Teenage baller Kaden Hastings has a fit when his family moves to California. He can handle the new medical diagnosis that slowly eats away at his life, but when his parents separate him from his teammates and girlfriend to move him to California to...
I trail behind and follow everyone inside the Epilepsy Center, through a hallway, and into a conference-style room. There's a table set up right inside the door, covered with name tags, pamphlets, lanyards, epilepsy cards, and pens.
I turn to look at the room. It's big, with six circular tables near the front, around a projector screen. There are people at every table. Almost all the chairs are already taken. Holy crap, I never expected there to be so many people here. Young and old people, even some kids playing with toys over in the corner. Everyone looks really comfortable, and so happy to be here.
"You need to make nametags," Mirna says.
I turn back to the table and watch Mirna clip her nametag to her shirt. "What's PWE?" I ask.
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"Oh." Mirna touches her nametag. "Person with epilepsy. Logan, you can put SP on yours. Support person."
"You label yourselves?" I ask before I stop to think.
Mirna gapes at me.
"It's more like a reminder for our members and a courtesy for our new people," Deb says. She doesn't sound embarrassed, apologetic, or defensive, she's just explaining. "Everyone here has been affected by epilepsy in some way. We all know that, and it's a big reason why we come.
"We're here to share experiences, make friends, give and get support, be comforted and feel comfortable," Deb goes on. "The letters on our nametags help us avoid those awkward questions so we can focus on what really matters instead of holding back because you're not sure who you're talking to."
She puts her nametag on: Deb SP. "You don't have to label yourself, but people will ask if you don't, and after the tenth time it might get a bit irritating."
Mirna puts her hand on my arm. "Don't be ashamed. Half of us have the same letters after our name." She's right. Besides, it's a lot easier to write three letters on my nametag than to tell a complete stranger that I have epilepsy. I nod and write the letters PWE after my name, slide the card into the plastic sleeve, and pin the nametag to my shirt.
Deb holds out a pile of stuff from the table. "I'm sure you feel like you've read enough already, but there's some really good information in here," Deb says. She smiles, so I take the stuff and nod.
Mirna picks a table near the front. There are two other people sitting at the table, and Mirna sits in the middle open chair. I won't be able to sit next to Logan. Where is he? . . . Oh, he went over to another table, the snack table. I roll my eyes and go up to Mirna. Nessa follows behind me. "Scoot over." I put my hand on the back of her chair.
Mirna turns and frowns up at me. "Why?"
I lean down closer to her and cross my arms on the back of her chair. She sets her jaw. Suddenly, asking her to move so I can sit next to Logan seems really stupid. We lock eyes; she smiles, and I do too.
