Reflections of an Epileptic
A few days ago I had the chance to enjoy some time with my middle daughter, who is (among many other things) epileptic. She recently made a conscious decision to adjust her meds in a way that improves her quality of life but somewhat increases the likelihood of seizures.
“At first it was strange,” she told me. “I kept imagining it would happen at any moment. I’d be going down stairs and think ‘Oh, no, what if I have a seizure?’ Or I’d be running for the bus and think ‘Wow, sure would suck if it happened now.“
She looked out the window as we drove around Lake Monona. “The thing about the seizures is, though, that I don’t ever feel them when they happen. I only wake up afterwards.”
I glanced over at her. “So, it never actually happens to you…you just at some point know that it has happened?”
“Exactly!” she nodded. “And that’s when I realized: it will never actually happen to me.”
“And the minute I realized that – the fear was gone.”
I love being a Grandpa. But only slightly less pleasurable is when your own child teaches you an invaluable lesson.