“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die,
we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here.”
~ Sue Monk Kidd, author
p.s. - the first Storyteller was my sister Betty!
Writing daily about my journeys through books, movies and plays along with poetry, story, or an occasional wander into ideas, opinions or rants.
“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die,
we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here.”
~ Sue Monk Kidd, author
p.s. - the first Storyteller was my sister Betty!
Epilepsy ~a chronic brain condition
not the purple bruise on a face
but a purple flower in bloom
taking life by the hand between seizures
unwelcome sounds - rude or annoying,
un-choreographed movements:
~ convulsions that steal consciousness
momentary lapses that no one notices as odd
or behaviours that defy logic.
any or all and maybe more ~
when convulsions of any magnitude
defy medication, surgery and care,
the grip on living can become tenuous,
quality of life wilts
sometimes lost ~
lives given to others to manage
In the space between seizures
Family participation is challenged and will adapt
Education is challenged but goes on
Employment is challenged but continues
Community activity is challenged but develops
Health and happiness can be a daily challenge.
Epilepsy ~ a chronic brain condition
not the purple bruise on a face
but a purple flower in bloom.
“It appears to me to be no more divine nor more sacred than
other diseases, but has a natural cause….like other affections.”
~ Hippocrates,
On the Sacred Disease (written 2400 years ago)
Author’s note:
Epilepsy is no longer considered a brain disease, but is a brain condition. There are multiple causes, including stroke, brain trauma, any neurological brain damage and one form termed Idiopathic, meaning no known cause. Presently treatments are wide ranging - many different medications used depending on the individual, brain surgery if it is deemed appropriate, life style changes: any or all of them.
I reached with my mind
to cup the words
before they vanished
but that was eight hours ago ~
after a Monday life at home,
morning thoughts had been
left to hang out alone,
swept under the rug,
drifted out an open door,
swirled down a drain,
untethered words flying away
until and when time to return.
“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”
~ Sigmund Freud