on bittersweet anniversaries

I am 8 years seizure-free. I can drive, shower, and run half marathons. I have decreased my risk is SUDEP exponentially.

However, I am no closer to knowing why I developed epilepsy than I was 8 years ago. I am no closer to being at ease with carrying babies exposed to an AED. I am no more comfortable checking off the disability box on federal forms. I remain the same state of exhausted I entered with my first dose of lamictal. I cannot bathe while home alone.

I am grateful. I am fearful. I am relieved. And yet I’m ill at ease.


on the urgent care waiting room

Going to urgent care if you’re sick is a real crapshoot. You may get treated for whatever ails you, but the odds are just as likely that you’ll contract something worse in the waiting room.

Case in point: MASH in Clarence. Today we’re at MASH because J has pockets of blood and either pus or mucus in his throat. Gross, right? Not as gross as this waiting room.

When we first arrived, the sound of coughing, at various tempos, pitches, and cadences, made my heart start palpitating. There is a sign that directs anyone coughing to wear a mask. There are masks placed strategically throughout the waiting room. At last count, we had six coughers and only one mask-wearer.

We’d been waiting for about one minute when a child began announcing he was going to throw up. Instead of taking him to the bathroom, which is clearly labeled and adjacent to the waiting room, his mom (Loud Mom) began to make a scene. “He’s going to throw up. Why doesn’t age matter for how fast they’re seen?! We need to be taken out of order! He needs to go in now!” Why, so he can vomit on the only physician in this office? While Loud Mom carried on, the receptionist got the child a bucket. He carried it to a corner and promptly threw up. No one took him to the bathroom. He did not wash his hands. And no one told Loud Mom that age would have worked against her child in a weighted system (but I really wanted to).

We’d been waiting about forty minutes when I started paying attention to Angsty Teenager. Angsty Teenager goes to a local, private, all-boys high school. He looks perturbed at having to exist. His mother wants him to tell her the dates and times of all his exams so she can put it in her cell phone (are you kidding me?!). Angsty Teenager is visually annoyed by having to be here. He blows his nose a lot and constantly touches his face. His mother has to remind him to wash his hands after he uses the bathroom. (I’m now understanding the exam/cell phone thing). His eyes appear bloodshot. After he wipes his nose with his hand, clearly unconcerned by his own contribution to the contamination of this waiting room, his mom pumps hand sanitizer into his hands. He looks at her with contempt, and I want to punch him.

About ten minutes after I could no longer observe Angsty Teenager without wanting to punch him, I asked J how he was feeling. He pronounced himself much better and decided we’d overreacted this morning. I advised him that I would punch him in the nose (instead of Angry Teenager) if he continued to say anything like that. He tried to convince me that punching him would cause more problems. I reminded him that we already paid for this visit, so we might as well get the most out of our money (and they have an orthopedist on site who can reset a broken nose).

At present, we’ve been waiting for approximately one hour and fourteen minutes. I’m dangerously close to putting a mask on myself, though I doubt it would do any good at this point. I’m hangry. I’m positive that J needs an antibiotic because if he didn’t have a bacterial infection upon arrival, he’ll definitely have one by our departure. And I’m debating signing myself in to get an antibiotic, too.

on quotations and conversations – fall 2017 edition

(At TJ Maxx)

J: If we start pulling all these pillows out we could have a fort. Should I start ?

Dad: Kate, where do you keep the iron?

K: Spare room closet.

Dad: I looked, but I didn’t…

K: Second shelf

Dad: Are you sure? Because…


Dad: Oh, yup, there it is

Mom: Katelyn, there’s a hole in this wash cloth. Or is it a burn mark?

K: WHAT? Those are brand new Kate Spade towels

Mom: Oh wait maybe it’s a symbol. Oh! It’s a spade for Kate Spade! How adorable.

K: OMG everyone is moving out tomorrow, and I am going back to living alone for the rest of my life with Abby.

(Listening to the radio)

J: “Thank you for calling the whine line, this is Simple Plan, what do you want to tell me about your dad?”

(Going over the Erie County election ballot the night before the election)

J: “where does it say spring fling queen?”

J: Is Voledemort asexual? I heard you’re asexual if you don’t have a nose. I mean Harry’s at least with girls like the one who drowned in the pool and comes back in the tub or whatever…

K: Moaning Myrtle?!

J: Yeah, whatever, I’m just saying you at least see Harry with girls, but you said she [Dolores Umbridge] doesn’t get with Voldemort, and I never see Voldemort with any girls or anyone so I was thinking maybe he was asexual.

K: Why are you talking about him being asexual? Have you been reading the news? What news have you been reading?

J: Why are they fighting?

K: Harry’s upset because he’s wearing the locket

J: There’s some weird lord of the rings shit going on

K: This is not lord of the rings! The locket is a horcrux!

J: A hor-what? The ring makes people crazy. The necklace makes people crazy. Same thing, boo.

(asking for an opinion on a baby gift for a friend)

K: Do you think this is too femme for a baby boy?

J: it’s as gay as Liberace

K: What? Why?!

J: It has EARS!

K: Okay, a lot of baby things have ears. You may as well start getting used to it

J: That’s fine, but the baby has ears. His clothes don’t need ears. I have ears, and my clothes don’t have ears.

K: You aren’t a baby!

J: Yeah, it’s the same thing though, boo.