The tears that pool in her beautiful, innocent eyes that silently stream down her face - those are the most heartbreaking. She is so brave, so strong, so resilient. But she has met her breaking point and it pains her beyond words. It’s midnight and we’re on our first night of an extended EEG stay. The strong gagging scent of the EEG glue, the uncomfortableness of the IV in the crook of her arm, the seizure she just had while going to the bathroom - it was just all too much for her. Epilepsy has stole so much from her. These are the things that make me so uncomfortable to talk about publicly. But it’s the truth of epilepsy. Epilepsy has robbed her of her independence, dignity at times and so much more. I tell her to let go, to let the tears fall freely. That a good cry is good for her. I whisper to her that she’s stronger than I can ever imagine and that it’s okay. That today has been a lot. More than she should have to endure and I’m so sorry that she has to go through this.
