When I was in my 30’s, I worked real hard and made pots of money. No sleep. Many seizures. But big bucks.
At the advertising agency where I worked, when I saw the couch in my office, I thought: “Well, I guess I’m important.”
Little did I know that I’d end up sleeping on it. And having many seizures.
Then there was the time I was sent to San Francisco to “save” an account.
I saw the pizza boxes and thought: “Great. I love pizza.”
Little did I know I’d be eating pizza for the next three days. And having seizures.
At the “victory lunch”, I slid from the chair to the floor.
Luckily, they thought I was exhausted. (Which I was.) The perfect foil for the seizure I was having.
But I had done it. I fooled them again.
Now, thirty years later, I still work real heard. But I don’t make any money.
I write out of love. And for all those who have to keep epilepsy their “dirty little secret”.
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