|Skeletal and labyrinthine|
I received an email from MedScape this morning with Targeting Pharmacoresistant Epilepsy and Epileptogenesis in the subject line. This was the exact title of the article referenced, and I shrank when I saw it. My mind wanders to wondering. The names for drugs and the words cobbled together by the Science Powers That Be make me squirm. I can't find their definitions in the dictionary. There are, apparently, not even suggestions for these words or even substitutes. I do like the word confusticate, as referenced above. It means to confuse or perplex; bewilder.
Epileptogenesis is the gradual process by which a normal brain develops epilepsy. Pharmacoresistant epilepsy can be practically defined as failure to achieve seizure freedom following adequate trials of two tolerated and appropriately chosen AEDs.
The weight of metaphor.
Oh, to be a person who embraces literalism.
I love the word skeletal. I love the word labyrinthine. Our Chinese flame tree has finally dropped all but a few clumps of brown leaves, and its branches reach up to the blue sky and cast skeletal shadows on the grass, the patterns labyrinthine.
I hate the word pharmacoresistant. I hate the word epileptogenesis. Sophie's seizures resist a vast pharmacy of chemicals, and the gradual process by which she acquired epilepsy - - the epileptogenesis and resultant pharmacoresistance -- have stripped me to the bone, rendered me skeletal, clanking and clinking the labyrinthine paths.
Intimidating Words, Part 1