Easter, God, and me having epilepsy.
My first seizure occurred when I was eight years old. Being put on the barbiturate phenobarbital I was quiet until the doctor switched my medication when I was fifteen. I laugh and say the day I came off of phenobarbital, I had a legal high. It felt like I was floating in air. The new medicine helped keep me seizure free until I was 22 years old. The new neurologist diagnosed me and said scar tissue from a high fever is the reason for my epilepsy. I had surgery two years after that to remove the scar tissue. I went seizure free for three years. Three years of freedom being able to drive.
I went through denial for a few years. I didn’t see another neurologist. Finally I switched doctors and tried new medication. My seizures started decreasing in number. I told God that if I could drive, we would go to church. Finally, I went seizure free for two years! Being seizure free, I got my freedom back. I drove for five years. We started going to church activities. Then, my insurance company switched my medicine to generic. After taking the generic medicine for two days, I had a wreck.
My fourteen year old daughter was in the front seat. This seizure was not like my previous seizures. I usually have an aura before them. This time I didn’t. My daughter said that I swerved, hitting mailboxes, and going over the yellow line on the road. Finally the car was stopped a tree. The tree went between my daughter and me. I didn’t remember anything. I came out of my seizure and remember a young man picking up my daughter out of the car. A lady was knocking on my car window and opened my door.
I saw a firetruck pull up and then my father-in-law, he lived close by. An ambulance took my daughter to the hospital. I rode in the car with my husband. I was on one side of the ER while my daughter was in the pediatric side. I couldn’t quit crying and wanted to see her. We found out that her ankle was in bits and pieces. We were in the hospital for a few weeks.
The pastor came to see us during our stay in the hospital. I told him that I was mad, at God. We were on our way to church when I wrecked the car and ruined my daughter’s ankle. Why? Why did my daughter have to be in surgery twice while we were there? Why wasn’t it me?
It took a while for me to be thankful to God that we lived. My daughter and I grew closer after she had to be home with her foot lifted up on the couch, and me taking care of her. We live, but Jesus died for us. I finally know that God let this happen for us to get closer and my daughter to find out which friends were true friends. They would come visit her to show they care.
Happy Easter and thank you God for sending your Son to die for us.