my neck. I was fighting a mental war, trying to anchor myself to the seat, but my head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The last thing I remember was the sheer physical exhaustion of trying to stay here.

I woke up to Simon cupping my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek. I saw something in his eyes I hadn't seen in a long time: Fear, yes, and genuine love. I was trembling, bone-chilled despite the tropical heat. He cranked the car’s heater to full blast while I drifted back into a heavy, dark sleep.

High Altitudes and Low Points

By the time we reached our mountain home—a stunning villa with a balcony overlooking a sea of green—I was back to "normal." Well, as normal as you can be when you’ve just peed on the side of a mountain road because your tiny bladder couldn't wait another second. (At least it wasn't a chip bag this time. Progress!)

Simon, bless him, was trying. "Maybe you're just stressed," he said, suggesting a balcony massage. It was heaven... mostly. It’s hard to reach Zen when your husband is five feet away loudly discussing the contractor who just stole $25,000 from your business back home. Nothing says "Zen” like legal drama and grand larceny, right?

Still, I woke up the next day determined. We were going to the Monteverde Cloud Forest. We were going to walk the hanging bridges. We were going to find a sloth.

We stepped onto the dirt path, but my body seemed to have had other plans. I slowed down. My left eye began to droop, and the color drained from my face. Simon caught me, pulling me against him, forcing me to sit and drink water.

"Should we turn around?" he asked, his voice tight.

"No, damn it," I snapped. "We waited two years for this. We are seeing it all."

We did see the bridge. We saw a mother howler monkey with a baby on her back, letting out a primal, terrifying scream that echoed through the canopy. We never did find a sloth, but we did find the Monteverde Brewing Company—and honestly, their wings are a spiritual experience of their own.

The Flicker of Hope

That night, sitting across from Simon at the brewery, the weight of the last few days settled on me. I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt a wave of profound gratitude.

"Thank you for helping me through all this," I said quietly.

I felt a messy cocktail of emotions: sadness that my body was "ruining" the trip, confusion about these glitches in my brain, and a sudden, sharp realization. I really loved this man. Despite the "it’s over" epiphany in Jaco, seeing him catch me as I fell changed the frequency.

Maybe we could figure this out. Maybe that’s all I needed to know and I’ll be better.

Little did I know that it was going to get much worse for me but end in an odd fairytale for us.

Explained by Neurologist, Dr. Carolyn Taylor

Author - Samantha Mandell, RTT Practitioner