Its all in the head

Last night I bounded out of bed at the speed of thousand gazelles. That slick feeling of dread rushing over me, adrenaline surging as I burst open Harleys bedroom door. He’s laying there just he had been when Mum tucked him into bed. He raises his head grumpily and looks me in the eye as I flick on his light. Thank god, I think to myself, He’s ok. I can read his thoughts and know he’s saying, piss off woman stop disturbing the little sleep I get.

When Harley was younger he had terrible epilepsy. I mean seizures every day, and they were horrifying. Epilepsy is very common among “Angels” and it is so complicated that it is often difficult to regulate. Anyone who’s ever witnessed an epileptic seizure will understand me when I say it is the hardest thing to ever sit through. And that’s all you can do. Sit. Watch and wait for them to come around. Be there for them when they are conscious and the pain hits. Thankfully Harley grew out of his epilepsy as he got older. Sporadically he’ll have a seizure but they are very few and far between.

I remember one evening I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom opposite Harleys room, I heard him. I thought he was dreaming or rolling around his bed. It sounded odd though. Unhuman. I decided on a whim to check on him. I pushed open his slightly ajar door and there he was gripped in the throes of a seizure. His back was arched and his hands twisted like that of an old tree root. I jumped on the bed; I knew I had to get him in the recovery position but how? I’d seen Mum do it before, it should have been easy. Instead panic took over and I sat there holding him. I screamed for Mum, at first I couldn’t get the words out and on the second attempt I didn’t even recognise my own voice. Mum and Dad run upstairs and Mum efficiently took over. I was eleven.

A few years later, I’m in bed and I hear an odd noise. I think nothing of it. About thirty seconds later I hear that panicked screech for Mum. I leap from my bed. There in Harley’s room, my brother is scrambling to roll Harley into the recovery position. I recognise that same fear and panic in his eyes. I get there before Mum and help roll him into position. Mum gets there, and then Dad and we all sit together. We sit and we watch. We watch the confusion cross Harleys face every time he thinks he’s coming out of it but then gets dragged back in. We hold his hand and we sooth him. We try to hold back the tears. Finally it stops. He cries and that’s the best sound in the world. Mum sits with him all night, while he cries from the headaches. No one sleeps that night.

For the next year I checked on him every night. At the slightest sound I would soar out of bed and run to his room. Nothing was ever wrong. Yet every night I’d go through the routine of checking on him. Eventually I learned that it was ok but every now and then I feel that same sense of panic and I just can’t help running to his room.