I’m coming to realization that I’ve been traumatized since being diagnosed with epilepsy. That I live with fear on daily basis. Let me explain why.
Having grand mal seizures is one of the worst things that can happen to a human. You never know when it’s going to happen and when you come out of one, your brain is so discombobulated, you can barely function.
The last grand mal seizure I had was back in January. When I came out of it, I didn’t even know what year it was. The ambulance attendants weren’t going to take me to the hospital at first but when I told them that it was 2009, I was trussed up like a hog and hauled off to the emergency room.
My son told me that I was sitting on my bed, just shaking and screeching with my eyes rolling around in my head. He just held me until the ambulance came. Just imagine his trauma. Seeing your mother like that.
I have had two seizures outside of my home. Once while waiting on an Uber outside of the local Walmart and one at work. When I had the seizure outside of Walmart and came to, I was in the back of the ambulance and my first instinct was to start fighting the attendants. I mean I woke up alone with two burly white men surrounding me. Life ain’t no fairytale.
The one at work happened while sitting at my desk. My co worker told me that I was just sitting there when I hit the floor convulsing and foaming at the mouth. It was so hard returning back to work knowing that the people I work with saw me at my absolute worst.
So I’ve come to realize that I have been incredibly traumatized by these events. I live in fear that I’m going to have a seizure while riding public transportation. While walking down the street surrounded by complete strangers. When I had that seizure almost three years ago outside of Walmart, it was a different time in history but now it’s different. People have gone completely feral and have thrown off all semblance of civility. If I had a seizure outside of my home or work, it is likely I would end up on social media buck ass naked with my personal possessions stolen and molested. These are the times we are living in.
Two years ago, my son moved to LA because he accepted an offer from TSA. Found an apartment and was doing fantastic but abruptly, he resigned. Told me that he was tired of dealing with the public but I believe that he was worried about my health and wanted to be near me. I feel guilty, so guilt ridden.
My baby girl hovers around me like an old mother hen and I’m feel guilty for that. She’s a beautiful young woman who is about to graduate from college next month but she spends her weekends underneath me.
I’m traumatized and I’ve traumatized my children. I live in fear and so they. I do my best not to beat myself up about being an epileptic but it’s hard, so damn hard. My biggest fear is dying from a seizure, and not seeing the people I love again. Leaving my children, grandchildren, friends, and other family. I’m not a spring chicken but I still have a lot of living to do. Places to visit, people to love. I want to live damn it that’s all.
The Potty Mouth Granny 