Last night for some reason I got to thinking about Dad and about the seizures he used to have. I don’t remember the first time I found out my dad had seizures, but I have a few memories of being with or going to get him after a seizure. These experiences “traumatized” me, for lack of a better word.
There are at least 3 times I remember actual seizures. I don’t know how they fit chronologically.
The one incident that stands out most in my head occurred while we were living in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. We had gone on a father son camping trip. Darin may or may not have been there, I don’t really remember him being there. The camping trip was with the Indian Guides. I remember drinking “bug juice” for the first time and how crazy that seemed to me. I remember shooting a gun/rifle that had single loaded rounds and we got to keep some the shell casings. I remember picking them up and whistling in them. I remember making/wearing an Indian-type headband. I remember searching a creek for salamanders and frogs.
And then there was the horseback riding.
Perhaps growing to the point of legendary in my mind, but in my memory this was the thing I was looking forward to most. There was a corral that the horses were in, and it was just a hand lead walk with just the boys on the horses. We were standing beside the corral with the wooden posts, waiting our turn. The next part of the memory has my dad lying on the ground convulsing. I feel like I might’ve been sent back to the cafeteria or something, but ran back and forth between concerned for my dad. I remember someone talking about putting a stick in his mouth so he didn’t choke on his tongue. I remember being terrified. It’s really strange. In the memory there are few other people. Just me and my dad and this “anti-person” who’s tending to him on the ground. There’s also a kid on a horse, but not me.
I don’t remember how the story resolves… I don’t remember leaving the camp, I don’t remember how dad was tended to or any thing else.
I have some recollection of being at a doctors office or hospital, but I can’t tell whether it was the same incident or not.
There are some other times I remember….but not in nearly as much detail. There was the time at the fleamarket in Knoxville. Another time when we had to go get him from work in Columbia.
Strange things we remember about folks. Miss you dad!