Seeing Sparks

The Bottom

The medicine was meant to make all of this easier. The new box of pills had made its way into his bathroom cabinet, sitting there with everything else he used to keep his migraines under control. But unlike those medications, he had to take the anti-epileptic drugs every day – a constant reminder of this latest complication.

The possible consequences of missing a dose kept him organised even as the ream of side-effects made it so tempting to just forget about them. The fatigue was almost constant, weighing him down impossibly at first but eventually fading somewhat into the background. It was still there though, leaving him wiped out at the end of a long day.

The doctors wanted to keep going with it, slowly increasing the dose in the hopes that it would start to control the frustratingly frequent seizures that he was struggling to deal with. But with each added dose, the tiredness only seemed to get worse. Stephen was dreading the day they decided to try a new one, having to slowly reduce his dose of the first and then start the process all over again. New side effects, same disruption to his life.

And then there were days like today. Days when everything came together in a perfect storm. He wanted to sleep but was almost too tired. He could feel the beginnings of pain settling in the back of his head. Today, it felt never ending.

He wasn't really paying attention to the TV, playing with the unfamiliar band on his left wrist. He didn't want to have the engraved piece of metal pressing against his skin, reminding him constantly of this recent diagnosis that he was struggling to accept. The carved words taunted him when he ran his finger over them.

Epilepsy

DOB: 04/04/1977

NHS: 485 593 3284

ICE: 07938 492 819

The striped band; red, purple and white; was arguably too cheerful for the information it held. Dec had pointed out, rightly, that it needed to be visible, to catch someone's eye if Stephen had a seizure around unfamiliar people. Still, Stephen didn't like knowing that he had to wear it. He didn't want it to be obvious when he was filming – to give people a chance of working out what was wrong with him.

The contact number was Ant's. Neither Ant nor Dec had looked confident at that the prospect of being the person responsible to answer first responders' questions in case of an emergency but Ant had been the one to offer in the end. Stephen knew they'd both tried to hide their reluctance too, that it came from a fear of messing up rather than the extra responsibility it gave them, but he still felt more like a burden than normal.

It fastened like a watchstrap, seemingly innocuous until you noticed that there was no timepiece, just the metal plate and that one word Stephen didn't want to think about. When he wasn't having a day like today, he fantasised over the most recent seizure he had being the last. Maybe the doctors had jumped to conclusions, giving him a diagnosis so quickly. Sure, he'd had at least two seizures in short succession and maybe his second EEG had come back with all the trademark signs of epilepsy but that didn't mean it was the case. And yeah, there had been other seizures since then but maybe...

Maybe he'd never have another seizure again.

Or maybe he'd have another one today. It certainly felt like he could, the warning signs hard to distinguish from the suggestions that he might be about to have a migraine but leaving him feeling particularly lethargic this afternoon.

Stephen blinked and concentrated on the TV screen, frowning when he noticed an advert break. It felt like time was slipping through his fingers again because he swore the show had been on a second earlier. He scraped a hand through his hair and tilted his head against the back of the sofa. His fingers were trembling in a way he wished he could ignore but knew he shouldn't. Then his head was feeling heavy out of nowhere, threatening to pull his entire body down until the ground swallowed him whole.