I'm sending love and light to all of the sweet, innocent kids afflicted with seizures—the scary ones, the kind that hurt, the ones that cause broken noses, bloody tongues, face lacerations, the kind that make them feel as if they're being smothered. I'm sending love and light to the parents of these precious ones who have been cheated by no fault of their own.
I am sending love and light to Hannah, the mother of a little boy named Casey whose seizure I watched on video today and, when it was over, whimpered to his mother, "I don't know why." I wept hearing him breathe, watching his limbs stiffen and tremble and his hands cramp up. I saw my own son in his darling face and wondered if Calvin would utter the same sad words in the wake of seizures, if he could speak.
I am sending love and light to Lisa, whose daughter Emma has been crying for a week since a neurologist advised to reduce her daughters benzodiazepine too quickly.
I'm sending love and light to every mother and father trying their best to navigate the complex and enigmatic world of pediatric epilepsy while sleep deprived, spread too thin, despondent and anxious. I'm sending them strength to challenge and question neurologists. I'm sending courage to trust their guts in the face of doctors who cavalierly pile on medications, downplaying their side effects, aiming for seizure-freedom at nearly any cost, neglecting to consider quality of life.
I'm sending love and light to all the little ones who don't understand what is happening to them, and who have been robbed of a pain-free, care-free childhood.
I am sending love and light to Hannah, the mother of a little boy named Casey whose seizure I watched on video today and, when it was over, whimpered to his mother, "I don't know why." I wept hearing him breathe, watching his limbs stiffen and tremble and his hands cramp up. I saw my own son in his darling face and wondered if Calvin would utter the same sad words in the wake of seizures, if he could speak.
I am sending love and light to Lisa, whose daughter Emma has been crying for a week since a neurologist advised to reduce her daughters benzodiazepine too quickly.
I'm sending love and light to every mother and father trying their best to navigate the complex and enigmatic world of pediatric epilepsy while sleep deprived, spread too thin, despondent and anxious. I'm sending them strength to challenge and question neurologists. I'm sending courage to trust their guts in the face of doctors who cavalierly pile on medications, downplaying their side effects, aiming for seizure-freedom at nearly any cost, neglecting to consider quality of life.
I'm sending love and light to all the little ones who don't understand what is happening to them, and who have been robbed of a pain-free, care-free childhood.
Calvin coming out of a grand mal seizure, 2011
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