Our Story – National Epilepsy Awareness Month

Recently I attended a class where I needed to give a 4-minute talk. Inspired by National Epilepsy Awareness Month, I took the opportunity to share our story with my classmates.


A little over 6 years ago, my company offered me a new position that would move my family from Colorado to Philadelphia. I had been to Philadelphia for work many times, but my family’s first visit was shortly before our move. We flew there together and my wife and son explored the city and hunted for houses while I worked.

One night, after a long day of house hunting, we went to an arcade to play games and have dinner. My son had a fascination with Guitar Hero and spent a good chunk of the night shredding the plastic guitar to AC/DC.

When we were done, we headed down to the exit to wait for a taxi. I remember there was a thunderstorm, and we stayed inside the lobby watching the rain and lightning. Before it arrived, my wife and I both noticed that something was happening with our son. He stopped responding, and his body had stiffened. At first, we thought he was joking but, when he wouldn’t come around, we knew something was wrong. I held my son as my wife called 911. Instead of a taxi, we left the arcade in an ambulance and headed to the hospital.

Finding yourself in a strange city, late at night in the hospital waiting for the doctor to tell you what happened to your toddler is an experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The rooms were full so my son was on a bed in the hallway as we watched the chaotic energy of an urban hospital and the activity around us. Eventually, the doctor confirmed what the paramedics had told us what likely had happened, and that was that my son had a seizure. Because it was his first one and because he was slowly recovering, they sent us home.

A few days later, we left Philadelphia to go back to Colorado. There were no other signs or lingering effects from his seizure, so life went back to normal. We packed up our house and headed east.

Once we moved, we spent time exploring our new home. Eventually, we stopped worrying about epilepsy and seizures. But epilepsy wasn’t done with us. A few months later, my wife and son were boarding a plane to visit friends in California when my son had his second seizure. Fortunately, the flight crew was able to get my family off the plane and they found themselves in another ambulance, this time headed to the children’s hospital.

The second seizure came with an official epilepsy diagnosis. At the time, I didn’t really know what epilepsy was other than what I had seen in the movies. Even though seizures and epilepsy are common, that is true for many people, so I want to share some information with you.

First, what is epilepsy? It’s a seizure disorder characterized by uncontrolled seizures.

More than 3 million people in the United States have epilepsy. 1 in 26 people will develop epilepsy in their life. 1 in 3 people lives with seizures that aren’t controlled by treatment. Sometimes, there is an identifiable reason why someone has seizures, but 6 out of 10 people with epilepsy don’t know the cause.

Unfortunately for my son, the last two bullets apply to him. We have not been able to figure out what causes his seizures and, even though we’ve tried different medicine, put him on a special diet, and had a device called a VNS implanted, he still has seizures almost every day.

The reason I wanted to use my time today to talk about epilepsy, in addition to it being such an important part of my life and my family, is because November is also Epilepsy Awareness Month. If you didn’t know anything about epilepsy before today, I hope I gave you a glimpse at what it is. And if you didn’t know anyone before today who was affected by epilepsy, now you do.

While epilepsy is a big part of our life, I wanted to end my talk on a positive note. While my son does still has seizures, he is also a very happy, energetic 11-year old. He loves hockey and baseball, and last year he was selected to the All Star team for his baseball league. This picture is one of my favorites, and that’s him sliding into home plate underneath the tag of the catcher. He scored and wound up receiving the game ball as the game MVP.

Thank you for listening to our story, and if you have any questions or want to learn more about epilepsy, please reach out!


Resources:

Epilepsy Foundation – National Epilepsy Awareness Month

Epilepsy Foundation and Epilepsy Foundation of Eastern Pennsylvania

Epilepsy Dad

 

A Really Big Week

Over the summer, two huge things happened during the same week.

Professionally, I delivered a keynote speech at a conference. I’ve given many presentations before, and public speaking is something I want to do more. But this was much bigger than any talk that I had given previously.

I started to prepare for my talk weeks in advance, but, at the same time, another important event was looming on the horizon. The same week as the conference, we would be dropping our son off at sleepover camp for the first time.

Our son has rarely spent a night without either my wife or me there. And, when I say rarely, I mean once. No sleepovers with friends. No nights with the grandparents. One night in his entire life he spent with our nanny so my wife and I could go on an extended date night in the city and stay in a hotel, three blocks from our home. And now, we were going to send him away for a week.

Our local Epilepsy Foundation affiliate runs a program called Camp Achieve that is tailored to the needs of kids with epilepsy. It’s a week-long summer camp where the kids do proper summer camp activities. They swim and play tennis and have water balloon fights. They’re surrounded by other kids that are like them. Many of the counselors are former campers, and they are rounded out with volunteer doctors and nurses and other medical professionals. We knew and trusted so many of the volunteers because they were our nurses and friends we met through the Epilepsy Foundation.

Even so, the idea of leaving him for a week tore at my soul. I was worried about him, not just medically, but emotionally. I wondered how he would do away from us. I was worried about my wife. I was trying to be strong but leaving him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done…right up there with giving a keynote speech.

When I was still weeks away from the overlapping events, working on my speech provided a distraction. But as we got closer to camp week, I was having difficulty focusing. I didn’t work on my speech as much as I wanted to. I also wasn’t dealing with the impending separation from my son. Before I knew it, it was time to drop him off.

In life, there are easy days, and there are hard days. The day we dropped our son off to camp was a tough day. I was so focused on the process of checking him in that I was unprepared for when it was done, and we were shown to our car. The rest of drop-off day was a waste, as was the next day as my wife and I checked Facebook every two seconds to see if the camp had posted any pictures of our son.

But the conference was still happening, and it was only a few days away. I needed to focus and, thankfully, my wife helped, and her performance background proved instrumental. We spent the next few days shifting our attention away from Facebook (it helped that we started seeing pictures) and towards my talk. But each of those days was an exhausting marathon trying to keep my attention where it needed to be. Every night, I felt like I had given everything and crashed hard, only to repeat it the next day. Eventually, there were no more days.

The day of the conference was the day before we would pick up our son. It felt like I just needed to get through this one, really big, last thing. Even though that morning, I couldn’t remember any of what I was going to talk about, I somehow managed to calm my nerves enough to deliver what I was told was a solid talk. The euphoria after the conference was a mix of relief and excitement. My wife and I celebrated making it through the week with an intense ping pong competition, then went to bed knowing we’d see our boy in the morning.

We made it.

Pickup day was an orchestrated event, so even though we saw him outside his cabin, we resisted the urge to run over to him and hold him. But my heart felt so full when he signed “I love you” to us with a tired smile. When the ceremony was over, I held him so tight, and it felt like the perfect reward for making it through the week.

My son had a great time and wants to go back. Next year, though, I won’t sign up for anything the week of the camp. Maybe my wife and I can even go away together.

Just not too far away.

A Movie Script Ending

Our journey with epilepsy has the makings of a movie.

It has the time before. The time before epilepsy. The time before seizures. The time before medication, and side effects, and surgery.

It has the inciting event. The first seizure in the lobby of the arcade. The second seizure onboard an airplane. The “ticks” that turned out to be seizures that snowballed into status epilepticus and months in the hospital. The days when my son couldn’t talk or move. The night when my son was surrounded by a team of doctors trying to save his life.

It has an enemy and its name is Epilepsy.

It has the struggle. Every day. Early morning seizures. Exhaustion. Navigating the world in a fog. Trying to keep up. Learning. Behavior. Therapy. Rebuilding.

But it doesn’t have an ending. In the movies, the hero faces challenges, defeats the enemy, and returns home victorious and transformed. But we’re still on the journey and there isn’t a clear path home. Our enemy is one that he could face for a lifetime.

I started this post years ago. It sat unfinished, but I had an idea of how I would end it.

Compassionate people reassure us and say some children grow out of their seizures. We smile and nod, but its like they are watching from the seats in the theater but we’ve seen the script. We know what’s going to happen next but don’t want to reveal any spoilers. If they knew the ending, this isn’t a film that most people are going to hang around to see. Because people love a happy ending.

I wrote that at a time when things were exceedingly hard and relationships with the people around us were being tested. Some of those people are no longer in our lives. But, in spite of how I felt it was going to play out at the time, some people stayed. We’ve gone from feeling as if we were always going to be alone to cherishing what we have. Who we have.

It is true that our story may not have an ending, but it does have one more thing. The journey revealed many lessons about ourselves and the people around us. It showed us who is in our corner. The struggle forged stronger bonds. The journey has given us allies and surrounded us by our village. Our people. Our family. And we draw so much strength from knowing that we are not on this journey alone.

“There are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally. It may be conceded to the mathematician that four is twice two. But two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one.” ~GK Chesterton