The Story of a Seizure: An Open Letter to my Fiance

For Better or For Worse (post-seizure).

Dear Thomas,

Our wedding is 26 days away. Last night, we picked out the song that we would dance to at our wedding, as we prepared for a week of wedding fueled adventures (like cake tasting, DJ discussions, and our last meeting with the Reverend that will perform the marriage rite at the wedding ceremony). You begrudgingly humored me, in my stubbornness, allowing us to dance our first dance as husband and wife to "Beauty and the Beast". You were indignant, charmingly so, because you assumed everyone would think that you were the beast, and that the song would somehow be a condescending representation of you, despite the fact that most people in the room will be touched, if not crying, by the sheer profundity of both the song and the love that will be radiating from us.

I can get to the place where I understand that your point is valid (or, at least get why you'd think that). I'd rather you not think that you're the beast in this relationship, and certainly not in our marriage. The song is suggestive, and the story is certainly a "tale as old as time"; girl meets beast and fixes him into a prince charming of her dreams (complete with full hair, deep eyes, and all of the muscles). But Disney movies are meant to boil down life into perfectly sculpted collections of tropes, lacking the nuance and complexity of the hard truths that life throws at us. People have joked with us, saying we're a real life Disney movie, and maybe that's true. But we're also VERY real.

My darling, you are not, nor will you ever be a beast. Not to anyone, but certainly not to me. In my epic seizure last night, in which the porcelain plate that held your mom's delicious dinner shattered on the carpet and cut my hand (making me leave a puddle of blood on said carpet), after you held my head still as I foamed at the mouth, and after you and your mother washed my hand as I lay semi-conscious in your late grandfather's recliner - I was so much more of a beast than you could ever be. I've been known to grunt, bleed, and foam at the mouth when I'm having a grand mal seizure - I'm certain rabid dogs are described identically to me in these moments. And yet, as you cradled my head in between your knees, you were there for and with me, even as your best guy friends had dinner with your family upstairs.

I have 26 days to consider how, in our wedding vows, I will be able to articulate the kind of man you are. No one saw this seizure disorder coming, and yet, even as you struggle to express your difficulty facing it with me, I have never once doubted your sincerity, trust, or concern. Never once have I felt judged or unsafe - I felt nothing but love from you, even when I was literally the least convenient person to be betrothed to.

I cannot tell you how important a support system is to battling a chronic illness. On Friday night, I literally dreamt about handing a blade to someone I greatly dislike and asking him to slit my throat because the pain was brutalizing me without any promise of relief (after taking Percocet, Bubital, and Excedrin throughout the course of the day). But then I remembered that I had someone worth fighting for, and a future that I could believe in.

If there is a beast in the room, dancing with us after we vow to love one another for the rest of our lives in sickness and in health, it will be my seizure disorder. And it will still be a part of our lives on February 7th, and it isn't something we can just will away. But together, because of love and courage and the promise of a future, we will fight - and there is no one else I'd rather fight for than you.