It was a Monday morning and Rachel sat opposite me. We covered the extent of our rather mundane weekends quickly and just as I was about to turn my attention to our Monday emails, she stood bolt upright, groaning as she did so.I was about to begin a lesson in bravery, that would last for years to come.
Initially I thought she had been stung by a bee but as she toppled over, I knew something wasn’t right. She left my line of vision and came to a rest on the floor on the other side of my desk. I sat motionless, in stark contrast to Rachel, who shook violently on the floor, an electric current seemingly coursing through her body.
Debs sprinted down the office, cleared everything from the immediate area and ushered everyone away. I did as I was told, with no idea what had happened.
Ah… epilepsy.
The same epilepsy that Rachel had told me about. What it does to her, how we should react, who to call and that everything would be ok. Interestingly, sitting motionless wasn’t one of the things she had encouraged me to do.
Rachel went home and a couple of days later came back to work, happy out.
I had no idea what to say, thankfully Rachel had been through this before and was well versed on on the reactions of people around her.
“Once it starts, I cannot stop it. Sometimes I think it is coming but most of the time it just starts and that is it.”, she explained.
What happens once it starts, I wondered. “It is like being in a gym session for 24 hours, where you work every muscle in your body. During a seizure, every one of them contracts. I am stiff as a board afterwards, great for my abs though!”
And after…? “Imagine your computer, you’re working away and then suddenly there’s a power cut. When you turn it back on it will take a minute or two to come back to itself. It’s the same with me, my brain takes a while to recalibrate and for my memory to return.”
“Catch me!” … her response to what I should do if it happens again.
Challenge accepted.
Over the years working together, I lost count of the times I caught her. I’d hear the initial grunt, sprint around the table, break her fall and lay her out on the floor. Then I’d wait, firstly for the seizure to pass and then for Rachel to regain an understanding of what was happening.
“You’re OK, Rach. You’re in the office. It’s fine, It’s me, Philip.” I’d begin as calmly as possible.
“Where? Who are you?” would be the bewildered reply.
Another couple of minutes would pass and I’d try again.
“It’s OK Rach, you’re in the office. It’s me, Philip.”
“I know who you are!” The accompanying eye roll would always catch me. At least I knew she was back.
“You’ve had a seizure.”
“A WHAT!?” Back to square one, not quite ready for that bit.
Rachel had told me she could be angry or rude when she comes around. I’m glad she told me.
I’d try again. “It’s OK Rach, you’re in the office. You’ve had a seizure… but everything is ok.”
“I KNOW! Where is my jumper?” It was never warm enough for Rachel.
“I have it under your head”
“WHY WOULD YOU PUT IT THERE?!”
There was a memorable time where Rachel hit her head during a seizure and a bump developed. One of our colleagues arrived with a bag of frozen peas (no idea what they were doing in an office) and proceeded to place them on her head.
“WHAT ARE YOU PUTTING PEAS ON MY HEAD FOR?”
“You’ve bumped your head Rachel.”
“SO, WHAT ARE PEAS GONNA DO?”
An unwelcome peas offering.
Gradually Rachel’s memory would return, and she’d be faced with the harsh reality that she was lying on the office floor surrounded by colleagues trying to look busy and not at her.
We’d phone Paul, her recently recollected boyfriend, and he’d come to bring Rachel home. Then the slow walk through the office would begin and Rachel would take a day or two off work.
“Hey! How are ya?” was often the first question Rachel would ask on her return.
Me?! You’re the one that has had to recover from a seizure and return to work, not knowing when it will strike again.
I’ve seen you have a seizure while mid-sentence on a conference call, with colleagues you’ve never met before. I’ve seen you collapse under the chair of a colleague, who was too terrified not to follow the “continue as usual, Phil knows what to do” guidance. I’ve seen you snap at senior colleagues as you return from your post seizure state, and you’re wondering how I am?
That’s brave. You walk tall, back into the office, knowing what people are like. Some will become closer, while others more distant. But you remain yourself, positive, optimistic and honest.
It’s impressive and in a lot of ways, the most impressive thing I have seen.
