Adding to my popularity

After we got back home that day, I got to sit in the red chair and watch TV and drink pepsi. Usually I was only allowed Kool-aid; the soda was for parents only, but it was a special day.

Mom told me that all the tests didn't exactly tell them what was wrong with me, but ruled some things out. What the doctor said to her was, "Well, at least we know what it isn't."

She told me that I had had a seizure. She explained it to me by comparing my brain to television signals.
"You know how the cable goes out sometimes honey? The TV station is sending out the signal, but something happens and our TV doesn't get it? And then we just have snow? That's a little like what happens when you have a seizure. Your brain sends signals to the rest of your body; to move, to smile, to think. When you have a seizure, your brain is still sending the signals, but they aren't connecting where they are supposed to. So, for a few moments you have "snow" and that creates a seizure."

She was using the tips of her fingers, connecting the left tips with her right tips to show when things were connecting properly, and then interlocking them to show when they didn't meet at the right place. My mom was always really good at explaining stuff.

Okay then. So why'd it happen? The tests had ruled out high fever, or a brain tumor, or cancer, all which can cause a seizure. What they did show was that I had Epilepsy. Something about my brain waves being out of whack. Mom said I had Grand Mal Epilepsy, which meant I was fully unconscious, when I had a seizure, and thrashed around. My lips had turned blue because I had stopped breathing briefly, and I had been drooling as well.

Oh boy. This didn't sound so great. She said I'd have to be very careful until they got the medication right, because I could really hurt myself if I had another seizure when I was swimming or up high or by myself. I had no idea what kind of changes were in store for me because of this.

Back to other folks. Remember that my whole neighborhood, which was full of kids, was awakened by my early morning adventure. Although I wasn't at school that day, everybody else was.
"Did you hear? Becky S _____'s heart stopped."
"I heard she had a heart attack."
"My mom said she stopped breathing."
"I live on her street, I know what happened. She took a drug overdose."

Ten year olds have very strong imaginations. The teachers in my grade had a meeting with the students to make sure that rumors didn't keep flying around. However, since they didn't really know what happened, they didn't help either.

"Becky has had some kind of accident, but we need to remember that she's another kid just like any of you. She might act differently when she gets back to school, but we have to all treat her the same as before today."

This wasn't necessarily the best advice, considering that I was picked on quite mercilessly before all this. I was a smart mouth, and a cry baby, and I didn't have too many friends to begin with.

Telling my Nana, my dad's mother, was also a challenge.

"Epilepsy? She seems like such a bright girl."

Because of course, if I had "spells" I must be retarded.

So, after switching from the top bunk to the bottom bunk (I might fall out if I had a seizure and was still up high), nothing else at home changed that much. I was taking Dialentin and Phenobarbital twice a day, and mom made a check chart for me so I wouldn't forget if I had taken it or not.

Back to school the next day. I was not allowed to be alone, ever, and I wasn't to do P.E. until they figured out what triggers, if any, caused the seizures. Kids made a wide berth around me, and the teachers were solicitous, but I doubt most of them understood what Epilepsy was. Some kids were cruel.

I wasn't allowed to even go to the girl's room alone, so I had to ask a teacher to go with me. A few days after I came back, I told Mrs. Moore I had to go. She was busy, and turned to Terri Brown, another girl in my class,

"Terri, could you go with Becky to the bathroom? She should have someone with her."

"What do you need me for? To pull down your pants?" I'm sure she was reprimanded, but all I recall are the peals of laughter from the rest of the kids in the room.

During recess, I wasn't allowed to play on the bars or the swings or even on the black top because I "might get hurt." I played jacks with Carly Little's sister Janie, most of the time. I didn't really like her, but I didn't have a lot of choices in the friends department.

One day, about a week later, I was inside coloring while everyone else was out doing P.E. The student teacher was inside too, but around the corner, working on something as well.

Next thing I knew, I was on the floor, looking up at Mrs. Moore. I turned to the window, and there I saw 23 ten-year-old faces crammed against it, staring in at me. Oh great. I'd had another one. The student teacher had freaked out, left me there, and gone running out on the field, "Mrs. Moore! Becky's had another one! She's having a seizure right now!"

That's the way to stay calm. Mr. Metcalf, the principal of our school carried me to his little VW Bug (remember, we didn't have a second car?) and drove me home. Usually I was scared of him, but he seemed the only adult at school that didn't care about my "special circumstances."

Someone else who didn't care was my younger sister, Amy. She insisted that right before I had my first seizure that morning with the Lego's, I had given her the miniature oriental rug I had been using for my dolls. She said that I forgot because of the seizure. She is now 39 years old and still claims that I did. I remembered everything else right up to the seizure, so I just as vehemently have denied this.

She and her friend Ellie were with me when I had my third seizure. We were walking to school in the morning, and they were a bit ahead of me. They heard me fall on the sidewalk, and Amy yelled for her friend to run to school to get someone. Amy stayed with me while I did my thing. Eight years old, and she had more presence of mind than the goofy student teacher days earlier. She did yell at Ellie to run faster though.

My principal came again, and got me into the car and drove me home. Amy was annoyed because after her heroics, she had to still go to school, while I got to stay home.

I hurt myself that time, because I had fallen on my head on the concrete. My shoulder, elbow and face were all bruised. I looked like I had been in a car accident. My mom must have been worried sick about me, but she never showed it. I don't remember her ever making a big deal about my seizures, although she was normally the most cautious mother around.

That was the last seizure. They got the medication right, and for the next five years I took pills, went in for quarterly EEG's, and by fifteen, I was "normal" again.

Whatever that means.