October 8, 2020 | I woke up in an ambulance today. I didn’t know where I was or what was happening. Until I recognized the sound of sirens. When I arrived at the hospital, I was told I had a seizure—my first confirmed one. Looking back, the signs were always there. When I was younger, I had frequent migraines. In my first years of college, those migraines turned into what we thought were panic attacks. I was prescribed medication that never seemed to work. Now I know why. Many of us have a date that stays with us, a day that creates a before and after. For me, that date will always be October 8. |
February 12, 2021 | I’ve been thinking a lot about my life before October 8. I loved to drive. Just me, my dogs, music blasting, no destination. Sometimes, I’d end up at a little beach near my mom’s hometown. It was peaceful there. I was studying architecture, working two jobs, taking care of my pets and looking forward to a future I thought I had control over. Since my epilepsy diagnosis, I’ve had to stop driving. Losing that freedom has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. And the seizures are happening more often—every other week, three days at a time. Every time they hit, all my memories before and during each episode disappear. At work, I ask the same questions over and over. I’m trying to keep up, but it’s like I’m constantly falling behind. That’s why I’ve started these memory journals. One page a day, just one, to help me remember when I have lapses in time. |
May 9, 2023 | I just spent 20 days in the Epilepsy Monitoring Unit. It was exhausting, but it finally gave me answers. Bilateral temporal lobe epilepsy. Seizures originating on both sides of my brain. Which, unfortunately, means traditional surgery isn’t an option because cutting out one part of my brain wouldn’t stop the seizures from happening in another. When Dr. Ana Suller Marti gave me my diagnosis, it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. For over two years, I knew something was wrong. I knew I had epilepsy, but I didn’t have a name for it. Now, I do: Bilateral temporal lobe epilepsy. Knowing what’s happening inside my brain—where it starts, what to call it—makes it feel a little less scary. |
September 18, 2023 | Today, I met Dr. David Steven. I had a seizure in the waiting room for 45 minutes. When it finally passed, I sat down with him and his team. He told me I have the “perfect brain” for something called a responsive neurostimulation (RNS) device, a small implant that could help regulate my seizures. The problem? This surgery has never been performed on an adult in Canada. But he’s working with Health Canada to make it happen for me. The idea of brain surgery, especially something so new, terrifies me, but I also can’t keep living like this. |
April 15, 2024 | I just found out the RNS surgery was approved. I’m going to be one of the first adults in Canada to receive it. I still feel nervous but knowing Dr. Steven fought so hard for this…it makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I can get my life back. |
July 11, 2024 | Surgery day. Breathe. They put a metal frame around my head to keep everything in place. There wasn’t enough local anesthetic, so it hurt. A LOT. The pain, the fear—it was overwhelming. I started crying. But then, Dr. Steven did something I’ll never forget. He wrapped a tissue around his finger and reached under the frame to wipe away my tears. In that moment, he didn’t just see me as a patient. He saw me as a real human with emotions. And earlier, he told me he doesn’t have to shave my head for the surgery. He knew how much my hair meant to me. It’s always been a part of who I am and he made sure I didn’t have to lose that, too. He is incredible. |
January 30, 2025 | It’s been six months. Six months without a seizure. Six months with uninterrupted memory. Six months of actually living. For five years, I couldn’t hold onto memories for more than two weeks. Today, I can remember everything. Conversations, places, experiences. Christmas with my family—the smell of my mom’s baked goods. I’m going to concerts. It is possible for me to start driving again. I can plan for my future instead of being afraid of when the next seizure will hit. I once thought October 8th was the day my life was taken from me. Now, I see it as the day that led me here. And I’m excited for what comes next. |