When is my best, good enough? I comply, I take the tests, the pills and the insults from the medical establishment, the public, even family...
I have been epileptic for 65 years now. I have lived in fear, shame and self-doubt. I have learned to push back to make room for a life, with some of the ordinary comforts and joys life can bring. Our lives are gifts. But we are responsible for living them. I promote speaking and writing about E. We can all make a difference so keep reading...
When is my best, good enough? I comply, I take the tests, the pills and the insults from the medical establishment, the public, even family...


Driving is something most of us take for granted. It’s something we can’t wait to do. Later, it’s just part of what we do.
Driving makes your life different.
When my daughter asked me how I felt about having a driver’s license, I really didn’t have to give it much thought---then I realized something: When you walk from place to place, you gauge everything in terms of strength and endurance---your own. You get only as much stuff as you can carry. You make every ounce count. You never even think of getting stuff that’s heavier than you can jerk and carry. You never get things bigger than you are.
The first time I went to the K-Mart, I got so excited about all the great things and the great prices, I bought a truckload.
After I checked out, and pushed my cart outside to the parking lot, I realized I didn’t have a car. I had walked there. I also realized I couldn’t carry home the things I just bought.
I was mortified to have to call a neighbor to come get me---and my stuff.
Stamina and endurance are re-evaluated once you have a vehicle. The bigger the car, the more powerful the engine, the more you feel enhanced. The more you can do. The more you can buy.
So, when my daughter asked me about driving, I was quick to say that now I could go back to the K-Mart---and buy things that were too heavy for me to carry home. And some things that were bigger than me, as well.
However, driving is a serious source of contention among epileptics. There are some who feel it is a privilege, others who feel it is a right. I have read in sociological studies, that driving is a normalizing act that makes us feel socially equal, if only by having the driving license---whether or not we use it behind the wheel.
Life without a license can be full of added obstacles, of the kind you might never consider. For example, ever been turned down as a job applicant because you had no driving license? I have. I have been told that taking public transportation or depending on a ride from someone else would make me unreliable in the work place.
Ever try boarding an airplane without a driving license? Forget state-issued identification, because there are still many people who question the validity of the state I.D.---but no one questions a driving license!
If you have E. and want to drive, there are circumstances under which it is perfectly legal for you to do so. These conditions are not the same, state to state, but many of us can drive, legally.
Driving is a key to many things in life, but most especially, it can be key to the way we see ourselves as individuated parts of our society's whole.


There are obvious reasons persons with E. have trust issues---the longer they have E., the more complex these issues seem to become. This may be the hardest part of living with E., overall. I find I am unwilling to trust others---this springs to mind as the hardest part of E. Let me explain: I trust my husband, because he has been by my side, seen my most terrible convulsions, cleaned me up afterward, and still loves me.

I was startled when I looked up 'epilepsy' on You Tube, to discover much content designed to provoke seizures among those of us with E.
Then, when I checked my email from the Epilepsy Foundation of America (EFA) a few days back, one of those haters had sneaked in and posted (unsuccessfully) something else designed to cause seizures, complete with an embedded message: You Deserve a Seizure for your Postings.... when the EFA is successful tracking these anonymous fools down---they may be prosecuted for hate crimes, particularly if anyone reports they have been hurt by this content.
What kind of little twerps would do this kind of thing? I can imagine, sheltered in the shadows of the internet, these little pigs howling with laughter at the prospect of hundreds of epileptics suddenly seizing in unison, because of what they have created. They must really dig the power fantasy...
This just in: the EFA has discovered who you are, what you did, how you did it and have turned over the information. Now, you just have to wait for the knock on your door. (You left footprints!)
The notion that folks will take off after any disabled folk is sickening. It brings to mind the Nazi doctrine of "the useless eater", those disabled who do not deserve to live among the healthy---that somehow, we are only a drain on society, that we contribute nothing to our fellow man.
How is it okay for disabled Americans to be left out of the civil rights language used to protect all others??? Protected classes of human beings, of citizens, should be equal under the law---not excepted from it. Below is a comment on an opinion piece called "Too Big A Tent":
Re: "Too big a tent," editorial, Oct. 29
I was surprised and dismayed to read an editorial urging Congress to narrow the hate-crimes act to not include people with disabilities.
Greater inclusion of people with disabilities in American society has not been a painless process. To say there is no problem is to relegate people with disabilities to a second-class status in which bias-motivated crimes on the basis of disability are somehow more tolerable than those committed because of a person's race, ethnicity, national origin or religion.

Anxiety is common to lots of folks. It isn't unusual for any of us to suffer from it, and in various ways. Still, for epileptics, like myself, anxiety can be a complication or symptom of our epilepsy, and it is something frequently misperceived by others.
This is the way I feel coming out from the blackness of a convulsion. I don't know who the artist is or I would offer credit and my sincerest thanks for graphically expressing something so esoteric and difficult to explain to those who ask or wonder about without asking.
Nothing is more complex than human desire. Nothing is more intimidating than attempting to successfully negotiate the expectations we have of one another that will lead to a happy courtship, either. According to Epilepsy Ontario, "Studies have suggested that men and women with epilepsy experience a disorder of arousal rather than a disorder of desire" This sounds like good news: it says that while we want sex, we may not be charged up for it when the time comes to have it. (www.epilepsyontario.org/client/EO/EOWeb.nsf/web). 

Then all at once everything seemed to open up before him: an extraordinary inner light flooded his soul. That instant lasted, perhaps, half a second, yet he clearly and consciously remembered the beginning, the first sound of a dreadful scream which burst from his chest of its own accord and which no effort of his could have suppressed. Then consciousness was extinguished instantly and total darkness came upon him.
He had suffered an epileptic fit, the first for a very long time. As is well known, attacks of epilepsy, the notorious falling sickness, occur instantaneously. In that one instant the face suddenly becomes horribly contorted, especially the eyes. Spasms and convulsions rack the entire body and all the facial features. A fright ful, unimaginable scream, quite unlike anything else, bursts from the chest.
The fit saves Myshkin’s life. Unnerved by the sight of his convulsions, the attacker flees.
Myshkin’s epilepsy is both a medical problem and a metaphor for the innocence that sets him apart, an otherworldliness that contrasts with the competitiveness and materialism of the people around him. This is consistent with the sense of transcendence that often affects people (like Dostoevsky himself) who have temporal lobe epilepsy:
Amid the sadness, spiritual darkness and oppression, there were moments when his brain seemed to flare up momentarily and all his vital forces tense themselves at once in an extraordinary surge. The sensation of being alive and self-aware increased almost tenfold...His mind and heart were bathed in an extraordinary illumination...all his doubts and anxieties seemed to be instantly reconciled and resolved into a lofty serenity, filled with pure, harmonious gladness and hope... with the consciousness of the ultimate cause of all things.
| Unfortunately, these moments “were merely the prelude to that final second (never more than a second) which marked the onset of the actual fit.” |
Born in 1821, Dostoevsky became linked with the forces of political reform in Russia. He and a group of friends were arrested for political activity, tried, and sentenced to death. In a dreadful charade, as he was about to be executed, the sentence was commuted and he was sent to prison in Siberia. There he experienced his first epileptic seizure. Although he was a Russian nationalist, he left Russia for Europe in 1868 and there wrote The Idiot to help pay off his gambling debts. Dostoevsky’s own epilepsy was particularly acute as he was writing the novel ("Madness in Good Company: Great Literary Portrayals of Brain Disorders" By Marcia Clendenen, and Dick Riley, 2007).
This book, The Idiot, was a revelation to me. I have been a reader of Dostoevsky since my teens, and this is the single book of his I have missed reading, until this year. It is perhaps the finest description of TLE I have ever come across. While the flaws related to the book have to do with other people's interpretations, i.e. "innocence", "Christ-like", etc., the whole of the tale rang very loud bells for me.
To my own experience, the "innocence" described by critics of the book is symptomatic of a kind of naivete that presents itself in the personality of the TLE sufferer. "Innocence" strikes me as a kind of willed state, while naivete is no more an act of will than is the E. itself, but it is present, nevertheless.
I admit identifying with Prince Myshkin.
I am happy to identify with him, and with Dostoevsky.
Afterall, I might be Myshkin!!!


Did you know that the designation of November as National Epilepsy Awareness Month is 38 years old? I didn't. When I have mentioned that November is National Epilepsy Awareness Month to friends and strangers alike, they all say the same thing to me: "I didn't know that!"
First, comes the scent---the Angels are present. Next comes the fall, and I feel a brushing of wings, growing stronger, more intense until ...