Shield Me From the Storms

“Daniel, do you have your medication?” mum called from inside the house and I sighed.
“Yes!” I shouted back in frustration. My medication was one of the very first things I packed. It was placed on the back seat, beside where I would be sitting for the journey. We were moving to St Albans, just outside of London. My mum figured it would be better moving nearer to a city for better quality doctors. I’d never had any problems with Dr Pearson, my old doctor, but I just went along with what my mum wanted. It was easier that way. Moving from the middle of nowhere to a busy town just outside London was going to be a massive change and I was both dreading it and looking forward to it.

The journey to St Albans took about 3 hours. I spent most of the time looking out the window, watching as the countryside slowly melted away into shops, houses and offices. The town was only a short train journey into central London – a trip I knew I’d be taking frequently if my mum had anything to do with where my new doctor was located. She assumed that if a doctor worked in the city, then they were top quality. It’s not always true, but I knew better than to argue.

Once we got to St Albans, it took us 10 minutes to find the street and our new house. It was a pretty standard house – 2 storeys, a large wooden front door, a nice front garden and large driveway. Not that I was allowed to have my own car or to drive.

We got out of the car and I grabbed the box from beside me. It was pretty light, as it contained only my medication and the foam padding for the furniture in my room. My dad had come down the week before with the moving guys to set up the house and get everything ready. They’d done it to reduce the stress for me from moving. All of my stuff was already here, so I knew where everything would be. All we had to do was move our personal belongings in. I wasn’t really allowed to carry anything heavy, sharp or fragile in case I had a seizure and fell. I knew I wouldn’t, but still, my mum wouldn’t let me. So I just carried my box inside.

The walls were a cream colour and there was very little decoration other than a mirror hanging on one wall. “Dan, your room is on the left at the top of the stairs,” dad said as he came through the front door behind me. I nodded and headed upstairs. My parents had argued about my bedroom for a while. My mum wanted me to have a room downstairs to minimise the number of times I have to use the stairs and risk having a seizure while on them. But my dad had pretty much ignored her. He was much more realistic when it came to my illness. He didn’t baby me like she did, which I appreciated way more than I think he realised. Just the fact that he’d given me a bedroom upstairs meant the world to me. And even if I did have a seizure while on the stairs, its not like that hasn’t happened before. I’d fall down the stairs, possibly break something, be in a cast for a while, and then move on. It had happened before and it will happen again. I just get on with things, my dad does what he can, but my mum is overbearing. Part of me thinks it would be easier just to have a room downstairs so she won't moan and fuss so much, but I was a bedroom upstairs like a normal teenager. I’m not going to let my illness take that away from me.

I have frontal lobe simple partial seizures, which means that my seizures originate in that area of my brain. Sometimes, my seizures develop into secondary generalised seizures, which are much worse. I’m usually aware and conscious during simple partial seizures, but if they progress, then I lose consciousness. It’s those seizures that make my mum panic, because my arms and legs stiffen and I find it hard to breathe. My dad’s the best when I have a seizure like that, because he just holds me and waits to comfort me when I come out of it. If my mum’s around, she’s close to screaming when I come out of it. I’ve tried to tell her that it’s fine, that she doesn’t need to panic, but it’s no use.

My room had been painted – there were 3 white walls and one dark blue wall. My dad had asked what colour I’d like, but I hadn’t really minded. But I liked how he’d decided to do it. I set the box down on my bed and sat down. I could feel myself starting to get a bit tired – which I knew wasn’t good. I didn’t need to have a seizure now and stress my mum out. She might not even know – it wasn’t like I was loud when I had one – but I didn’t want her babying me already. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I hadn’t had a seizure today, so I knew one was coming soon.

I stood again a few minutes later and opened the box. I put my medication boxes in the top drawer of my bedside table and then pulled out the foam padding that would line the edge of my desk, chest of draws and bedside table. I knew my dad would come in at some point today to staple them onto the furniture. It was something Dr Pearson had suggested when my mum had ranted to him about how I wouldn’t wear a padded helmet when I was doing my homework. I’d much rather have foam padding on the edge of my furniture than have to wear a helmet.

I lifted the edge of my duvet and looked under my bed. The crash mat was already there. At night, I had to pull it out next to my bed, just in case I had a seizure at night and fell out of bed. The crash mat protected me from getting hurt too badly.

As expected, my dad appeared in my doorway 2 minutes later carrying the staple gun. My mum had probably told him to come and do it straight away. “Okay, Dani?” he asked and I nodded.
“Tired,” I said quietly. Dad looked over at me.
“Take it easy,” he said. “It’s been a long day.” I just nodded. Dad took one of the foam pads from me and stapled it down onto the edges of my bedside table.
“Yeah,” I said, another wave of tiredness hitting me. My head started to go fuzzy and I could feel coming. “Dad,” I managed to say before I lost my muscle tone and fell forward. My arms stiffened in front of me. My jaw tightened and my teeth gritted together.
“Breathe, Daniel, you’re okay,” I heard dad saying, as his hand landed on my back. “Nearly over, son.” And then it was. I blinked and sat up again, thankful that I’d already been on my bed so that instead of falling, I’d only bent at the waist and rested my head on my knees. I looked over at dad and smiled slightly as I took a deep breath.
“Don’t tell mum,” I said quietly and dad smiled and agreed.
“Was that your first seizure today?” he asked as he stapled the padding onto the desk.
“Yeah,” I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. After a seizure, I always feel like I could sleep for hours.
“Good,” he said and I nodded again. If I had more than 2 seizures in a day, I had to increase my medication and go to the doctor. And that really stressed my mum out.
“I think I’m going to have an early night,” I said, pulling the crash mat out from under my bed.
“Okay, Dan,” dad smiled, stapling the last piece of padding down to my chest of drawers. “Call me if you have another one, okay?”
“Yeah,” I smiled. “Night, dad.”
“Night,” he said, closing my bedroom door behind him as he left. It was only about 6.30, but I needed to go to sleep. Having a seizure, on top of a really long day had left me drained. I opened my drawer and pulled out the tupperware box containing the 3 bottles of my night time medication and popped the 3 pills into my mouth and swallowed. I quickly changed into my pyjamas and crawled into bed.

A new start from now on, a new town, a new school. I wasn’t sure how much better it would be than my last school, but I knew it couldn’t be worse.