Last night we were talking with Evan and out of the blue he brought up one of the more serious impacts of epilepsy. He said, "I know seizures are pretty serious and sometimes people die from a seizure...but it's very unlikely that would happen to a child, right?"
Rob and I exchanged glances not knowing exactly what to say. Do we tell him that children do die from seizures? Do we say that we just heard of a 6-year-old child who was taken from this world too soon? Do we confess that this is our biggest fear? No, that reality is too cruel and too hard to comprehend at his age. Instead we nodded reassuringly.
That conversation hung with me all night. I'm not ready to have a conversation with Evan about his mortality and I don't think he is either. I know our choice to avoid this conversation is right for the moment but I also know we need to figure out how to tackle this tough topic.
Then at a little after 11:00 we heard Evan kick the wall and make a strange noise. We rushed onto his room to find him having a seizure. We gave him the medication to stop the seizure and waited...6 minutes. Too long but not as long as the last one. I couldn't help thinking about his comment earlier in the evening and that we were once again spared from my biggest fear.