Seizures and Doctors and Meds, Oh My!

Today, I had the joyous opportunity of taking my college-aged (and therefore all-knowing) child-adult to the neurologist. There are plenty of jokes around on brain malfunctions, but when one strikes your child, it strikes you with a deep, resounding panic. Fear of the unknown, especially of the frail jar of clay that embodies your most precious treasure, is a tangible terror that visits most parents sometime during their tour of duty. Folded lightly into the mix of today's college culture and you have a recipe for disaster.

At moments during the appointment, I was proud of her maturity. She's becoming quite the young woman. Poised, well-spoken. Other times I wanted to roll MY eyes at her petulance. All the happy memories and dreams of the future are more fragile now. All are still within reach, but the wide avenue that once paved the way has narrowed to something more twisty and bumpy.

She has a grown-up burden now; that of managing medication and lifestyle and classes and everything in between. The carefree college years are less so for her, whether by a quirk of nature or a bad decision. We'll never know. The usual parental harping of "Make Good Choices" takes on a new, more earnest ring. This is serious stuff. And she needs to know how serious it really is.

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