Ominous.
The only word I've found to come close to describing how it feels when we know a seizure is brewing.
Ominous hangs in the air when he incessantly yawns and expresses fatigue. We have learned that these are looming seizure markers. Ominous follows us up and down the stairs while I'm always making sure, often to his chagrin, to put my body between his and falling. Ominous has us jumpy because he's hungry and it would be inhumane to tell him no eating until the seizure passes, seeing as we don't know exactly when it will come. It could be in a minute or it could be in an hour. All we know is that it's ominously looming. Ominous sits beside me while I watch him play the Wii in the early morning hours because it's an easy way to keep him contained when he's restless; when his body can't relax because he too is subconsciously aware of the ominous in the room.
The seizure finally came while he was laying in bed watching Kids' YouTube. I was stretched across the foot of the bed because he can't be alone; especially when there is a hint of ominous in the air. The force of his legs pushing outward in the tonic stretch, literally, pushed me off the end of the bed. I outweigh him by quite a bit. Thankfully neither of us were hurt, but it still shocked and frightened me.
Thankfully, the seizure, though quite violent, ended quickly. It was gone nearly as quickly as it came and so was that "pit in the stomach" ominous aura. For now.
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