Thursday, 29 September 2011

Epilepsy rollercoaster ride

My sister’s son has epilepsy.  My first nephew, the crazy cute one who says wacky things, draws great pictures and has a style sense to rival Gok Wan. The boy who I pretended was my son before I had my own kids. Yep I really did that, people would stop and say how much he looked like me and I would just smile and nod, never admitting he wasn’t actually mine. Big Sis didn’t mind, she secretly liked it.
I didn’t know much about epilepsy and I still don’t know enough. He was diagnosed last year and every week he displays new symptoms, fights new battles, has more challenges to overcome.  And because we don’t live near, I only get to hear about it. My sister and her husband get to live it, day and night. They're on an epilepsy rollercoaster ride and they'll never be allowed to get off.
Epilepsy isn’t just about fits – or seizures to give them their proper name. He suffers from ‘drops’ which are temporary blackouts, causing him to trip, drop things on the floor, even fall in his own food. Not a good look when you’re surrounded by 5 year olds and your dinner is now all over your face. But he sits up, wipes his face clean and gets on with it. 
He also has long periods of being in a trance-like state. He doesn’t hear you call his name (ok most 5 yr olds don’t hear that!), but he doesn’t hear you offer him chocolate or a ride on his bike either. He wants to sit in the corner in silence and retreat into his own world. Big Sis tells me this is the hardest state to deal with. Her lively, never-sit-still child hides out in dark corners and stares blankly into space. Drifting from place to place, not hearing you, not really seeing you and not reacting to the world around him.
You have to carry on as normal. You could wrap him up in cotton wool but he’s 5 and the last thing he wants is to be different. So unless things are really bad, he gets dressed and goes to school. Often falling on the way, sometimes arriving and not really knowing he’s there. On these days my sister tells me she cries silent tears. You know the ones you cry when you’re trying to hold it together but the tears keep coming anyway? Sometimes the mums at the school gate share the pain, sometimes the teacher’s look says it all.
His epilepsy is evolving and they’re still trying to find the perfect combination of drugs to help manage his illness. Children in school are starting to notice and they’re old enough to be told what’s going on. If they understand what’s happening to him they’re less likely to make fun of him. Bullying is an extra stress he really doesn’t need.
But he’s an incredibly brave little boy and he keeps on smiling. He’s always been slightly eccentric and I think this eccentricity will get him through it. It hasn’t stopped his obsession with super heroes or taken away his daredevil spirit. It seems an odd thing to say, but epilepsy couldn’t have happened to a better kid – he’s so well-equipped to deal with it.
I can’t begin to imagine what my sister and her husband are going through. I hope this post helps more people to understand. But the best way we can help is to learn more about epilepsy, not be afraid of asking questions and most importantly, don’t treat him as if he’s different.
And next time you see a child who’s behaving a little bit strange, think twice before you judge him. Next time you see a parent who looks slightly on the edge, think twice before you judge them too. You just never know what’s going on in people’s lives.
Dedicated to my Big Sister, who is so much stronger than she realises and my Nephew, the next big thing.

Saturday, 24 September 2011

Remembering Me

I’ve forgotten who I am.
Has this happened to you? You won’t know you’ve forgotten until you remember. It’s a strange feeling, a bit like deja vu, a moment of weirdness but also huge joy. It brought a smile to my face.
I was sitting alone on the top of a hill looking across to the River Severn after a brief, but brisk, hike when it all came back to me. I could picture the twenty-something woman, walking for miles to get away from the city smoke and clear the hangover. With a good-looking man in tow and a bottle of wine warming in the ruck sack.
For a few minutes I sat there and felt happy as I remembered the forgotten me. A different kind of happy to how I feel most of the time, but happy all the same. So I texted my husband with a picture of view and the words ‘I love you’ – something I never text. He texted the same thing back (which was more of a shock), I think he understood the moment.
Like many women (maybe even some men) I’ve given myself away. To my husband, my work, my friends even, but mostly to my kids. So much so that I don’t even remember what I like. I’m a stranger to myself and I can only remember the me who exists to exist for others.
But I found it on that hill for a very brief moment and it felt really good. I'm going looking for me again soon.
As I write this, a group of my oldest friends are out reliving their Hacienda youth in a nightclub somewhere. I hope they get this feeling tonight and I think they will. I wish I could be there.
What i'm trying to say is, if you think you’ve lost you, don’t worry because you're still there somewhere. You may be cowering timidly at the back of the room, too afraid to come out, but you will. And when it happens it'll feel really good :)


Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Should have gone to specsavers

I’ve always had bad eyesight. An optician once told me that you get the eyesight you need. So if you always have your head in books, you will probably be short-sighted (can see well close up, but nothing over 3 feet). If you are a football referee, then you’ll probably become long-sighted, etc etc. I've never been good at fielding, but I can read the smallest print.

Whilst glasses and contact lenses have cured most of my problems, I still don’t seem to be able to see and judge my reflection properly. What I see in the mirror is not what you see in real life and certainly not what a camera sees.

I look SO good in a mirror, seriously. I get dressed and I often think I look slim, foxy, of below average weight, and essentially not bad for late 30s. In fact, if I am really honest, I see something like this:




But then I see REAL pictures of myself and I wonder how I got it so wrong. I don't help myself I know, I mean, what was I thinking?


I’ve learned how to pose now. I never stand on the end of a group shot, I tilt my face so I don’t get a double chin, I do the whole knee-up-leg-bent-standing-on-tip-toes thing to make my legs look thinner. But the photograph still never truly represents what I’m pretty sure I saw in the mirror.

In the mirror I’m a size 10, in reality I’m usually a 14, on a photo I’m pushing obese.

But lately even my mirror doesn’t lie. The baby weight is still hanging around. I’m eating too many cupcakes from Nom Nom and with a return to work imminent, I’m struggling to fit into any of my clothes.

So I’m going to fat club. Something I thought I'd never do. I'm a bit nervous about the whole group therapy thing, but mainly I’m hoping it will improve my eyesight considerably. Either that or I'm off to Ikea for a new mirror.

Either way, I’ll keep you posted.