I was introduced to the world of epilepsy as a months-old infant when I sustained a severe head injury. That required extensive treatment in the hospital. (Of course, I have no direct knowledge of this; I was told the full story much later.)

As a child, I don't remember having any seizures, but do remember taking various anti-seizure drugs, mainly Dilantin and phenobarbital. I'd get checkups from a neurologist, which was fine, except for having my brainwaves measured. This required numerous electrodes to be attached to my scalp, a very uncomfortable process.

After years of no seizures, I was taken off medication in my teens, and forgot all about it. Until late 2001, when I started having seizures again. That's what brought me back to the hospital, back to a neurologist, and medication that has kept my symptoms under control.

It happened in December in the early morning at a friend's house. I had been up late the night before, and went to bed exhausted. The seizures felt like being repeatedly shocked with a car battery. I saw lights flashing in synchronization as my face twitched, my arms flopped and my chest heaved. I emitted a low groan, as air was forced past my vocal cords.

A friend heard me, and I vaguely saw him as he asked if I was OK. Being otherwise occupied at the time, I could do no more than move my head slightly. After a minute or two, the twitching and flashing lights slowed, but got stronger. A few more twitches and it was over.

I tried to talk, but couldn't. I knew what I wanted to say, but only inarticulate sounds came out. So I laid down and rested a few minutes. Then I was able to talk. Not that there was much to say.

"It's back," I thought to myself, stunned. (This was actually the second seizure I had; one had taken place a month earlier under much the same circumstances, but I tried to shrug it off as a fluke.)

At the insistence of my editor, I went to the emergency room at Tri-City Medical Center for examination, driven there by a colleague. There, I was given Dilantin in what is called a "loading dose" -- a higher than normal amount to make sure the drug took effect as soon as possible. It made me drowsy, and after being taken home, I slept.

Shortly thereafter, I visited a neurologist and was given a prescription for a generic form of Dilantin. Naturally, I was concerned about whether I could drive. But my form of epilepsy is relatively mild and sleep-related. When I am awake and active, the worst symptom I have is a facial tic. I also have partial control over the symptoms when active.

Looking at all of the factors, the neurologist determined it was safe for me to drive. I did have to requalify myself in a DMV driving test, however. I felt like a teenager again, but not in a good way.

Living with epilepsy

In the years since then, I've learned skills to reduce the risk of seizures. The most important is to avoid extreme exhaustion and lack of sleep, and watch the drinking. I carry medication in a keychain vial, in case I forget to take it before leaving home. It cost me $5 at the drug store, but is worth infinitely more in reassurance. And it appears that massaging the sides of my face prevents or shortens the facial tics.

It's not perfect control, but it works. I've thought about trying other medications, but for now I don't see the need. Dilantin is a well-understood medication and inexpensive. I briefly tried another drug which had the promise of more complete control of the tics. But I changed my mind after reading that potential side effects including problems in thinking ability. No, I told my neurologist, I'll endure the residual symptoms and keep whatever thinking ability I have.

It helps that I come from a medical family. My mom was a nurse aide and all three of my sisters work in hospitals. And hearing from your newly acquired peers helps, too. Some people find help in support groups, where they can discuss problems with those who understand from first-hand experience.

I've found help from reading Web-based support groups, especially one named Crazymeds (www.crazymeds.org), "your one-stop portal for the mentally interesting." Crazymeds was started by Jerod Poore, a man whose mix of problems make mine look trivial: bipolar, autistic and epileptic.

Crazymeds subscribes to the HON code for medical sites, assuring the site presents ethical and accurate information. More about the HON code is here: (www.hon.ch/visitor.html).

As the name cautions, Crazymeds isn't squeamish about discussing brain disorders in graphic language. People used to tip-toeing around the subject will be shocked with the rampant taboo-violation. But after that shock subsides, what's left is just some people with similar problems, helping each other. And that's a pretty sane way to be.

Contact staff writer Bradley J. Fikes at (760) 739-6641 or bfikes@nctimes.com. To comment, go to nctimes.com.