I missed writing my blog yesterday because I was at the hospital with my son. I have mentioned before that my youngest son is epileptic and yesterday, he suffered a major seizure. He’s okay. Other than some lumps and bumps from hitting himself on the hard floor of our local YMCA, where he works, he has mostly physically recovered. Emotional recovery will take a while longer. Yesterday, my son had his hopes finally dashed that he could wean himself off of his medicine forever, and live a “normal” life. All of our hopes for this outcome, were put to rest yesterday. Our family had one of our familiar wounds ripped open, and it will take some time to let it heal over again. The fragility of life and how little control we really have over anything, seems to be the theme this year, at every level of life, down to our family unit.
I’m very emotionally raw right now. My son’s biggest dream was to have outgrown his condition. His epilepsy diagnosis is something that we have been dealing with, working with, wrapping our heads around, for over six years now. His excellent response to his medicine cocktail (which took a while to find the right one – every epileptic person is unique, in what works for them), tricked us into believing that his brain had calmed down enough to say good-bye to the random electrical storms, stirring in his brain, forever, without the crutch of medicine. Medicines aren’t necessarily perfect miracles and we were eager to see if my son could be safe and healthy without his epilepsy medicine, and so with the blessing of his neurologist, we started the weaning process. My son’s seizure medication has a trunk load of side effects, including hair loss, weight gain, lethargy and a big tax to his liver, to name just a few. Still, after what we experienced yesterday, we’ll take these unkind side effects, in order to go back to the strong reassurance that these medicines have the ability to keep these scary and dangerous seizures at bay. (Before trying to wean from his medication, my son was seizure free for about four years.)
Seizures are terrifying to witness, so from a selfish point of view, I am grateful that I did not have to witness yesterday’s seizure. The head of the local YMCA called us and told us that the paramedics had taken my son via ambulance to our local hospital. We have been through this drill before. We knew what to expect. The miserable new wrinkle is that we were stopped at the door to the lobby of the hospital, only to be told that we could not go inside to be with our son, due to COVID concerns. That little wrinkle almost put me over the top.
We all have our burdens to bear. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Uncertain has always been my least favorite state of being, so during this period of trying to wean my son from the meds, we all have had a heightened sense of insecurity. Thankfully, we can go back to the security that his medicine has afforded us for the last four years. We can close the “what if” chapter, for now. We can focus on the “what is” chapter, and look for the healthiest ways to heal ourselves and each other.
Yesterday’s outcome could have been so much worse. I am very aware of that fact and I am very grateful. Most epileptics recover from their seizures just fine – the bigger concern is what they are doing when a seizure happens. Drownings, falling from high places, car accidents are really the biggest concern for most people with epilepsy. Thankfully, my son was in a safe place, surrounded by people who knew about his condition and care about him deeply.
I’ve always been very open on this blog. I’ve opened my fragile heart to you today. Please handle it carefully. Please take today to be very kind to anyone you meet. We really don’t know what trials other people are going through. We humans tend to be really good at “faking it.” And with everything going on in the world today, there is a whole lot more of us out there “faking it” than ever before. Be mindful of this fact, and please be kind. Be kind to yourself and be kind to others. We all have the power to be kind, and that power is more uplifting, and more reassuring and more inspirational, than almost any other power in the world because kindness is rooted in Love.
Sending you and your family lots of love Kelly!
Thank you, Vicki, my dear friend!
Kelly,
Thinking of you and your son…and your whole family.
I’m praying for you all.
Thank you, Joan.
Have you considered a medical detection dog? They alert when a seizure is nearing.
Thank you, Carly. Yes, we have, but luckily, when my son is on his meds, he is seizure free, so that is not a worry.
Oh, Kelly, my mama’s heart goes out to you. What your family has experienced is scary and traumatic and disappointing all wrapped up in one big ball of yuck.
One of my clients who is also a dear friend is epileptic and she too had been attempting to wean from medication and has been largely unsuccessful. I’ve only experienced being with her during a small seizure, but it’s unnerving to watch. The feeling of helplessness is overwhelming. Add to that your Mama Bear instincts and I can’t imagine the torture in your soul.
Please keep focusing on your gratitude for your son’s life, and for him being surrounded by loving people who knew what to do in a moment of panic and uncertainty. Amplify that energy all around you bringing healing and joy to your family circle. I suspect that is something you do well, and it’s time for you to unleash the power in it’s full glory! Peace to you, my friend.
Thank you, Kelly, so perfectly worded, as usual. <3
I’m sorry your son and your family had that experience. But i like what you said about dealing now with “what is” and moving forward. On the other hand, dealing with “what if” can be fraught with anxiety. Sending you a virtual hug
Thank you, Gail. There is something freeing about acceptance.
I am so sorry to hear about your son…and thankful he was not hurt worse.
(((hugs)))
Stay Strong.
Thank you, Carla. <3