Uncle Mark
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I was diagnosed when I was 15. I'll be 49 next month. I live in what used to be a small town in Georgia, have been here most of my life. I've been married for 25 years to a wonderful (and patient) woman, have 3 children and 2 grandchildren. I was extremelyfortunate for many years (30+) to have my seizures controlled by Dilantin. In all that time I only had 8-10 TCs. Until recently, I didn't even know what a partial was. I saw my GP every 6 months for a level check, and I was right back to my day-to-day, as 'normal' (it seemed) as my 'non-E' friends. Several months ago, I had the most severe TC I've ever had. Since then, nothing seems to work. I've been to more 'ologists' than I can count, my meds are constantly being shuffled. I have a whole new understanding of what 'normal' is to many people with epilepsy. To be honest, I'm having quite a bit of difficulty wrapping my head around it all. I never needed to research new medicines, or even to fully understand the physiology. 34 years ago, a doctor told me "Take this (Dilantin), and you'll be fine." I did, and I was... but not so much anymore. That's why I'm here. Suddenly, I find myself needing to know much, and knowing very little.
My only brother, three years younger than me, was diagnosed a year before me. He was hell-bent and determined that epilepsy would not 'control his life'. At 18, he wanted nothing more in the world than to join the Army and become a Ranger. It took a lot of hard work (and some string-pulling by some high-ranking officers), but eventually, he did it. The day he got the Black Beret was the proudest moment of his life. While studying at UAB in 1987, he took a job cleaning the campus pool every morning. He didn't tell the family, because he knew how we'd object. One morning he had a grand mal seizure and fell into the pool. There was no one there to save him. His body was found three hours later. He was only 22. I loved him so, and miss him with all my heart.
I'm not telling you his story because I need or want pity. For years afterwards, the devastation of his loss took control of my life. Blaming myself for not magically knowing, anger at him for being so bull-headed, drowning myself in alcohol and drug abuse...been there, done that, burned the t-shirt. I wanted to share it because it taught me two things. First, though epilepsy is a major annoyance to most, and horribly debilitating to some, every small victory counts, and we should all aspire to be Rangers to whatever extent that we can. Secondly, there is a line between aspiration and denial, and epilepsy is a harsh taskmaster if that line is crossed.
I know...I'm preaching to the choir. But thanks for listening anyway.
My only brother, three years younger than me, was diagnosed a year before me. He was hell-bent and determined that epilepsy would not 'control his life'. At 18, he wanted nothing more in the world than to join the Army and become a Ranger. It took a lot of hard work (and some string-pulling by some high-ranking officers), but eventually, he did it. The day he got the Black Beret was the proudest moment of his life. While studying at UAB in 1987, he took a job cleaning the campus pool every morning. He didn't tell the family, because he knew how we'd object. One morning he had a grand mal seizure and fell into the pool. There was no one there to save him. His body was found three hours later. He was only 22. I loved him so, and miss him with all my heart.
I'm not telling you his story because I need or want pity. For years afterwards, the devastation of his loss took control of my life. Blaming myself for not magically knowing, anger at him for being so bull-headed, drowning myself in alcohol and drug abuse...been there, done that, burned the t-shirt. I wanted to share it because it taught me two things. First, though epilepsy is a major annoyance to most, and horribly debilitating to some, every small victory counts, and we should all aspire to be Rangers to whatever extent that we can. Secondly, there is a line between aspiration and denial, and epilepsy is a harsh taskmaster if that line is crossed.
I know...I'm preaching to the choir. But thanks for listening anyway.