It Was Purple Day (for Epilepsy Awareness) on Saturday

… and, to be honest, I only remembered because a friend sent me a text wishing me a happy Purple Day. I’m pretty sure the fact that it totally and completely slipped my mind makes me a bad PWLWE (Person Who Lives with Epilepsy).

Or maybe it has more to do with the other “stuff” I have going on right now. When push comes to shove, I can’t be bothered to think more than I absolutely need to about my seizure disorder.

Last week was really challenging, one in which I had to make some difficult, but life-affirming, decisions about various aspects of my health. I’ve been consistently proactive and compliant in my treatment, so it’s taking a lot of processing to let fresh realities set in. I can’t help but feel as if I did something to deserve this weirdo of a brain I own and the malfunctioning body I occupy. But as my mom pointed out to me yesterday, no matter how terrified I am, I keep saying “yes” when presented with something new to try. I should, according to several sources, be proud of that.

And my seizures have been relatively OK lately! Yay! Tolerable, anyway. It’s possible that I’ve simply learned to coexist with them, to accept that they aren’t going anywhere but that I can take steps to manage them. As long as the combination of my impressive cocktail of meds, my VNS, and my continued use of the medical version of the ketogenic diet keep me out of the neuro ward, I won’t complain.

In past years, I’ve thrown elaborate Purple Day parties. I’m confident that the days of purple body paint and artificial-grape-flavoured everything will come again. For now, I’ll focus on doing what I can to get myself to that place. Who doesn’t, after all, love the overconsumption of purple food dye?

A Purple Day Past

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