Last year, I had my first of many seizures. As I high school sophomore, I had a lot to do, and I was busy running around in a hurry to finish my science lab. I sat on a pedestal behind one of the many counters and proceeded doing experiments. I suddenly felt a wave of confusion and fear. I lost all coordination and my brain could not analyze any stimuli around me. I could not even shout for help. All I could do was cry for help in my own head. I felt my body shake and twitch uncontrollably, and I felt my body tense up and become almost paralyzed. As I fell out of my pedestal, I managed to shout, “I am having a seizure!” I fell to the ground and lost consciousness. I experienced a grand-mal seizure and convulsed aggressively.
When I finally gained consciousness, I remember hearing the terrified cries of teachers and administrators, while the worried paramedics put IVs into me. I could not speak or open my eyes for around 15 minutes after I woke up, but when I did, I screamed and cried. I could not speak correctly, and no one could understand what I was trying to say. It came out in gibberish. What I was trying to shout was, “Am I dead yet?!!” I could not bear living a life full of seizures, and I was so mentally traumatized that I wished I was dead. I finally opened my eyes and saw paramedics through many tears. I could not stop crying. When I gained the ability to speak, I said, “help me” and passed out again.
I woke up in the emergency room, and my older brother was the first member of my family to see me there. He and I have a very close relationship, and when he asked me if I was okay, I couldn’t answer. I froze up and then broke out in a bawling fit. I could not even speak of what happened to me during school without crying. I have been diagnosed with aggressive epilepsy, and it is under control. But the permanent mental trauma from the experience has scared me for life, and I am constantly consumed by the fear of having another seizure.