The Homebodied Hermit

Something has become abundantly clear to me in the last few years. I am a homebody. If I had my way, I would never leave the house. When I was in elementary school, I loved to spend all my free time with my friends. When I was young, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy. I was put on a medication to control those seizure and it worked so well I failed to remember most of the time that I had a seizure disorder. I continued to laugh, live, work and play with my friends even though there was a chance that I could have a seizure at any moment.

At some point, my neurologist weaned me off the drug that were keeping the seizures at bay. I was given a reprieve and it appeared that my seizures were no longer an issue. Though I was scared to go off them, I was having no apparent seizures. The only obvious health problems were sinus infections. I was rarely at home since I was in band and dance.

My first day of college classes, I was full of hope. Then it happened. I had my very first seizure. I didn't realize it was a seizure when it happened. It wasn't long before these seizure spells were happening so often that it was impossible to keep it a secret. Some spells were completely obvious leaving me rigid in the floor and unable to communicate. Other spells just appeared to outsiders that I was daydreaming. I began seeing a new Neurologist who prescribed me the magic pill from my youth.

There was only one problem. It didn't help. He increased the dosage and I was getting my blood drawn a lot. There was a fine line between not being therapeutic enough and being so toxic. My body seemed to bounce between the two and a lot. I felt as if that whole first semester I spent more time in an ambulance, at the ER or in the infirmary than I did in class. I had seizures in front of professors, in front of friends, in front of strangers, in stores, at church, etc.

I made a few friends that didn't care about the seizures. In fact, those friends helped me in many ways that semester. As time went on, I spent more and more time at "home." I went to class, work and sometimes church. I would get dinner and bring it home so I didn't have to fear having a seizure in the cafeteria. I would work in an area of the bookstore that had fewer customers just in case I had spell at work. At church, I felt like a recluse. I wanted to be apart of the group, but felt as if I put myself out there that I would just wind up embarrassing myself. Slowly, but surely I became more of a homebody.

I am no where near as bad as I used to be. I drive a good distance to get to work. I sometimes spend time with friends spontaneously. I'd rather spend time on my couch watching TV and have my friends come to me. That way if my health gets the best of me I am not in front of anyone else. It's hard for me to be around crowds, but in order to live life fully I have to do things I enjoy even if those things mean actually leaving the house (example: Carolina Game). Even though seizures no longer plaque my life, I still live in fear that today will be the day one happens.

If I stare a little too long, is it a day dream or a seizure?
If I twitch a little too much, is it just a twitch or the beginning of a seizure?

There are very few people in my life now that have ever witnessed my seizure days. I have it that way on purpose. I would like to keep it that way, but truth is I live in fear every day that they will come back. Today, I tripped. Today, I stared just a little too long. Today, I twitched. Now the question becomes, do I become my old hermit self ... or do I just keep on keeping on? If these things came back, it would be mean I would have to give up my license. It would mean I would have no job. "It" would force me into being a homebody once again.

I am a chosen homebody. I do not want to be a forced hermit.