Epilepsy, Rape and Asthma; Why I Shouldn't Be Here

I remember the date like it was yesterday but that's nearly all that I remember. It was January 17, 1995 and I was on cloud nine! My husband had been working on a major career change for months. On this cold night, he was meeting with his new potential employer.

Our daughters' health challenges meant that I worked an 11:00 p.m. -7:00 a.m. job at a hotel while my husband worked a day shift. This way someone would always be available.

His career move would be a leap forward. Besides our daughters' health, mom was taking chemo and her mother had just had her first stroke. We needed good news and I waited anxiously.

My heart soared when his big grin lit up in the driveway. I was happy and very proud for him! That night, I was filling in for someone at work. The good news made it hard to leave. Even though I didn't want leave I had to go.

Everything at work was off from the start. Nothing was going right. I had people who didn't have enough towels in their rooms. Remote controls weren't working. The printer was being temperamental. People had been assigned to the wrong room -- You name it, it was probably going wrong.

As a hotel desk clerk it was my job to provide good customer service and I was failing miserably. When a guy came down to complain about his room I took the information and promised to be there as soon as possible.

I went in. I almost didn't make it out

The next few hours are fuzzy. I remember hurting and I sort of remember the cold but little else. My mind gives me flashes but no clear memories. What I don't remember has been filled in by reports from police, doctors, my family and friends.

In short, I was beaten. I was raped. I probably shouldn't be here. Trauma, both physical and emotional, plunged me and my family into a dark nightmare from which we could not wake up.

My next few weeks are a haze of doctor visits, speaking with police officers, appointments and visit my mother-in-law and mother. Everything I remember is out of sequence from events in the reports.

In my mind, my mother visited in the daytime and my mother-in-law came for a few days. In reality, my mother came at night while my mother-in-law stayed a few weeks. What I thought was an overnight at one hospital and a couple of days at another was one month divided between the two hospitals.

The physical damage was severe. I was beaten about the head and everywhere else. My bruised liver almost required an operation and my kidney was bruised. Most of my body would heal. The damage to my psyche would be even longer in healing. Physically, my head would heal but I would be forever different.

I started having shaky spells after the attack. My head would hurt and my arm would twitch. That's all I'd remember for awhile. Sleep helped me feel better. My new psychiatrist called it stress and prescribed pills to help. The other doctors were supportive but the shaky spells continued.

About 18 months after the attack my husband was transferred to a new town. In many ways the change was good for me but it also meant finding a new counselor.

Because I essentially grew up homeless, I'd started counseling before the attack. After the trauma those sessions began to cover PTSD and depression. When my new knack for losing things was attributed to stress I tried to work harder in the sessions.

I in the new counselor's office when the headache began and my arm started to twitch. An ambulance took me to the hospital where I was admitted. Did I know this was happening? No. That wouldn't happen for 2 more days.

When I woke up the doctor asked how long I'd had Epilepsy. I told him that I didn't have it. He grunted, ordered tests and sent me to my (new) regular doctor who sent me to another neurologist.

This one ordered more tests but I was hospitalized for an asthma attack before the results arrived. When I had a "shaky spell" there the medicine they gave me helped. It was an anti-convulsant.

My primary care doctor made it clear. People can and do die from seizure related car accidents. Because of a head injury the night of the attack, I forever will be an Epilepsy patient. I will also always be likely to have problems with short-term memory.

In the three years that had passed since then, I totaled one car and wrecked another, twice. My license to drive was medically suspended for six months. Any time I have a seizure the process begins again.

Being attacked could have been fatal. Driving with uncontrolled seizures could have been fatal. Toss my "natural" health challenges into the mix and life gets really complicated!

I take a handful of pills every morning, check my blood sugar and take more at night. I use an inhaler twice daily and another for emergencies. If I'm so sick that the breathing treatments fail I'm usually hospitalized.

The medicines have helped me pack on the pounds so I'm working on that. But the thing is that in spite of the disabilities I feel lucky to be alive. I've been able to do some amazing things like found a nonprofit, learn to use the internet and see my daughters graduate from high school and go to college. I've traveled, spoken to groups and comforted victims of abuse.

In the evening, I still get to hold my husband's hand and see his big grin when he pulls into the driveway. A word from my daughters and kisses from the dog remind me that no matter how bad it can get in this world being here is still pretty cool.