In My Head

Idiopathic ~ Kaden

The door opens, and a man with sandy hair comes in and smiles at us. His eyes are tired and worn out. He's clean shaven, but something about his eyes makes his face look out of place, like he should have a five o'clock shadow.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Evans, here to see Kaden Hastings."

"Yeah, that's me," I say.

He steps forward and reaches to shake my hand. He wants to shake? With me? I hold my hand up for him. He takes my hand into a surprisingly soft yet firm handshake.

"Hello, Dr. Evans, I'm Sheridan Hastings." Mom reaches out.

Dr. Evans shakes Mom's hand and Logan's too, then takes a seat on the rolling chair near the counter. "Did you finish filling out the Quality of Life Survey?" he asks.

Before I can go back to the checkup table for it, Mom gets to her feet. She grabs the packet, hands it to the doctor, and sits back down with a sigh. We sit in uncomfortable silence as he flips through the pages, taking his time to actually look at the sentences I wrote.

"Alright." He shuffles his papers. "You're here because Kaden has been experiencing refractory seizures."

It's not really a question, but Mom nods. "Yes, the seizures started about six months ago."

He shuffles the forms again and studies a page with a deep frown on his face. Then he looks up at me with his icy blue eyes, and I get the feeling he's mad, but somehow I know he isn't angry at me.

"Here." Dr. Evans hands that strange seizure calendar to Mom. "I made a copy so you can keep this one. Please continue to fill it out and bring it back each time you return to the center."

Mom nods and takes it from him.

"Were there any birth complications?" Dr. Evans asks.

"Kaden needed to be resuscitated, but he was perfectly healthy."

Evans nods. "Was Kaden ever sick as a baby or young child?"

"He was colicky, and he was diagnosed with asthma and ADD at a young age, but he was never hospitalized for anything."

"Any head injuries?"

She squeezes her hands together in her lap. "Well, he's a boy. Boys hit their heads."

Real smooth, Mom.

"Like I said," Mom continues. "The seizures started about six months ago. None of the tests could explain why. There was no sign of head trauma or brain tumors. No aneurysm, no virus, no fever, no abnormalities. They even redid the CT scan and MRI, and did a spinal tap, but they never found anything. Idiopathic, they called it."

That's me, the psychopathic idiot.

"It's fairly common to not know the cause of your epilepsy," Dr. Evans says. He's actually talking to me. Most doctors talk about me like I'm not even in the room. But this guy-he shakes my hand, he looks right at me, he talks directly to me. Almost like he actually cares. Maybe I really am in good hands with Dr. Evans. "If you want, we can do some digging," Dr. Evans says. "Sometimes just knowing why can make it easier."

Dr. Evans is completely wrong. We don't need to do some digging. Ever since I found out why I have seizures, I've been trying to bury it. I steal glances at Mom, who squeezes her hands together, and Logan, who glares at the wall. The last thing we need to do is talk about why. I hold my breath and shake my head at the floor.

"Well, let's talk about the actual seizures then," the doctor says. "Kaden, can you describe what happens before and during a seizure?"

I stare at the wall. Why is he asking me? I'm never there when it happens. "It just happens." I realize I'm holding my medical alert pendant, and I let it go. "I black it out."

"What happens after he passes out?" Dr. Evans asks.

"He shakes," Logan says. "It's really bad. Oh, and sometimes he kinda spaces out before it happens, for about five, ten seconds. If I pay close enough attention, I can get him down to the floor before he falls."

That makes the doctor's eyebrows jump up. "Some people have a little warning, an aura, before they have a tonic-clonic seizure," he says, looking right at me. "A funny smell, tingling, all sorts of odd sensations. Would you say you have an aura?"

I sigh heavily and stare down at my hands. "I dunno. It's hard to remember."

"Describe anything you can remember," he says.

I think back to the last seizure I had, yesterday morning. We had already packed the cars, and it was time for me to say goodbye to Jake and Lissa. Jake had this face like someone just killed his puppy right in front of his eyes, and Lissa was trying not to cry but failing miserably.

I stood there thinking the last thing I wanted to do was say goodbye to them. The next thing I remember is waking up in the car with a killer headache and finding out I was already in California. I can't even remember if I got to say goodbye.

Somehow my pendant ends up back in my hand. I squeeze it and say, "I can't."

"Do you ever have jerks in your arms or upper body?" Evans asks. "Maybe when you wake up in the morning?"

Before I can say anything, Logan explains my small seizures to the doctor. I still can't figure out which is worse. Waking up hours after a seizure I don't remember, or feeling my body move by itself, knowing there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Dr. Evans goes into this long explanation about how I'm resisting my medication, and that's why it isn't working anymore. Like it ever really worked. I roll my eyes. The short story is that he wants to take me off the Klonopin. At this point, I seriously feel like anything would be better than what I'm taking.

"You mean we need to try another medication?" Mom asks. I hold my breath.

"It will be in Kaden's best interest in the long run," Evans says. Mom glances over at me and nods, giving in. I sigh with relief.

"Before we change your medication, you need an EEG to confirm your diagnosis," the doctor says.

My shoulders sag. For some reason I thought things would be different here, but my new doctor wants me to take the same old worthless tests. I've taken that test three times already, and I don't see why it would actually help this time. Mom gazes over at me and nods. Just like that, it's decided. I have absolutely no say in what happens to me.

Dr. Evans rolls over to the counter and finds some forms, which he gives to Mom. For some dumb reason, he gives me a form too. He keeps talking, but all I hear is static white noise. I can't make myself listen anymore.

Another EEG, another medication, another round of mystery side effects and dosage tweaking. The last time I had that test, they changed my meds, and it got so much worse. The seizures, the dizziness, the headaches and exhaustion. The pills even make me queasy and forgetful. I'd almost rather skip all of it and just stay the way I am. At least I know what to expect now.

Lissa told me to stick up for myself. I thought Logan was going to, but he's sitting there like this is a good thing. Maybe it is, but this not knowing, it's going to eat at me. Sure, this is my best shot at getting better, and I want to, but what if it takes forever for my new pills to finally work, and the seizures get even worse before they get better? What if the new side effects are somehow even more awful than what I already deal with?

What if I go down at school? The rumors would spread so fast. Even if the seizures eventually go away, everyone will always remember that I'm a spaz. There's no hope for starting over after that. I knew there was no way I could ever be normal again. I can't believe I lost Lissa for this. My stomach goes cold as I realize for like the fiftieth time how pointless moving is.

I sit forward in my chair, but like an astronaut in space, my body just keeps going. Drifting off toward the ceiling.

I get a sudden urge to cry out, but I can't make a sound. Then I realize I'm still in the chair. I feel like I'm floating up, but instead of the ceiling, it's the floor that's getting closer and closer, a slow motion zoom-in. Before I can make sense of this, the floor hits me in the face, and it all goes black.