My Story

At the sleep clinic- Doesn't it look like I just had brain surgery? (Don't worry, I've just got about 15-20 wires glued to my head scanning my brain) 

I’m going to tell you my story. I’m telling it now because I’m now beginning to understand it and its role in the grand scheme of my life (and possibly my eternal existence). My story doesn’t start a few months ago like most people think. No. It actually begins in the summer of 2008. The year I had my first seizure.

The first thing I coherently remember was waking up in the hospital, an IV stuck in my hand and my mom at my side. I soon slipped into unconsciousness again, but not before my mom explained to me that I had a seizure that morning.

At this point in my life, I still shared a room with my younger sister. She later told me that early that morning she awoke to a loud thud and saw me lying on the floor. She had never seen a seizure before, so naturally was a bit freaked at the convulsing sight before her. She immediately fetched my parents who then called 911. I have very fuzzy memories of the pediatrics trying to get me down to the ambulance and then asking me questions such as “what’s your name?” or “where do you live?”. I couldn’t answer “what’s the date?” since it was summer and as a teenager, you just don’t keep track of those things when there’s no school.

I was at the hospital for a few hours and then they sent me home. I immediately fell asleep and we thought the drama was over for the day. However, not even an hour later, I was waking up in the hospital again. I had had another seizure.

I stayed at the hospital for the rest of the day, slipping in and out of consciousness. Apparently I had many visitors, but I don’t really remember any of them, since I was completely out of it. I was eventually moved to another hospital so I could meet with a neurologist the next morning. I did meet the neurologist, but I don’t have many memories of that either, besides me getting explanations of whether or not I was considered an epileptic or not. Also that epilepsy is usually genetic, but I do not have any traces of epilepsy in my family tree whatsoever.

So, to sum up my condition at this point: I have epilepsy (meaning I have had more that one seizure). I have grand-mal seizures, which is when your entire body convulses. And we don’t know what triggers the seizures.

This was only the beginning. We had no idea what had started that fateful day in 2008. Eventually, I had another one. Same as before, early morning while I was still asleep. My parents had been given some recovery pills for me to take after I have a seizure, so they gave one to me and I was passed out for several hours.

I had another seizure some time later. Again, early morning while I was asleep. It kept happening again and again. I was averaging one or two seizures a month. I would always be conked out for hours afterwards. Eventually we realized it was the recovery pills that were knocking me out and not the seizures themselves. We got permission to stop taking them.

After a while, I had to get medicated for this obvious problem. The first medicine I tried is a story within itself. I had a major allergic reaction. I broke out in a huge red blotchy rash all over my entire body and got really sick (like a flu, with a fever and everything). I remember it was around the time we were supposed to get our family photos taken by a professional. We could not possibly reschedule! *coughs* So here I was with this hideous red rash all over me, including my face, and having to go get pictures taken to save for all our lives and send out to family. The night before, I had my dad and our neighbor/good friend give me a blessing. I don’t remember what was said, but I do remember that by the time we had to head out to the beach where we were going to get our pictures taken, my rash had completely cleared off my face and neck. Not anywhere else, but just my face and neck. It really was a miracle! So if you look at those picture, you’ll see I’m wearing long sleeves (when I was supposed to be wearing short sleeves) and the photographer did some photoshop on my hands.

Anyways, obviously I switched medications. I was on the next one for several years until shortly before I went to college, because it started to really affect my memory. I honestly had short-term memory loss and couldn’t even remember certain events in my long-term past. That was a really rough time for me.
So I eventually switched to a different one and my memory problems seemed to improve... at least for the time being. I’ll skip forward to when I went to college, because really, not much happened from then until the new medication besides lots more seizures. (One thing it definitely did do was change my appetite and metabolism so I lost nearly 20 pounds.)

Brain waves (and me)

Oh, I guess I should tell you about what I call the seizure hangover. Ever since I stopped taking the recovery pills, I didn’t stay passed out for nearly as long after a seizure. In fact since I switched to my newest medication sometimes I wake up almost immediately afterwards. However, that’s not always a good thing because then I experience the "seizure hangover". This is when I have a splitting headache, churning stomachache, whole-body-stiffness, major dizziness, extreme disorientation, and sometimes a bit tongue. Basically my entire body is in absolute agony. Before my new medication, I usually stayed out of it long enough to only experience the headache (which typically lingers for several hours if not all day).

Sometime after my first semester, my family began to notice that I often began to do this weird thing in the mornings where I would call out as if angry or distressed from a bad dream. I would never have any recollection of doing such a thing. We began to think that these might somehow be connected to the seizures.

Now that you know about all that, I’ll start with the real drama. For me, the seizures weren’t that big of a deal. They were basically just a sick day for me. I mean, I didn’t see it happening. I would wake up after the worst was over and just had to lay in bed for the rest of the day recovering. That is until right before college. Things began to change.

I didn’t realize things had begun to change until I was in deep. Way deep. I was practically done with my second semester when I started to notice something was wrong. However, I tried to just brush it off as a phase and I would soon be back to normal in no time. But soon, it was third semester and I was in over my head. I still tried to make excuses for it, but to no avail.

In high school, I had always been a fairly stellar student. I mean, I wasn’t a straight-A, top of the class type, but I got decent grades and always tried to do my best. I didn’t always pay attention, I mean who does? But I knew how to pull my focus and get the job done. I had only a few unfinished projects, whether from school or just from my own amusement. I wasn’t the most social person ever, but I knew how to talk to people and most people enjoyed being around me. I had some talents. And those talents I had I was good at. Not to toot my own horn, but I was and I loved doing them.

But now, all of that seemed distorted or gone completely. I was not the person I once was. I wasn’t Kelsi anymore. I had horrible grades, I couldn’t focus on anything, I couldn’t finish anything, I was even less social than I was before and was losing my ability to talk to people, and I was even losing my talents. (Like, I honestly could not play the piano anymore.) Something was seriously wrong. My dad described me as often having a fazed-over look in my eyes, like I wasn’t all there.

This didn’t suddenly happen though. It was a very gradual thing. I just kept sinking deeper and deeper into it until it was so bad that I got suspended from school for an entire semester because of my poor grades. I got two warnings previously of an impending suspension after each of my first two semesters, but I kept telling my parents and myself that I would do better next time, that it was just a fluke. I had gotten bad grades before and I had managed to fix it before. Everything would be alright. But it just kept getting worse.

I had begun to notice my lack of focus and minor short-term memory problems before my third semester had started so I made sure that my dad mentioned something about it in the traditional before-school-father’s-blessing. He of course blessed me with focus and perseverance to get through the semester. And then I went off to school.

I did manage to get through the semester, but that's all I did. Get through, not succeed. I tried though. I really did, to be a good student. But my attention span had deteriorated and my motivation to even go to a lot of my classes was not great. I didn’t even like going to church! Family home evening was a drag, I never went out socially. If I went anywhere, it was usually by myself. I mean, I’ve done that sort of thing before and a lot of that stuff hasn’t been so unusual in my past, but it was so exaggerated and extreme. It was like all my bad qualities (that I already had) were surfacing and becoming more prominent while all my talents and good qualities were deteriorating and disappearing.

I only ever wanted to sit/lie around all day watching TV. That’s seriously it. That’s all the brainpower I could/wanted to muster. If I ever tried to make a movie or write a story or draw a picture or something else I used to love to do, I would never finish it or even begin. I would just think about it and then never get around to it (like I said, that happens, but I would sometimes get around to it. But now I would fail to every. Single. Time.)

I was stuck in a rut.

So, I was suspended from school for an entire semester for my poor grades. I tried to appeal it, giving the excuse that my medication had been messing with my mind and ability to focus. I have here, the letter I wrote:

"I've been suspended, naturally, because my grades are not what they should be. For about the first half of this last semester my grades were up to par, but gradually they began to drop. I did try to fix them, but by that time it was too late and I was stuck with the low grades I received. I attended as many classes as possible and tried to concentrate on my work and finish it on time, but there was one big wrench thrown in the equation. I have Epilepsy. I had several more seizures this semester than I've had ever since it started back during my sophomore year of high school. The Epilepsy and the medication I take for it have been major stumbling blocks for me in my life ever since it started.

I am normally a fairly stellar student, not outstanding, I'll admit, but adequate. Before my Epilepsy and before the medication I was prescribed, I never allowed myself to drop below a C in any of my classes (except math, but I didn't have any math this past semester). I only have my seizures in the early morning right before I wake up. When I do wake up, I will be disoriented, sick to my stomach, have a headache, sore all over, and just unwell all around. And I will remain this way for several hours after, therefore I typically will not go to class on the days I have seizures and stay in bed, recovering. According to my Seizure Log, I had exactly 15 seizures this last semester.

The medication I take is another story. It can't be proven, but I and my family have noticed some changes in my personality since I started taking it. To name a few that applies to this situation: I cannot focus or concentrate as well as I once could, I'm not as sharp as I used to be, I can't retain information very well, I'm always tired, and I am easily distracted. I do try to fight these changes as best I can. I have to work harder than I used to and it's hard on me sometimes. Like I said above, I was doing pretty well for the first half of my semester, but I got a little lazy and let it slip. I believe I've learned my lesson and do not intend to let it happen again.

If you would like a doctor's affirmation of my diagnosis, I can get that to you, but I do not have anything available at this time." 

However, they wrote back, telling me that it sounded like I needed to get a grasp on my condition before returning since if I failed again, I would be expelled for good. I thought it was ridiculous, because I had convinced myself that I was fine, I was just a little fuzzy because of the medication, but I could control it if I wanted to (completely untrue, I must tell you).

So I came home with the intent of telling everybody that I was merely "taking a semester off" (which technically I was, just not of my own free will). Now that I was home, now what? My parents decided that I should get a job. January 2013, I start job hunting. I looked everywhere! I filled out probably 20 applications that month without success. Nobody was hiring and nobody wanted me.

Now, February came around. I had been living at home for an entire month now. I would constantly have these moments of depression where all my problems would just overwhelm me where I would cry over me being suspended from school, not having a job, losing my talents, losing my memory, no social life, no boyfriend (yeah, even that sometimes), no certain future, feeling out of tune with heaven, and family, friends, acquaintances that just don’t understand, etc. Why were all these things happening to me? Anyways, I would often have a little meltdown and just cry, sometimes pray to heaven, asking why.

Well, I was trying to get back in touch with my spiritual side since I really was not feeling it anymore, so I read the scriptures every night, playing the old “turn to a random page” game. So on February 14- Valentines Day, I had a heartfelt prayer about where my life was supposed to be going and why things couldn’t be better and then opened the scriptures randomly to D&C 39:8-12. Basically to sum it up it said that your heart is in the right place before me, I know you have seen great sorrow because you have been prideful and focusing on worldly things. But you’ll soon be delivered if you will listen to me. (Then it says to be baptized, but I knew it meant something else for me since I was already baptized). And if you do this, I have prepared you for a great work to preach the gospel.

I fell asleep pondering that.

The next morning, February 15, I began to despair over my unemployment again and how basically every single one of my talents don’t come naturally to me anymore. My future did not seem very bright to me. What was I supposed to do? Upset, I went and got my patriarchal blessing. It began to talk about how I would be of service to my fellow men and how many people will want to know more about the truth through my example. My mind immediately jumped to a mission (since with the recent age change, everyone had been asking me about it, and it had been on my mind lately), but it couldn’t be. It just meant everyday life, right? Then it said “I bless you with health and strength of both mind and body that you might accomplish all of the things that the Lord will have you do.”

That struck me hard. Lately I hadn’t had strength of body or mind at all, that was why things had been so hard. But then I realized it said “that the Lord will have you do”. Then I remembered the scriptures I had read the previous night and how they had said that deliverance was near if I would hearken unto his voice. I put a mission in the place of baptism in the scripture, and it fit me perfectly!

I had been fighting against it for so long. Ever since I was little, I had practically made up mind that I didn’t want to go on a mission. While all my friends said that they wanted to go on one, I always just sat there nodding, but really thinking “Nah”. Now, it had come and hit me over the head. My patriarchal blessing had been telling me for so long, but I was blind to it. I knew it was what I had to do. So that process was soon set in motion.

Finally, March came around. Fast sunday. My parents and I decided to fast to help me find a job since I had been searching for two months without success. At the end of the day, I really listened for an answer. Now, a thought entered my mind... I’m not supposed to have a job at this time. I wasn’t really given any reason why, but I supposed it was because I was supposed to focus on my upcoming mission. Like I mentioned before, I had been feeling kind of out of tune with heaven lately, so I felt a little unsure about the answer I got, but I shared it, apprehensively, with my parents... I’m not sure if they really understood it or believed it. So they kept pressing me to look for one anyway. I continued to fill out applications for about five more months. Still nothing. Literally, nobody wanted to hire me. It was like the job hiring world was conspiring against me. It was just unnatural. Something was actually keeping me from being hired.

Back to the mission, I eventually started the papers and good things came my way when I did. I got hired for some small temporary jobs like making movies or invitations. Even though they did not last long and did not pay a ton, it was at least something. I finished as much of the papers as I could as soon as possible, but then I got to the doctor’s section. Then began the great delay of many months.

The doctor analyzing my brain activity

It took me a long while to get out of my depression. Several months in fact. I mostly kept it to myself and hid it pretty well, so not very many people actually knew how upset I was all the time. I didn’t like to socialize very much because the only subjects people could ever think to talk to me about were things that pained me to talk about, like school (which I was suspended from) or my mission (which was delaying) or my job (which I could not obtain). Every time I had to go to a party or some sort of gathering, my mom would alway prep me and tell me to be strong because everyone was going to be asking me those questions. I knew I was starting to get better when those questions did not bother me as much anymore.

I’m going to share something very sad. It’s the only journal entry from my depression period (because I told you, I had a problem with starting and finishing things). I wrote it shortly after I finally admitted to myself that I actually was depressed and had a problem. I’m sharing this, just to show you how dark of a place I was in:

"Alright, it’s true. I am depressed. I have been for a while, I’ve just been in denial about it. What with me being suspended from school, not having a job, losing my talents, losing my memory, no social life, no boyfriend, no certain future, and family, friends, acquaintances that just don’t understand. Can you really blame me?

Also, I’ve just felt so out of tune with heaven. I just don’t feel the spirit as strongly as I used to. My prayers just don’t ever seem to be answered anymore or if they are, I can’t tell because I’m just so out of tune. Was it something I did? I know God doesn’t shun anybody because of their sins or flaws, but that’s seriously what I feel like right now. When I realized that I should go on a mission, I hoped that my going would help me get back in touch with my spiritual side, but so far there’s zilch. I haven’t actually gone yet, but I shouldn’t leave in this condition.

Now the mission is another thing. I’ve been working on my papers and Mom has been pressuring me to get them done ASAP, but I don’t want to leave before Angela’s wedding in July. I mean, she’s the first of my friends to get married and I might miss it. Also, I just found out that the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary premiere is in November. I have been waiting SO LONG for this and I might miss that too! I mean, it’ll always be there when I get back, but I’d have to wait 1 1/2 years. Besides, I probably won’t be as psyched and it’s more fun to see it at the same time as everyone else.

I know I’m sounding very worldly with the Doctor Who thing and that I should put God’s work first and stuff, but you’ve got to understand, my TV shows are all I have. They are literally my life. If I didn’t have Doctor Who or Sherlock or Psych or The Lizzie Bennet Diaries or Friends or Merlin or whatever, I probably would be in a much darker place than I am now. They are my small glimmer of light. When people turn to fictional characters, it’s often because they want an escape. The stories of these people shelter me from the storm of my daily life; they save me, if only for a little while. But when I really give in, become invested, let myself be vulnerable, something changes. I begin to feel that I know them. It’s no longer just an escape, but part of me, something that makes me who I am. These characters teach me that incredible adversity can be overcome. That people can love each other forever. That life can be an adventure. That magic can be real. And even if these miracles have never happened to me, we begin to go through life believing that, someday, they could.

I think one of the main reasons I am so depressed right now is because I’m not with my friends all the time like I was in high school. I mean, they all had such sweet spirits and positive attitudes. But now I hardly ever see them and I’m just left alone to my depressing thoughts."

This really was not a happy time for me. From about January to mid June I was in the mental Pit of Despair. Remember how I said earlier, I had been giving the excuse that it was the medication that was messing with my brain? (I mean, after all, it was brain medication and my problems hadn’t started until I started taking it). However, I soon realized that it wasn’t the seizure medication that was the problem, it was the seizures themselves. I was having too many too close together that my brain didn’t have enough time to heal itself before the next one came along, and gradually over time, it was beginning to have an effect on my mind.

Getting the wires glued on.

I should mention, I had had several EEG tests before, a take-home EEG test (that was fun. Not), an MRI, and now the only test left to be taken was a sleep test. I went to a sleep clinic in April to have my brain analyzed over a course of 3-5 days. I got all hooked up (with wires glued to my head and a camera set on me) and set up in a hospital room to prepare for a few days of hospital food.

I’ll not tell you about that strange experience that was the sleep clinic, but I will tell you the results. I was not having a seizure like they were hoping, even when they weaned me off my meds. So we did a strange thing and had everyone pray for me to have a seizure instead of the other way around. The last night, I had a perfect seizure. It was the first time I ever saw myself having one. It was not as horrifying as I thought, since everyone who has ever described it to me always talks about how scared they have been, but it was still pretty trippy seeing myself convulse uncontrollably the way I did (especially with absolutely no recollection of it).

The specialist analyzed the results and came to the conclusion that my seizures originated from the frontal lobe. The strange calling out things I do were smaller seizures that did not progress into the large grand-mal seizures. However, all were products of some activity in the frontal lobe, sometimes it just progressed into something bigger. Finally! Some new information! We still didn’t know what caused them, but at least we were getting somewhere!

So the goal was to stop my seizures altogether. Of course doctors are always happy if seizure activity is even lessened, but the goal is to stop it altogether. So, the specialist upped my dose in medicine.

At first, it didn’t make much of a difference, especially since I kept forgetting to take the extra pills in the morning. However, soon I worked out a system and took them all almost consistently. That’s when we get to mid-June, when I started to notice an improvement in my depression. I had noticed an improvement in my condition altogether before that since as of May, I hadn’t had a single seizure. That’s huge! I had never gone so long without having one. I hadn’t even been calling out. My medication was working!

Since I was starting to feel a little more motivated and less depressed, I decided to try working on a talent. I tried reteaching myself the piano. I started from my very beginner books and worked through them. I swear, my mom almost cried, she was so happy. I didn’t finish, but still, the fact that I even sat down at the piano after half a year, was an improvement.

What really got me going though was in July, when I pulled out the green screen and made a movie by myself. I remade The Hairbrush Song, one that I had made several years ago.  I hadn’t made a movie in so long! (I had thought about it, but never did). When I filmed it, edited it, and everything, it just sparked something inside of me. Not long afterwards, I made another one. Then another one, and another. I soon finished almost all the VeggieTales Silly Songs out there.

I even began to write my story again. The story I have been attempting to write for like four years now. I managed to write out a complete outline for it. It’s actually really good this time. I might even finish this version. I tried playing the piano again. I’m a little rusty, but I. Can. Do it. Mission papers are finally moving along again. Slowly, but surely. I’m hoping they’ll be out before the end of the year.

I did have another seizure in July. However, if it hadn’t been so long since my last one, I would have still been depressed. So the fact that I had one upset me a little, but I was not so devastated as I would have been a couple months earlier. My brain has had a chance to heal itself!

I was finally feeling motivated, focused, and ALIVE again!

So, since I don’t have such a dark and pessimistic outlook on life anymore, I’ve finally had a chance to look back over my trials and see how they have been for my benefit. I see how everything just comes into one big circle. The Lord truly has a plan for me, I’m just beginning to uncover it.

All this time I was going through these trials, I would be asking “why?” and looking up scriptures for answers. And every single time the answer would be “patience”. I absolutely hated that answer! I thought for sure there has to be something else. Like how to bear these burdens, or something of comfort. Nope. Always patience. I think I have learned something about patience though. It definitely took a lot of it to get through this. I mean, I always considered myself a patient person before, but now... I've got a new appreciation for patience and faith.

Back in Young Women's we would always learn about having faith and it just seemed so easy back then. Even when I went through trials back then, it was not hard for me to have faith that I could get through them. But after this... I have definitely gained a whole new outlook on what it means to have faith.

Then, there’s the job problem. For a half a year I filled out applications. I probably filled out around a hundred of them (that’s no exaggeration). I’ve filled out online profiles, gone to interviews, and still I was never hired. I got the answer early on that I was not supposed to have a job at this time, and even when I pursued one anyway, there really was something preventing me from getting one. I said earlier that I wasn’t given a reason why I wasn’t supposed to have a job, but I think I’ve figured it out. If I had a job during these past few months of my dark period, it would have put a black mark on my record. I mean, I really was not myself. My parents told me later that they did believe me when I told them my answer to our fast back in March, but they pressed me to pursue a job anyways just to give me a purpose and something to aim towards. It did play a part in pulling me out of my rut (even though it sometimes really beat at my self-esteem while it was down).

If I hadn’t been suspended from school and if I hadn’t gone through these trials, I never would have been down on my knees that day in February and I never would have come to the decision to go on a mission.

So, as you can see, it has not been easy for me. But I have gotten through it with God’s help (even if I couldn’t always see it). Trials are for our benefit, even if it may not seem like it (because it certainly did not seem like it for me). I love the Lord and I love Jesus Christ. Amen.