Are we going to your place? No, it wasn't a proposition!

It sounded like a proposition, I grant you, although it definitely wasn't and the man who thought he was being propositioned reacted loudly - and dramatically - to assure everyone else (who might have overheard) he was having nothing to do with it.

Let me explain. I'd travelled over from Windsor to Twickenham to see a copywriting client and so was dressed for a business meeting (decent dress, good jacket - that's significant.) Had popped in to see a friend and during our chat had noticed a few 'whizzies' flying around my head but hadn't mentioned it to her and she hadn't noticed anything different in my demeanour.

I arrived back at Twickenham railway station to catch the 16.22 to Windsor & Eton Riverside but as the train pulled in, the seizure - that I now realise I'd been warned about as I was talking to Marilyn - finally happened: but not as most people know it!

I was sitting down and turned to the man next to me, who I suddenly thought was my other half and asked if we were getting the train to Windsor. He said he wasn't getting that train because he was going to ********* (I don't remember the name of the place) and I asked if I should go with him.

He shouted that he'd never seen me before in my life and jumped up as if to move away from someone who seemed seriously diseased. The shock somehow brought me out of my daze and I managed to tell him I'd had an epileptic seizure. To be fair to him, I remember him asking if I needed medical help and I said I didn't.

He scarpered, the train pulled out and I was left sitting on the platform bench for 30 minutes in total silence. Nobody who witnessed the event asked if I needed anything - even if it was just to make sure I knew the time of the next train since confusion was my only 'crime'. I looked a well-dressed businesswoman, not a hooker and there wasn't the slightest smell of alcohol on my breath. Nobody had any excuse for not trying to help but people aren't good with 'odd' and matters of the mind.

The reality is, if I'd tripped and made a mess of my leg I would have been inundated with offers of help. People are good with plasters!

I have to laugh at my ep sometimes....

This story happened a while ago but it doesn't date. Date being the operative word! 
I hadn't long split from my husband and was seeing the new man in my life. It was about time, I figured, that I told him about the form of epilepsy I had - just in case. Better for him to be forewarned.
But what if he was shocked? What if he had the usual old prejudice? I hadn't known him that long and I wasn't sure how he'd react.
Anyway, why was I even thinking about it. It was hardly like I was going to have a seizure....was it?
All this was going through my head as I walked to the pub where he was waiting with a glass of wine for me. It was a beautiful summer's afternoon and we took our drinks out into the garden to sit near the river.
Nick started to say something - and I haven't a clue what because, apparently, I suddenly jumped up, started fiddling with my top, moved onto my trousers and then demanded to go home for coffee without taking so much as a sip of the wine. Nick, understandably, was a little surprised and persuaded me to settle for a much nearer cafe. I grabbed his hand and marched him there at some pace - my conscious mind knowing nothing of what I was doing!
But by the time my cappucino arrived I was 'back in the room' - realising that 'it' must have happened because I was in a different place, looking at a different drink. I know how odd that must sound to anybody who doesn't have epilepsy: 'how could she still walk and talk but actually be "out of it"!'
Honestly, it sounds odd to me when I hear the story. It's like it happened to someone else which is why, maybe, I've learnt to laugh at it!
And if I hadn't decided to tell Nick there and then, he wouldn't have realised the episode was epilepsy - or even suspect behaviour. He still maintains that he thought the clothes fiddling bit was me being attacked by a wasp/bee and the coffee demand was simply me deciding I didn't want alcohol.
Looking back, I think the seizure might have emerged out of the desperate hope that I wouldn't have one. Oh well! It taught me to lighten up and relax.

Going walkabout - that's a form of epilepsy too!

If I say 'epilepsy' you probably picture someone convulsing on the floor, maybe foaming at the mouth. That's the stereotype - perpetuated by the media, particularly TV because a dramatic flake and shake needs no narrative. For many of us, though, our seizures look nothing at all like that.
Take my friend, Claire. She's a highly-skilled cartographer, holds down a hugely important job and happens to have had epilepsy since she was very young. She makes me laugh when she tells me of one particular kind of seizure she's experienced: basically, wandering.
I'll let her explain...

Claire

"I'd just wander off for miles and miles - sleepwalking is close to what we mean but it's obviously not that. I'd miss huge pieces of time, walking around in a sort of parallel universe. Nobody recognised that as epilepsy and it caused the strangest situations in my life. When I came round, conscious enough to know that I was lost, I'd bluff my way back to where I'd come from. You know, pretend I was a tourist, ask someone for directions - pretend I was meeting somebody at the junction, or something.

"I stopped trying to explain I'd had an epileptic seizure after a few attempts where people just didn't believe me. It didn't fit with the idea they had about the condition.
"There was a time when I was at a conference at Gatwick and walked out, though security, all in a trance. I walked along the Gatwick to London road which is rural at the Gatwick end and when I came round, thought 'Where am I!'
"There were just cars whizzing by; no houses, no people to ask - just grass, well that doesn't help much does it! All I could do was walk one way or the other and I didn't even know which way I'd come from. If there'd been houses I would probably have acted the 'lost tourist' and knocked at a door but I had to walk to the next sign. I got to a junction that said London and remembered I hadn't been in London.
"Meanwhile back at the conference they'd realised I was missing and had phoned my late father, who I'd given as next-of-kin. He was dying of cancer at the time but was calm, telling them not to worry. I eventually made my way back just by walking in the right direction. I didn't know for what reason I was going there - just hoped it would become clear when I arrived."
The episode took a total of three hours out of Claire's life: missing moments which, added to her many other walkabouts, add up to a sizeable chunk of missing time from her life. That, in itself, is an odd concept. It's also a specific example of the 'other' type of seizures, post-epileptic automatism in this case, that are rarely talked about but make a colossal impact on people's lives.