This morning Evan had a seizure and I was on my own because Rob is at the American Academy of Neurology conference. It was not really that big of a deal that I was alone because we've done this so many times, but I know Rob felt guilty for being away. He shouldn't because there is nothing that he could have done to change the events if he were here, but I guess that's just part of being a parent -- a really good parent.
I talked to Rob after the seizure had stopped and Evan was sleeping peacefully. Later I thought about how odd our conversation had been. The seizure "only" lasted about 5 min and I gave "just" one dose of rescue meds to stop the seizure. It has been 17 days since his last seizure and we commented on how great that was too. None of this is good, in fact, it's pretty bad. Yes, it's an improvement and we're happy to see that but this is not a good situation.
I hate the feeling of chasing after the illusive ideal of seizure freedom. I hate epilepsy and all the challenges and restrictions it brings to my family. I am fearful of what it will do to Evan if we can't get in front of the seizures and the effects it will have on Aria as she watches from the sidelines.
I got Aria off to school and then waited quietly for Evan to wake up. When he did he was feeling great. He was in a cheerful, talkative mood and went to school at 10:00. When I dropped him off he was chatting dramatically with the school secretary as she escorted him to class. He told me when he shows up late to school after having a seizure everyone is happy to see him and shouts, "Evan's Here!"