It’s been five years since my son’s first seizure. He still seizes on most days. The side effects of the seizures and the medications take their toll on his brain and his body. He can’t do all the things he wants to do, and he sometimes struggles with the things that he can do.
It’s been hard.
But other people have it worse.
Are we the lucky ones?
Taking handfuls of pills every day to keep seizures under control isn’t lucky, but we have access to healthcare and can afford his medication.
Falling behind at school isn’t lucky, but he goes to school.
Having behavioral issues isn’t lucky, but they are rarer than they were.
Managing mental and physical fatigue every day isn’t lucky, but he can walk and talk and play baseball.
Having seizures every day isn’t lucky, but my son is still here.
There is always someone somewhere that has it worse. That’s the trap of comparing one’s situation to another. But minimizing our anger and frustration and pain doesn’t make them go away. It doesn’t make my son’s seizures go away, either. It just takes me away from my feelings and makes me feel guilty for having them.
We’re not lucky because his situation is better than someone else’s. There is nothing lucky about epilepsy and what my son is going through.
But I do feel lucky.
I feel lucky because he’s my son.