There’s a blizzard going on. Taylor Swift is blaring on the iPod player in the dining room. My kids are on the verge of yet another squabbling, screaming, whiny fight. But I don’t care! Why, you ask? Bella and I trudged through the snowstorm this morning for one of her twice-yearly appointments with her neurologist. We usually spend our time at these appointments talking about absence seizures, scary medication side effects, speech impediments, cognitive issues, all of the sorts of things that parents whose kids don’t have epilepsy never have to think about. (Jealous.)
Today, for the first time EVER, we talked about being seizure-free. Like, not having epilepsy. Being released from this scary-ass monster. Her doctor said that if she stays seizure free for another six months, we can have another EEG and maybe wean her off Lamictal. I’ve cried so many angry, pissed off, sad, pathetic tears over this disease that it’s a strange feeling to cry happy tears. Maybe my prayers have been working? Maybe the prayers of other people have gotten through? Maybe her brain is healing itself? I don’t know what it is, but I’ll take it. Keep those prayers coming though. Let’s not jinx anything. And for now I’ll be skipping happily through the snowstorm.