I started a new job about three weeks after that first fit.
On my eighth day in the office, having strapped in and chowed down on some serious Excel spreadsheets, I was getting on well. I'd sensibly let my co-workers know of my disposition and roughly what to do if I was to have a funny turn, but I'd assured them that this was very unlikely to happen.
Three days later I fell into my (female) boss's lap and had my second tonic clonic seizure.
Luckily, Helen works in the same building, and was quickly called. She ran down to witness her boyfriend dribbling all over the brand new scarf of a helpful first aider Jenny.
Helen quickly took me by the arm and repositioned me on my side.
My colleagues started to apologise to her that they hadn't already done the same, that they hadn't known whether to put me into the recovery position or not, and had decided - on the advice of the wonderful Jenny - to just make sure that I wasn't smashing my face into a steel chair or anything and just let me get on with it.
This is the right thing to do, by the way.*
I was taken to hospital again, and into the comforting office of Dr Kelso and his dulcet Scottish tones. I was pleased to hear that I hadn't suffered from incontinence, which can happen when mind and body refuse to listen to each other. No major embarrassment this time, I thought.
In the weeks that followed, I was surprised by how friendly everyone at my new company was. It was an incredible place, people would smile and say hello and ask how I was all the time.
It took me a while to realise that it wasn't so much that they were friendly, it was that they'd witnessed me fall into my boss's lap, gyrate around for a minute or so, fall to the floor and then stick my hands down my pants.
Seems that I'd taken trying to fit in too far.
* Helen had moved me onto my side because she thought I'd got a boner. Yes, you read that right. She did surreptitiously check and it turned out it was just my trousers doing their best to ruin me. Suffice to say, a week into my new job I was already known as the dribbling ball-fondling boner boy. Brilliant.
On my eighth day in the office, having strapped in and chowed down on some serious Excel spreadsheets, I was getting on well. I'd sensibly let my co-workers know of my disposition and roughly what to do if I was to have a funny turn, but I'd assured them that this was very unlikely to happen.
Three days later I fell into my (female) boss's lap and had my second tonic clonic seizure.
Luckily, Helen works in the same building, and was quickly called. She ran down to witness her boyfriend dribbling all over the brand new scarf of a helpful first aider Jenny.
Helen quickly took me by the arm and repositioned me on my side.
My colleagues started to apologise to her that they hadn't already done the same, that they hadn't known whether to put me into the recovery position or not, and had decided - on the advice of the wonderful Jenny - to just make sure that I wasn't smashing my face into a steel chair or anything and just let me get on with it.
This is the right thing to do, by the way.*
I was taken to hospital again, and into the comforting office of Dr Kelso and his dulcet Scottish tones. I was pleased to hear that I hadn't suffered from incontinence, which can happen when mind and body refuse to listen to each other. No major embarrassment this time, I thought.
In the weeks that followed, I was surprised by how friendly everyone at my new company was. It was an incredible place, people would smile and say hello and ask how I was all the time.
It took me a while to realise that it wasn't so much that they were friendly, it was that they'd witnessed me fall into my boss's lap, gyrate around for a minute or so, fall to the floor and then stick my hands down my pants.
Seems that I'd taken trying to fit in too far.
* Helen had moved me onto my side because she thought I'd got a boner. Yes, you read that right. She did surreptitiously check and it turned out it was just my trousers doing their best to ruin me. Suffice to say, a week into my new job I was already known as the dribbling ball-fondling boner boy. Brilliant.
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