Tuesday, February 9, 2016

If your daughter has epilepsy...

     Do not be afraid to share my stories with her.
     Instead, find my mistakes and teach your daughter not to repeat them, please.
 For example...
     I didn't believe my disease would take away my consciousness until I drove my car into a concrete house on Okinawa in 1995.
     It was the scariest day of my life up to that point.
     I barely made it back onto a military base or else it could've been a bigger mess.
     Because they drive on the left in Japan, I didn't hafta cross through five lanes of traffic to make it to the gate before passing out. I didn't insult my host country by causing a major accident:-)
     I saw the guard, and
    "We made it through," was my last conscious thought until
     I came back again,
     And it was over.
     Even after that, I didn't go back on Depakote because I was worried it might hurt Tommy.
     My neurologist thought I was crazy.
     When I woke up on my kitchen floor with Jimi standing over me, telling me to get up, I  realized Seth was right...Not about the crazy part, but about me going back on Depakote.
     He knew it was the safest thing for both of us at that point in my pregnancy, and I didn't trust his expertise. My decision was based on fear, and it was wrong.
     Before Ronnie was born in 1999, I planned just as carefully as I did the other times. That's one rule I followed. Your daughters can, too, especially these days.
     My big sister said I had to plan my pregnancies, always, when she explained the disease to me at the age of 22. The warnings are right on the packages, lots of them.
     I went back on Depakote even earlier with Ronnie, after waking up in the middle of the night feeling "that way" a few times..in my fourth month, I think.
     I didn't wait for them to visit me in the daytime, too, because I didn't want to fall down and hurt him that way.

     Share this story, please, so your daughter will be unafraid of this disease, like me, but more cautious in how she handles it.
     My breed of epilepsy sounds tame compared to what she is dealing with.
     Mine is an old friend to me, as weird as that sounds.
     I want your daughter to see her dreams come true, minus the scary wake-up calls.
     Her seizures sound sooooooooooooo scary to me.
     Mine aren't scary enough, which is the sweet, bitter pill I swallow every morning as I feel my mind calling out to them while I brew coffee.
     It tastes so much better than the new ones I swallow at night to keep them away.