“Mom, I’m tired. I’m going to go lay down on the couch,” my 13 year old son tells me while sitting at the dinner table eating chili. He has barely eaten, which for him must mean he is sick. He looks at me and his eyes are very heavy. He stands and sways to his right, and then to his left before crashing to the floor. His eyes roll back in his head, he is gasping. A seizure. He has never had a seizure before. Oh, Shit! I’m a nurse, I know what to do, but this is my child! God I know you are here, hold him! I scream for my husband, who ushers our daughters from the kitchen, and because he is autistic, and I know he will not handle the whole ambulance thing well, call my dad. After loading him into the van, I drive like a crazy woman and thankfully do not get pulled over. Many hours later after a clean CT, blood work, and urine test we are dismissed from the hospital after declining the offer to be transferred to another hospital over an hour away for observation. His autism doc calls to check on him on Monday, who informs me that 1/2 of all children with autism have seizures, and 1/3 of those do not begin to have them until puberty. Holy Shit! He just said begin. Damn you autism! Damn you for robbing my kid of a “normal” life. Damn you for ruining our family, and slowly destroying my marriage! Damn you for robbing my kid from something simple like going to the amusement park because he is so afraid of the bees that will be outside. I hate you, there I said it!