Posted on 02/01/2013 by Confirmedspinster Crossposted at Epileptiblog Fourteen years ago, I woke up in the hospital. I was a senior in high school, and I'd just come home from a trip to audition for a drama scholarship. I'd felt awful during the entire trip. I'd had a bad cold, and I couldn't sleep at all. I'd finally come to my own home and I'd fallen asleep in my own bed. But I woke up in the dingy little hospital that served our county. My mom told me I'd had a seizure. I was confused and tired and sore, and a little bit panicked. This had happened before, but it had been so long ago. I hadn't considered that it could happen again. When I was six, I'd woken up in that same hospital after a seizure, too. After tests and tests and tests (it seems like a lot in my memory, but I was just a little child), we found out I had a cyst on my brain. I'd had surgery. It was gone. I was fine. Or I was ...