You hear all the time the stories of how someone so surprisingly found out about some condition that they have. They spent what felt like forever in the hospital, went through too much emotional trauma, and had to really push themselves through the experience. They learned to live with their condition/disease and from then on have been living a normal life. Those stories are always so inspirational. I can relate though my story is not quite the usual.
Someone told me the other day, “Man, you’ve been keeping yourself busy!” I realized at that exact moment, “Wow. Yeah, I guess I have.” In the past eight months, I started a club, became a H.O.P.E mentor, spoken at a high school for five different periods in one day about my own story, participated in a walk, started a teen support group, and changed my own perspective on the possibilities that I can open up. I look back and marvel and my own actions. “Have I really been doing that much since I found out?”
In late 2008, I started to feel funny. Sounds, odd but that’s how I described it at first. I kept getting these weird feelings about once a day that I found extremely difficult to explain because I forgot what happened as soon as they were over. The best description I could give my mother was, “there was this tingling or something.” They happened every day, once a day, at no specific time. I could only wait for it to come and hope it would not. But it would. It reached its worst when it happened during a birthday party. Not mine, thank goodness but it was still extremely embarrassing. I remember it so vividly (as cliché as that sounds). The party was for the baby of someone who used to be our neighbor. They now have a house down at the beach. It took place there. I was walking to the kitchen for desert when suddenly; my legs could no longer hold me up. I collapsed right in the entrance of the kitchen. Thank goodness my mother was right behind me. Like the beast she is, she dove for me. Her hands were right under my head, cradling it as I fell and lay between the kitchen and dining room. Like always, the spell only lasted a few seconds and I was back and feeling like crap. I immediately got up, looked around at the people staring at me wondering what the hell just happened then ran to the restroom to cry my eyes out. My mother stood outside, waiting on me and trying to comfort me through the door. I hated that, being comforted I mean. I hate when people try to comfort me. That is just how I am. I personally would rather do it myself than feel worse while they try to make me feel better.
That was the first time in public and the first time my mother got to witness it first hand. After that, it was doctor time. We could no longer try to figure it out ourselves. This thing was getting out of hand. We went to the emergency room and told them what was happening. Like before with my mother, I tried my best to explain how the “moments,” as my mother started to call them, felt. My memory of them became fuzzier the further from the last episode I was. We spent hours in the emergency room as they took blood and did a few tests I still am not sure about. It was the next day before they finally came in and told me what they thought it was and I could not believe it. I had epilepsy.
‘SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!’
My thoughts were something along those lines. What else was I supposed to be thinking? Just the other day, I figured it was just some random thing happening to me that would just go away. Now I had epilepsy? Did they have to put a frickin name to it? Wait a minute, would I be convulsing the next day? What I’ve been having aren’t seizures, were they? I just stared off into space and if I was standing, I fell. Is that epilepsy?
I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t concentrate. I could not believe what was happening to me. To my surprise, my mother looked more freaked out than I did. Then again, she was always the more expressive one. I just sat on the hospital bed, staring ahead in shock. Holy crapzits.
I don’t remember much after that. They gave me the most generic brand of epilepsy medicine, told me to see how it worked and check back if it did nothing then sent us on our way. My mother kind of forced me to stay with her at night so she could watch me. Apparently, I seize more in my sleep than that one time during the day. We waited a few days and watched. Nothing changed. The Keppra (Levetiracetam) did not seem to do anything to stop the “seizures.” It felt terrible to call them that! They actually increased in frequency which was extremely aggravating.
A few days after I left that emergency room, a guy at my school was having a birthday party, a really nice birthday party at a hotel with a cool runway and a photographer and a dance floor and the works. I had not talked to this guy since middle school (I’m in high school now) so imagine my surprise when I got an invitation. I almost did not go. Ironically, having epilepsy might have been my only reason for going. I wanted to prove to myself that this would not rule my life. I wanted to be able to go to a nice party, have fun and just forget about the epilepsy for the night. So here comes the party. I walk in looking like a boss. My mom just has to stop and tell the birthday boy’s mother that I had epilepsy and might have a “moment” but it would go away in a few seconds and I would be fine. It aggravated me because I wanted that to remain unknown but whatever, I would ignore that and just go in and have a good time. I walked in, putting on my most confident face. There was a photographer at the door, taking pics of people as they walked down the fake runway that ran from the door to the wall opposite it. I strutted a moment then took a seat close to the door (just in case). Things were fun. There was a slideshow of the birthday boy’s childhood which was absolutely adorable and hilarious that played for a little at the beginning.
Read on to learn more about the program:
http://www.allvoices.com/users/truquesttojordan
No comments:
Post a Comment