Rose had seizures everywhere.
On these many occasions, I plaster a smile on my face and look folks in the eye as they glance and walk by.
Nothing unusual about a grown woman sitting on the floor/ground beside an unconscious little girl.
Rose had a particularly dramatic series in an undisclosed, public location.
As I was sitting on the floor in a hallway, a woman with healthy children walked by, patted me on the shoulder and said “Be brave” and walked away.
I am on the floor. My child is unconscious, again.
Be brave?
Do you tell a person with cancer to be brave?
Do you pat the shoulder of someone being wheeled in to open-heart surgery and whisper “Be brave”?
What choice do we have?
Seizure. Stop the clock. Then we wait.
Seizures stopped ballgames, picnics, award ceremonies, bible school, band practice, ball practice, dinners in restaurants.
Stop. Wait. Hurt? Get up.
Stop. Wait. Hurt? Get up.
I am tired of being brave.
How about sitting on the floor with me?
Wait with me. Down here on the floor.
Anchored to this spot until it’s over.
Until she comes back to me.
Stay and help us up.
If you really care, don’t walk away,
leaving us to be brave,
down here,
alone,
afraid.
SEIZUREMAMA
Seizure Mama and Rose 