To Christy Shake, Calvin & Family:
Hi Christy.
Hi Christy.
I learned of you through Lidia's page and I love you as a fellow human being. I'm glad you have this blog as an outlet, an outreach, a glance in, an education for some ... but, I'm sorry for the reason it exists at all.
My mother suffered with epilepsy. Uncontrollable, grand mals ... so, I understand. Opposite roles in this case: child as caretaker, but I understand. Epilepsy is a silent demon, scarier than anyone can really imagine, but the scars it leaves on everyone, forever, are often not so silent— and absolutely undeniable.
I send (some more) love to those you love and care about, and those who love & care about you, in return.
My heart & soul are with your beautiful boy, Calvin, both on his good days/content moments, and as he is abducted by an uninvited, unexpected and thrashing rollercoaster so fearsome and complex, that human engineers wouldn’t dare replicate it, nor can conventional medicine remedy it.
I'm in Michigan. I'm 46. I’m just a person—not some nut job sending you a message. As a matter of fact, I've wanted to write you for some time, but I wanted it to be intelligent—I wanted to say something that would soothe you, but then I realized there's never a perfect word, or time.
If you'd ever like to talk, scream, cry, share non-related chit-chat, or just hang on the line while you know someone else has an idea of what you're living through, how you're feeling (and boy do those feelings cover the fucking spectrum) ... call. Anytime. (555-555-5555) or text, or shoot me a note on facebook—whatever feels right to you.
I don't know exactly what else to say in this message, except *I understand* and *you are not alone*, though I know that at every seizure, with every fiber of your being and ounce of love focused on your baby—and in the tattered aftermath, you might feel like you are.
I'm also not an MD, RN, or any kind of specialist. But if I can ever be of any kind of help to Calvin, you, your family, I'd like to offer that, as well.
I don't know exactly what else to say in this message, except *I understand* and *you are not alone*, though I know that at every seizure, with every fiber of your being and ounce of love focused on your baby—and in the tattered aftermath, you might feel like you are.
I'm also not an MD, RN, or any kind of specialist. But if I can ever be of any kind of help to Calvin, you, your family, I'd like to offer that, as well.
With all sincerity, and something else that I can't exactly name,
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