So This Is How It Feels

I know, you would think that the first worse day would have been being diagnosed with epilepsy. It wasn't. I was 13, and hadn't experienced the loss of a loved one. This first one, was one of the biggest part of my heart.

December of 1999, my Grandpa passed away. He had been in the hospital over Christmas Eve with pneumonia. The Italian kind of Christmas Eve is loud, with lasagna, sausage, and all sorts of goodies. It had never been so quiet. That Christmas Eve, my cousin Brian, took me with him to go see our Grandpa at the hospital. That was the last time I saw him alive.


My Grandpa served in WWII he was a B-17 bomber and was shot down and was a POW through the rest of the war. In the morning he would say, "Sarge, straighten up those shoes" with a big grin.

I couldn't have asked for a better Grandpa. All my memories with him were happy. I was spoiled more than any grand-kid I knew. I'm sure you're thinking, that's sad but what does it have to do with epilepsy? Well, let me tell you. How these two relate is exactly how hard I took this loss.

What I didn't know back then, makes plenty of sense now. I was already moody from the Depakote. I projected a lot of hostility, especially in sports. I carried it with me in school and at home. After my Grandpa passed it was so much worse.

There's a whole package of B.S. that comes along with having epilepsy and the medications. Depression, mood swings, anxiety, to name a few.

I became incredibly depressed and angry. My emotions were all over the place. I hardly wanted to see anyone and didn't talk much. My aggression spiked at least to a 10. During my softball games, I didn't give a damn if I hurt someone in the game. I was a catcher and when someone would try to steal home I would drop all of my body weight as hard as I could just to hurt them like I was hurting. I broke a pitcher's hand with a line drive after being hit a few times by her pitches. It drove me to be a damn good player and feared in the league.

My parents were concerned by my withdraw. They wanted me to get out more, so they had me go to a friend's house for New Year's Eve. I spent most of the time outside in the cold just looking at the stars and just bawling. I didn't care about things anymore. I didn't care about my health especially. The only reason I was still taking my pills was because my mom made sure I did. I didn't care how many absence seizures I was having. I just didn't give a shit. 

The first anniversary of his passing was just another trigger for the next episode.   

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