I came out as an epileptic to my boyfriend on our first date. I had to leave early to take my medication. I forgot to bring some. Rats.
I told him I was having fun but had no choice but to go. Lamictal always comes first. I could tell he thought it was a little strange to be so forthcoming when I only knew him for a couple hours. (We met online).
Later, he told me he was skeptical about dating a woman with epilepsy. The worst possible scenarios went through his head. The only person he knew with epilepsy was his dog and he had watched him bounce around on the floor and whimper in pain for a year until he died.
But I made a good first impression and he decided to hang in there. He called the next day. We had a second date then another. It’s been 5 years and we are still going strong.
He went from skeptical about epilepsy to nonchalant.
Every night, he watches me pop 7 Lamictal pills. He calls them Larry and accuses me of loving Larry more than him. Maybe, but it’s a love-hate relationship.
He recently informed me that if I laid out all the pills I have consumed in a straight line, it would equal an eighth of a mile. (He did the math).
I shook in my sleep once. He woke me up and told me to cut it out because he was trying to sleep.
I took my dose of Larry twice one night. It was terrible. I saw triple. I had to crawl to the bathroom and bumped my head on the toilet. He brought me water and made me throw up. He said give me a holler if you needed anything.
You may think this nonchalance is uncaring. But it is not. Dramatic reactions by a caretaker is never helpful. The more he normalizes it, whether it is taking pills or actually having a seizure, the more normal I feel.
(He always tells me later that he had his thumb on 911 in case I really needed it.)
Sheila Johnson 