Last night I had a really bad seizure. I don’t remember a lot except throwing up many, many times; being dead tired; being afraid of going to sleep because I was throwing up, and I didn’t want to aspirate; and roomie helping me.

And now I’m remembering that this is a joke to some people. This thing that hurts me, that scares me, that could possibly kill me, is something that’s played for laughs in the “real” (not concerned with me at all, non-disabled, non-epileptic, could give two shits) world.

I keep forgetting how very little I matter.