About fifteen years ago, I was walking down my neighbourhood with a childhood friend when I suddenly heard a loud cry from her. On turning to her, I noticed that she was on the floor, jerking and foaming at the mouth. I stepped back, watched her for a split second and disappeared into the crowd that had gathered at a distance. Nobody wanted to touch or be touched by her. And I didn’t want to be associated with someone who had seizures.

I watched from a distance, there she was, jerking, unaware of what was happening to her, lying on a road surrounded by strangers who were not willing to lift a finger to help her. Instead, they were content watching her jerk and giving side comments. She could get wounded! She could choke on her secretions! In a flash, I understood the gravity of what was happening to her and what I had done. I slowly made my way back to her, by this time she had slept off, I carefully placed her on her side with her head extended. I then arranged for her transfer to the hospital.
Of course, I knew what happened to her - She had a seizure! I know a little about the disease being an avid reader. I know that a seizure is a disease just like other diseases. I know it is not contagious and I also know that it is treatable.

Why did I run away from my friend? Because I was afraid of what people will say. Some people even consider it a taboo to mention the word epilepsy or seizures around them. It was a defining moment for me. A decrescendo - crescendo experience. I must confess I feel ashamed when I remember the first part of the story (where I fled from my friend) and I feel like a hero who could stand up for love and commitment when it comes to friendship when I recall the second part.
Of course, I only remembered to tell her and others who cared to listen about how I saved the situation. Somehow my brain decided to forget about the part where I initially disappeared.

read more on http://medicalinfosblog..com.ng/2016/12/the-stigma-of-epilepsy.html