So, this is an entirely true story. It all happened, but it was sort of a blur so the details are a bit off.
TRIGGER WARNING: If you have had any experience with seizures that caused trauma, do not read this story.
Chapter 1 of 1 (I do a lot of really short stories...)Edit
Today started out like any normal morning. Mom woke me up to get ready for school around the usual time. I put on a short sleeved TARDIS t-shirt and set about making my morning routine. I brush my teeth, as I would every day, and then set to work on trying to coral my mess of hair. After an arduous struggle, it decides to lay down somewhat. I note that it's getting sort of long, and I should probably get a haircut sometime this week.
Being done in the bathroom, I take a seat in my chair, gathering up my backpack, plugging in my phone to make sure I have plenty of battery (High school offers plenty of work but there's always time for texting.), and I make sure that my glasses and beloved TARDIS necklace are on the table next to me.
I turn on my phone and decide that it's a bit early to text my best friend, so I check Instagram, tumblr, and then set about playing some random apps on my phone. That's about when the normalcy stops.
My brother shows religiously. Twice a day, once in the morning, once at night, without fail. I hear Mom talking to my sister, trying to wake up her up. And then it starts. I hear my brother Trey making some sort of laughing/ gargling noise in the shower. I can't tell what he's saying.
"Trey, what're you doing?" Mom asks, walking towards the bathroom door. "Are you alright?" No words come from the shower, but I hear several loud thuds and more noises. Mom instantly grabs the key on the door frame and unlocks the door.
And then she screams. I turn off my phone and bolt up. Chaos is exploding around me. There's a short hallway between my chair and the bathroom, and I shove past Mom to see what's happening. At first all I hear is Trey choking. He's never been a particularly happy person, and I often worry what might happen if he tried to take his own life. From the noises, it sounds like he's trying to drink the toilet.
However, when I run into the bathroom, Trey isn't in the toilet. He's laying down in the shower. First of all, I notice that he's naked, something that I will probably never ever erase from my retinas. Then, I see his entire body jerk wildly. The word forms in my mind before I hear Mom scream it to my dad.
The next half hour flies by. Trey was never epileptic. The only interaction I've ever had with seizures was a dog I had once. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one terrified. I dart through the living room, somehow not impaling myself on an end table, and grab our phone. I dial 911 viciously, trying to focus over the noise of my pounding heart and the screaming going on. Pretty much everyone is crying at this point. I don't even notice it, but I am.
The phone call rings a few times, but by then Mom grabs the phone from my hand and runs back to Trey. That's when I lose it. I hardly make any more sense out of the morning. I type a frantic text to my best friend, which is generally my best bet when I'm having a breakdown. Tears run down my face without stoppage, but I still feel eerily calm. I'm terrified, but as with other horrifying things, my brain has trouble thinking of it as real. There's no way Trey is sprawled out in the shower. It's not happening. It can't be.
My friend responds within a minute, which I'm thankful for. It seems like she's always there when I'm having problems-which is often-, and it always makes me feel like I owe her. I give her a quick rundown, and by then the first responder has shown up. I can't bring myself to sit up, to go see what's happening, but I can hear him talking to my brother, checking his speech. Luckily, it seems like he's starting to get better by now.
He answers the questions, provides his name, tells the man who the president is. Apparently they have a set of questions ready for 17 year olds who have seizures while taking a shower. I'm still in my chair, trying to stop the crying.
The ambulance gets there in about thirty minutes, and I vaguely register that my grandparents show up. They take my brother to the hospital, and I make the decision to go ahead and go to school to take my mind off of things. My grandfather drives me there, but we got a late start so I just barely get there before the bell rings to go to class. I find my friend in the "commons" (It's a friggin' cafeteria, school system, call it what it is.). I walk towards her and she asks why I was here.
I don't necessarily trust my voice, so I lightly shrug my shoulders. She looks at me and asks if I'm okay.
I just shake my head and cry a bit more.
Fortunately, I put on my brave face for the other people that I don't want to burden with my problems. Throughout the day, it gets easier, mostly because I constantly get texts from my family that my brother is awake and responding, with normal vital signs.
He went home this afternoon, with no ill effects besides a good bit of soreness from his fall. We're trying currently to find out if this was an isolated incident, and what exactly what caused it. As for me, I'm doing what I always do: Hanging on.