Epileptic Adventures

     I suppose it does baffle the mind to wonder why I haven't felt the need to sit down and write about this before. This August will mark the 5th year since I've had my first (at least that we know of) seizure. I'll never forget it. 2009. The first day of Fall Semester. My very first day at Florida State University.

     It wasn't until a day in 2010, while living in Los Angeles,  that we finally realized the insane blank stare, zombie walk and violent shaking were called, "seizures." I had a "spell" one morning before work. Went to work feeling terrible and woke up in an ambulance, where the paramedics told me I'd had a seizure. I said, "What is that?" right before passing out.

     And since then, we knew this was not a problem that would go away. We also realized that just because someone is 27, doesn't mean they won't develop epilepsy. I always thought it was something you were born with. But, apparently...that's fiction. 

   So, what's it like? Well, it's not fun. And the worst part is that people just don't understand. They do not realize how difficult it is to live a normal life with this condition. Most people do not consider it a disability and I receive no sympathy from teachers, bosses and sometimes even supposed "friends."

   If only they could understand. if only they could live just one day in my life...just one. Perhaps then, their attitudes would change....so let me lend a hand.

     She heard a faint voice in the distance, "Marsha...sweetheart..." Her head pounded her in ultimate revenge.  The voice got louder as she attempted to open her heavy eyes. A blurred image of someone lingered in front of her. "Marsha..." She did not respond. She didn't know who  "Marsha" was.  She didn't know where she was or who was speaking to her while staring at her with a look of concern. 

    Or did she?

    "Sweetheart, you had a seizure." 

    "Ugh...ugh...huh?"

    "I said you had a seizure. You had two. One around 3am and another about an hour ago."

    At first she couldn't understand the language. Then she remembered what the words meant, who was speaking and that she was Marsha. Then it dawned on her, what this meant. 

   "Oh no!" She wept loudly. She could feel the aftermath of the epileptic hurricane as her head pounded, her muscles ached and the terrible taste that lingered in her mouth became more evident.  

     This meant another day of not being able to maintain consciousness. This meant another "seizure day" and that more days would pass before she was fully recovered and could get back on her busy schedule.

     But unfortunately...life does not stop because of a seizure. There are still classes to attend, a job to go to. She had to go on despite the fact she risked leaving the house only to have another seizure without anyone to assist her. She had a test that day, and the memory erasing seizure had secured that she would not pass despite her hours of study. Nonetheless, she had to go on. 

     She had to go on as if she was the hero jumping in front of a car to save someone's life. She had to put herself together at least in an outward appearance to keep going forward with her journey in life. 

     Despite protest to her leaving, her husband dressed her, combed her hair and helped her make her way to the bus stop. From there...all he could do was pray that another seizure wouldn't befall her.

     To class she went...although needing help in remembering where the room was and what subject it was she was studying. She took the test that she didn't remember studying for. Then on to the next where the professor made fun of her when she said she didn't feel good because she was recovering from a seizure. 

    "What's to recover from?" The professor asked, "With seizures you just shake, right?."

    She wanted to rip the professor's soul out and put it inside her body so she could feel the aches, pains, burning electric tastes, smells, weakness and not being able to keep one's eyes open.

   But, she was used to people downplaying her troubles. She sniffed back a tear. Got through the 50 minutes of torture and headed on to her next task.

   She arrived at work feeling even more horrible. Normally after a seizure she has to sleep for several days just to be functional again. 

   She didn't tell any co-workers about her seizures that she'd had. It would do her no good anyway. She just did what she could while fighting the feeling that darkness would overtake her any second. 

    Finally it was time to go home. She began the walk. She returned all 5 of her husbands panicked calls to inform him she was okay and was heading home. He stayed on the phone with her as she walked.

   She arrived home and quickly passed out. She awoke the next day to her husband bringing her coffee. She still felt horrible, but she had to go to class.  Then she realized she had failed to finish all of her homework so she had to get it all done all while suffering through her pain.

   She succeeded as best she could. Knowing it was not her best work. 

   It would be several days before she would be back to normal and by that time she was so far behind in her assignments that she almost felt like giving up on everything: school, work...life. Ending it all seemed to be the solution.

  Eventually, she would pull herself out of the depression, get caught up on school work just in time for another "seizure day." 

   So for those out there that scoff at me when I say, I couldn't do something because I had a seizure day...just know that when a seizure strikes I lose days upon days of functionality. You can sit there and claim it's "not so bad" all you want. But, I know and the people who are close to me know exactly how debilitating a seizure really is.  Others may not nor do they care, but I believe that God understands and will punish them accordingly when their time on earth is done. For me, I believe he is making me stronger. I don't think any of those people would be able to handle it yet alone live to write the tale...