Epilepsy. It's terrible. Maybe especially because you look and appear to be fine unless you're actually having a seizure. People who have epilepsy tend to be a bit slow in their thought processes as well so something that might be no problem for a normal person might take a person with epilepsy anything from a little longer to a whole lot longer. The medication also tends to sedate you a bit. You forget stuff. Simple stuff. Like what you did yesterday. It's hard to learn because you can't remember how to do things you've learned. It just......vanishes.
It can also be embarrassing because a lot of people don't really understand epilepsy. There are the old outdated ideas about demons and so forth. Then there are people who are just mean. It's practically impossible to get insurance that will cover your condition. I called one well known insurance agency and as soon as I said I had epilepsy she practically laughed in my ear and basically said "no way!". The meds are expensive, too. Mine is about $60 a week. And I HAVE to take it. If I didn't, I would just have seizures probably daily and would probably eventually die from them.
Sometimes I can't drive for at least 6 months if I've had recent seizures. Unless it's completely controlled, you can't risk it. And that's a whole hell of a lot harder to do than it sounds because even the best meds don't really completely control it.
Employers are not supposed to discriminate but who can blame them if they do? How are they supposed to accept the liability of a person who could suddenly lose consciousness at any given moment and drop like a stone? There is no real-world work environment that's safe enough. And yet, disability is very hard to get unless you have seizures very frequently. In spite of the fact that they are inevitable and could happen anytime, you'll get turned down for disability unless you practically have them weekly. I could fall down a flight of stairs and break my neck. I could fall through a plate glass window and cut myself to shreds. I could fall and slam my head into a sharp corner or a concrete floor. Hell, for that matter, I could put my head through a CRT monitor.
I had a fast food job and almost had a seizure whilst manning the fry station. That would have been fun! 350 degree oil reacts so nicely with human skin.
Everywhere I go, everything I do, the thought that I may have a seizure is always there in the back of my mind, itching like an itch you can't scratch. Sometimes the thought of it makes me dizzy and I can't tell if it's just because I'm dwelling on it or if there's a seizure coming on. The warning signs can be so subtle. It can be anything from a funny feeling to a subtle sense of deja vu. But if it's going to happen, it's going to happen and there's nothing I can do about it. Not a thing.
And the experience of having a seizure is not exactly what one might think either. People think you just pass out, thrash around for a bit and then you're fine. Not exactly. You do lose normal consciousness but there's this otherworldly reality that comes into play. Because your brain is basically going haywire and the electrical signals that normally follow the paths that they need to take for you to think, behave and function normally are scrambled and going everywhere, reality basically splinters and goes into a jumble and things that should be impossible can seem real in the brief moments of semi-coherent thought you may have. People who are trying to help (EMTs, paramedics, etc) can seem like enemies. You don't know who they are, why they're messing with you. You try to tell them to leave you alone but your words are either gibberish or so distorted, they have no idea what you're saying.
Basically, even though you normally know you have epilepsy when you're not having a seizure, you don't realize you're having a seizure when it's happening. What little bit of organized thought is possible is fixed on trying to figure out what the fuck is happening and why.
Things are no better when you finally start to come around. Your tongue is bitten, your mouth is full of blood. You have a splitting headache and you have no idea where you are or what happened. If you can get up, you stagger aimlessly around and talk nonsense. Eventually, you almost invariably fall asleep and sleep for several hours. Things are a tiny bit clearer when you finally awake from that but your head is still throbbing and anybody who's ever bitten their tongue can just imagine what it feels like to have bitten it really hard repeatedly. You can't say much because it hurts to talk. You can't eat. You usually can't do anything more than force yourself to drink a little water, which hurts if it's cold and stings a little even if it's room temp.
And this is all assuming they didn't cart you off to the hospital. Waking up completely disoriented and hurting in a hospital is no fun either.