When I was first diagnosed as a teen, no one knew what to do with me.
My parents refused to use the “E” word. People treated me like I was some kind of pariah. (Which didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy either).
Guys never called back for a second date.
The Dilantin made me feel like a zombie…I even went into a coma once.
And my beautiful, long hair was falling out.
I couldn’t drive, couldn’t participate in athletics, couldn’t even get through a date.
I constantly had to lie. Or else no one would hire me. (Not good for their health insurance.) And I was constantly on my guard.
One day, the copy machine next to my office caught on fire. Everyone was evacuated from the building while I was laying on the floor of my office (with the door closed), out cold. When I came out…
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