My big girl graduated high school on Friday. So I am officially old. As you may already know, it has not been a easy road. She has epilepsy (currently about one seizure a week), autism, learning disabilities. Until sometime in January she also had what we thought were chronic migraines. Turns out they were side effects of Oxycarbazepine. (I mention the drug because I want everyone to know that it can cause symptoms that look a lot like atypical migraines and if that is happening to you or someone you know you should get the hell off that drug ASAP and not lose five years of your precious life.)
But that's not what this post is about so let's not dwell on that. Instead, let us raise a glass to the girl, who has endured more than most people ever will and who has--except for when the goddam Depakote reduced all her blood count levels and the doctors thought she might have Leukemia--started off every day with a smile.
She is blessed with a sunny disposition and with fortitude. I would love to take credit for those things, but those are all her. She is a skinny slip off a thing. The evil Topamax made her stop eating for a while. That was at the same time as the evil Depakote so it was all a bit of mess for a while. But she has decided once again that she likes brownies so I think all cause for alarm at her declining weight can cease and desist.
The thing I hate more than anything is when people pity her (or us) or feel sorry for us. Because if you pity or feel sorry for her (or us) you aren't really seeing her (or us). You are only seeing what you're afraid of. She is not your cautionary tale. She is not the inspirational story that helps you appreciate how good you have things. She is not about you. She is not even about me (although that one is harder for me to acknowledge). She is about her. And she is remarkable. She has much to offer and she will accomplish much.