Support is everywhere. We demand it with technology, plead for it for our causes, and pay for it in our bras. We seek support for personal issues. And nothing is so personal as health. 

I have a few pesky chronic health issues that are under control. A  serious one without a solution will get worse, and then there is my Epilepsy.

The pesky problems are easy; I even forget them when asked about my medical history. For the serious one, my support is laughing about it with my cousins; who else could find humor in the danger of hereditary numb feet that can result in amputation or death, except related numbskulls?

As for relations, Epilepsy joined my life shortly after my youngest child was born. When that baby boy grew up, my 28 years as a full-time parent was over. With a wave goodbye to the back of a U-Haul, I was retired, and it was time to properly greet my buddy, Epilepsy.

Epilepsy is different from other health issues; it brings daily uncertainty and needs constant care and monitoring. It changed over the years, caused me to doubt reality, and cost me my driver’s license. It brings depression, teaches, and confuses. It is an annoyance and an excuse. It is a disability no one else sees and is impossible to describe.

My seizures are language-based; words will lose meaning, letters lose sound, and people can lose identity. I am only aware of Epilepsy when I am involved in language activities, but that doesn’t mean I do not have seizures at other times. I have not gone eight months since 2004 without a known seizure. They are becoming more frequent.

During the first 18 years Epilepsy was around, I was busy with children and gave it the minimum attention. I put it in the pesky category. But as I paid more attention to it, I came to the realization Epilepsy had a bigger impact on my life than I had thought. I needed knowledge and support.

I sought knowledge through doctors, tests, and research. Through meeting with doctors and my research, I did get answers. The group of answers included the fact that I wasn’t alone and that there were support groups. Wham! What a concept! What a relief! I got the courage to attend a meeting. I was welcomed, and I was normal there.

It is reassuring to know other people got along without being able to drive. 

Looking at Epilepsy with the wisdom of others’ shared context makes having it less burdensome. I need the support. Epilepsy isn’t going anywhere; it will be with me every step of the way.

I wish I could say life is a highway and Epilepsy is riding shotgun, but I can’t because I can’t drive.

Laura Hansen Breksa