Forgotten Threat

When normal turns dangerous.

I’ve gotten used to having seizures. In fact, at this point I’ve had them for pretty much my entire life. Still... this last cluster was extremely difficult and terrifying to face. Not just for me, but for those around me as well.

I’ve always taken it for granted that I’ll come out okay. After all, I always have. It’s just been another day for me.

That normalcy is what makes it dangerous.

I rarely let anyone take me to the hospital because I assume I’ll be fine and that there’s nothing they can really do for me anyway. But what about the fractures, the cuts, the trauma? I’ve spent years brushing all of that aside.

When I was younger, it wasn’t unusual for me to have four to seven seizures in a single day. Cuts and bruises covered my body. Concussions became normal.

As I’ve gotten older, my seizures have become less frequent, and my medications have helped more than they’ve hurt. It’s become easy to forget that I have epilepsy because it’s simply been part of my life for so long. Then, every once in a while, something like this happens and reminds me just how real it still is.

This last cluster of seizures, just three of them—almost left me with permanent injuries or worse because of where they happened. Being trapped inside my own mind while next to a pit was one of the most terrifying experiences I’ve had.

I nearly fell straight into a pit about fifteen feet deep, filled with concrete and coated with a slippery layer of oil. I was only saved because my stepdad pulled me back to safety, injuring himself in the process while trying to keep me away from the edge as I convulsed.

It also reminded me of something I sometimes forget—not every seizure comes with an aura. That day, there was no warning. It simply happened.

Here I am, almost a week later, still recovering, still trying, and still showing up to my doctors. It’s been a journey, and it’s one I’m still walking.

Thank you for your patience.

I’ll see you soon.

Much love,

Cory.