I Am Angry

Before I begin, I want you to know that I'm aware of the fact that this post is going to sound irrational. This is okay since there is no rationality where epilepsy is concerned. It's unpredictable and cruel. No rhyme or reason to its madness. It just is, and I spend so much time trying to find something to justify its existence.

I am so very angry.

I am angry at myself, first and foremost. Angry at myself for being so incapable of helping my daughter beat this disease. I realize this is an impossible task that I place upon my own shoulders, but believe me when I say, if there were any way possible for me to take it away from her and carry the burden myself, I would do it in a heartbeat. That's what mothers do, right?

I am angry at the doctors that see my daughter on a fairly regular basis. It's been two years since her diagnosis, and instead of getting better, her seizures are getting worse despite a constant increase in medication. Why aren't they doing more? Why is she still having these God-awful seizures that threaten to limit her teenage years?

As much as this is terrible to say because it's definitely not her fault, I am angry at my mother-in-law, who herself has epilepsy. She passed this affliction on to my daughter unknowingly because at the time she was planning a family, the doctors told her it wasn't genetic, that she couldn't pass it on. Well, guess what? She did pass it on, and it's not fair. It's not fair that her doctors were clueless, and it's not fair that my daughter has to suffer because of it.

Would I wish it to be any different? Do I wish that she had never had children to avoid passing on the epilepsy gene? Of course not. My husband and my daughter mean everything to me. I can't imagine a world without them.

Most of all, I'm angry at the epilepsy. What gives it the right to come into my daughter's life at such a critical time in her development and try to take over? She's only 14. She should be going out with friends, noticing boys, attending school trips, participating in extra curricular activities, and so much more. She does these things, but there's a constant black cloud hanging over her that makes it almost impossible for me to let her out of my sight. Next year she's supposed to get her learner's permit to begin driving. How do I tell her that this can't possibly happen at this point in time? She's going to be devastated. When will I ever trust that she can drive? Will one year seizure-free be enough? Two? Five?

I worry most of all that kids at school will begin to make fun of her. I worry that should she have a seizure at school, will they know what to do? Will the seizure last too long requiring an ambulance? Can anyone take care of her like I do if I'm not around when a seizure decides to strike? It breaks my heart and terrifies the crap out of me when she's not with me.

I just want to rip the epilepsy right out of her and punch it in the face. I want to throw it to the ground and stomp it. I want to keep stomping it until nothing remains but dust. I want to sweep it up and throw it in the trash to be hauled away and never seen again. I want to show it who's boss.

Rebecca is strong. She will overcome this obstacle in her life, I know she will. They say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. I think this is going to be the case for Rebecca, eventually. It's getting there that's the hardest.