A few months ago I started having seizures. I didn’t know what was going on. They weren’t the obvious kind. They were simple to complex partial seizures and they were more deja vu than anything else. So I went to the doctor because at the time I thought I was crazy. I wanted it fixed. I was scared. I was also studying to be n OR assistant. Well when the doctors told me I was in fact having seizures I thought, “Okay, you are the crazy ones!”

I ended up leaving school because I ethically did not want to be in an OR with the possibility of having a tonic clonic (new name for gran mal) in the middle of surgery.

I finally got in to the neurologist. That alone took months. During that waiting period I was on medication that made me, well a zombie. My poor husband had to take over most of the responsibilities. By now, we also had to sit down with our three children and talk with them. Our children are 8, 5, and 3. The 3 year doesn’t really understand. At the time she was 2. The 5 year old was 4 and all we could really get across to him was to not touch mom and if he saw me shaking, don’t put anything in my mouth. They saw a funny show where one of the characters yelled, “I’m having a seizure, put a wallet in my mouth!” We had to stress that you DO NOT PUT ANYTHING into a persons’ mouth if they are in fact having a seizure.

Then my 8 year old. My poor 8 year old son. He understood that his job was to run to the neighbor, who luckily (or unluckily) also is epileptic and understands what to do. One day, while I was transitioning to my new medication, I had the worst seizure I had ever had. My head seized upwards uncontrollably and I was laying on the couch. I had to tell him if I fell off the couch to run to the neighbor. He was very scared but also very brave. Luckily he did not have to run over there.

After it was over we talked for a little bit, as long as an 8 year old boy would want to talk, and I was very surprised by how well he took it. He understands that things are different now. He knows that mom has seizures. He knows I have to take medicine to make sure I don’t have them. He knows to run next door. But he still can have fun and be a regular kid and poke his brother and bug me. I am thankful for that. I am happy that even after witnessing something as scary as that day, he is still a kid and not bothered.

We still do all the same things we did before. We don’t let it stop us. It is barely a topic of conversation in our house except as a joke. We have a lot of humor and I hope that helps our kids.