You are an uninvited guest that always shows up unexpectedly.
When our lives seem to be calm and things are content, you decide to rear your ugly head.
You intrusively barge in and turn our world upside down, disrupting our peace.
Seizures, I sincerely and desperately hate you.
I hate the way you take over my daughter’s tiny body without warning.
You wreak havoc on her.
I am dismayed watching her have no control, while you render her powerless.
I despise how time stands still and five minutes feels like an eternity when you are here.
I hate the heartbreak and helplessness that I feel while I’m forced to watch her go through this, and trying to keep myself calm.
I hate that her big brother has to help me get the oxygen tank to her, and that a twelve year old has to bear such worry for his little sister.
I loathe the terror that floods my thoughts as I beg you to leave her alone and give her back to me.
I hate that every time you strike, I curse at the universe. I am furious.
There is never any rhyme nor reason to your presence. I am mad and I wonder “why her?”
Each time you arrive, I want to scream from the rooftops how life is completely unfair.
She should not have to go through any of this. She didn’t ask for this.
I resent that you make us worry throughout the night for her safety. You rob us of sleep.
You take away our serenity and our ability to ever fully relax. You steal our family’s freedom.
After being confident and complacent for so long, we are now afraid to go anywhere far from home.
We know it will be a long time until we’re comfortable enough to leave her in someone else’s care again.
For all these reasons, I sincerely hate you.
As a parent of a child with Epilepsy, I will fight this fight with my child against you.
We hold onto hope that someday a cure for you will exist, as we long to banish you from our daughter’s life.
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