A relapse into hell’s kitchen

How did a three-year streak turn into three-days? How did the renewed independence and freedom disappear with just the change in time? These and so many more questions swirl in my mind, but will I ever find real answers to any of them? Most people never find the underlying cause of their epilepsy. I know I never did, but I at least thought I found the end to that journey.

Boy was I wrong!

I was just waiting for the clock to strike midnight so I could send my twin sister a happy birthday message, but I never saw the time change.

I awoke to confusion. Saliva spilled across my pillows and cheeks. “Vero, do you know what just happened?” my husband asked.

“What year is it? Who’s the president of the United States?” he continued asking.

I’ve heard these questions asked several times before, but these questions were only ever asked to me when I had a seizure.

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked him.

“You just had a seizure. Please answer me.”

“Don’t say that! Please don’t say that!” I screamed.

But he had to say it because it was true.

I woke up in hell’s kitchen again. Epilepsy came back full force to wish me a happy birthday this year, and I spent the better part of the morning making calls to my neurologist and dentist so we can come up with a new plan.

Am I disappointment because of all the progress I made these past three years? It would be a lie for me to say it wasn’t. Yet, as I stare at epilepsy face to face again, I’m not angry, just a little a sad. I’m not back at square one. I beat you once my strange friend, and I’m willing to do it all over again.