PRAISE FOR THE WISE

BLESSED ARE THE WISE AT HEART,

FOR THEIRS WILL BE SAVED,

BY THE HAND OF THE LORD

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

There comes a time in a person’s life when he or she wants to share their stories or problems with others so that they can reach out to other individuals before we realize that that time we wish to have runs out, and there is nobody else capable of telling these lifelong stories but themselves. These are the more then major things that have happened to me, but I did not know yet when or how to share them due to the intensity of some of them. (Please be aware though that these stories are not all, so to say, peachy, as they are down to earth)!

There are reasons of why I am alive today, why I can share the knowledge that I have about my serious conditions with you. My life has been a battle of ups and downs, struggles and sacrifices, schools, bullies, sports teams, you name it. But, my mentality has never escaped me as is; I WANT TO AND CHOOSE TO DO BETTER, WORK HARDER SO THAT THE TIME WILL COME WHEN I CAN HELP ANOTHER LIVING SOUL IN NEED!

Blessed are they who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

I have been pushed to my limits many times repeatedly and have not succumbed to them, all of them, along with some of the amazements that even my own doctors didn’t see coming. From absence (Petit Mal) seizures to generalized Tonic-Clonic (Grand Mal) seizures to almost being killed on a bicycle over a street divider thrown into on-coming cars and only breaking my left collateral (collar bone) when I was thirty riding to see my future wife.

Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the land.

This was the my first and only bone ever to be broken, and I remember these things like it was yesterday. I opened my eyes laying there on the ground, my front wheel bent, not spinning, with five cars around me. About ten Good Samaritans, almost all of them said that they had family members with the same problems (once I told them) helping me up calling for an ambulance. But they could see that there was a problem, something wrong with myself, a normal pedestrian. All I wanted was to do was rise like I always did and say thank you for the help! They said to stay down, your hurt, and we already called for help. My biking helmet still on, secure, but that was the very last time I road my $1,400 Specialized mountain bicycle, or anything on wheels ever again. I never wanted to see a bike, especially that bike, from the memory of almost being killed. But my brother Michael wanted to fix it for himself, so I let him have it, although it mostly just stayed put in the garage where he left it.  

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be satisfied.

At 29yrs of age, a broken collateral can be healed on its own, depending on the damage done, but at 30, it’s a nice steel bar with 9 long screws, 6 down and 3 across, which still hurts to this day, and will forever. Any pressure placed on it, mostly by Michelle’s arm being thrown over or across my head for a simple hug is too much. I already had a VNS in my left pictorial wired to my throat, which is a piece of metal that can never be removed. When I left that hospital, I felt more and more like Robocop, as I joked about with my friends. I was alive because I was smart, if I had not of been wearing my helmet, I would have fractured my head, face and jaw. Let’s just say that I would have died! But God knows that I am far smarter than the ones you see on the road today, riding bareheaded! 

Blessed are the merciful,

for they will be shown mercy.

And then the Grander of my falls which sealed the deal of me being watched 24/7/365, and to date:

The LIRR Train Track Incident of 2012!

Going into details about that haunts my parents, my father mostly still today who were there to see it happen. Nightmares of that day when the three of us were standing at the Auburndale Station one late afternoon and me checking to see for a train coming any time now. Something I did for years, alone. That day I thought that I would go again, without anyone’s help. We were the only three people there at the time on that platform, and when the signs say stay back, away from the tracks, you do it, because then something like this may happen! My mother cried for months about this accident and myself when telling me stories about my father crying in bed for nights trying to understand Why?

Blessed are the clean of heart,

for they will see God.

Why his son, a 200-pound healthy man can suddenly fall dead down onto a 6 foot drop railroad track smashing the right side of his body head first, as we thought at the time. A hero, my father, jumped down, helped me up, and we walked the entire other way of the train track, slower than ever, until we finally made it to an old wooden ladder that we could climb. With no train in sight.

I had blood that was gushing out of me from what I thought at the time was my chin. And we waited and waited and waited which seemed like forever until the ambulance finally arrived. I noticed a man and a woman with a stretcher, and the man was average in size, but the women looked like she could have been my young baby sister. I didn’t freak out, but I did ask if they were anyone else with them. I kept saying to myself “This is going to be interesting”, and I was right. Rolling me over and into that ambulance took a bit more time then I would have appreciated. And then there was the big question, “Where are we taking him, he’s epileptic!” They started with Booth Memorial, but in years past Booth has no idea what epilepsy is, not one neurologist on hand. So, my mother and I were fighting with them to take me into NYU, my hospital full of neurologists, and especially my own! But then the driver said “Where is it, how do I get there”? and he wasn’t kidding. I wanted to grab him by the throat and say, “What kind of a damn ambulance is this?”! I was obviously in no shape to. I rolled my eyes and my mother took control of things from there.

Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called children of God.

Into NYU we went and my father was traveling right behind us. We were still confused, nobody had an answer, and I was still bleeding profusely. But my face was fine, it had already been cleaned from inside the ambulance. My head on the other hand, was not good and different doctors told me different stories. The facts though, first was that the blood that hadn’t stopped was from blood in my brain. The second, was that my shoulders, broader than most, hit the ground before my head hit the track, saving my life, but it wasn’t done with yet. Another doctor said that he noticed a crack in the back of my scull.

After that I spent a couple of weeks in NYU having to flush the blood build up out of that same ear, while keeping my head to its side. Draining the blood out was a job that had to be done by myself, under supervision, without doctor’s tools or surgeries, just check-ups (This had to be done at home for a long time until the blood was completely drained out, in bed. This went on for a year, and some)!       

Now, this one doctor’s assumption and observation of my fractured cracked skull could have been wrong, but he may have been right as well. This is because that first night on that bed at NYU, without a doctor or nurses visit, was healed. That morning when doctors and nurses started to pile in, testing me about the usual, Name, Day, Time, How many fingers and such. I answered all their questions correctly and then when they checked the condition my head was in, they were all confused and amazed at the same time. I was just waiting to hear what the plan was now, yet I was not afraid of what they were about to say, and then I heard them chit-chatting like all doctors and nurses do, that it’s okay, he’s good. And then telling me that my head was healed, with wide opened eyes!

The blood although, persisted, and to this day on I find blood every day in my ear and more in my nostrils. Everything that comes blown onto a rag has dry and crusty blood, more than the average gook which is expected.  

Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,

for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.

The major falls continued throughout 2012, but this time it was in my bathroom, again. An metal heater can do great damage if it is fallen on and can slice the not so fortunate up like falling on shards of glass. I had four staples shot in my head to prove it. I was very lucky to of not been severely hurt, it hurt a lot less going in than coming out. It’s not a string, and it needs to be pulled out medically with a pair of pliers. For a word of advice, make sure that there is a man in the room, or a tough woman who knows her stuff, because I had my head yanked round and round by another one that could have passed for my baby sister, again! Just goes to figure. I had enough and told the girl to find someone capable, and one, two, three, four, they popped out, with a man’s help! (my wifecushioned the heater right after to keep me protected from that ever happening again!).

Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you falsely because of me.

Rejoice and be glad,

for your reward will be great in heaven.

Once that was all over and done with, I wanted my first tattoo to be a rather large one of Jesus Christ on my right arm with my father’s name Arcangelo Fiacco under it, scribbled in professionally as ‘MY FATHER, MY HERO’, for lifting me off those train tracks, risking his own life, like all great fathers would do, before being killed on those tracks by an on-coming train. My great parents are still alive and healthy today, just a bit slower and very much more tired than before. But, that tattoo is still up in the air until I can fork-up $5,000 or more for it, just hoping that one day I will be wearing something about him for all to see! 

The Beatitudes as told by Jesus Christ at the Sermon on the Mount. Matthew Chapter 5

Prisoners of Epilepsy & Depression

As the television shows Pope Francis in New York for the first time ever at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and then the 9/11 Memorial and museum Thursday and Friday, his Holiness said his prayer and gave his service in Spanish, something I would have liked to attend. Pope Francis is 78 year old man, full of smiles, and very much liked.

Source - Beacon Energy News

Michelle and I wish to also grow old and be together if that’s even possible for an epileptic as her grandparents did and mine as well. Even she has said to me that sometimes enough is enough and I understand where she’s coming from. There is no one I’ll ever meet as strong and trustworthy, I’ll never love anyone the way I love her, but even she sometimes feels nervous driving around with me because I sometimes have a seizure in our car and she has taken a lashing by me which I am not proud of. It has happened while driving recently by me swinging my arms around smacking her in the face with my left hand on her right side with my steel watch and all I can say is “what’s the matter honey” because an epileptic does not remember what he or she has done, the world around them ceases to exist until it’s over. Michelle does not blame me for my actions during a seizure because they are “not my fault” she says, and she’s right, but still they happen.

On the 29th of September, Tuesday night on the way home from work she told me that I had almost broke her middle finger on her right hand because she was trying to keep my feet off of the dashboard so I guess something happened. On the next Tuesday, the 5th of October while in the bathroom, an episode happened. I wear a medical bracelet on my right wrist which has the information of my medications on it from my beautiful Aunt Lisa that I’ve worn for 15 years and still today. That day I fell back, almost broke the toilet, my head on the right smacked the bar on the wall which serves no purpose, but Michelle secured it for me with child safety padding, keeping my head safe - this time. The wall on the other hand has a small chipped tile piece from my right arm swinging up. I am fine, the tile was more hurt than me.       

But there is something an epileptic can see all day long whenever and wherever it may happen and this is the easiest way to explain it for both the young and older readers. There is a vision we can see and control to fight our own battle and stop the seizure from attacking, but not all of them - I wish. This I call a glitch. This glitch can be seen all day and it looks and feels like your brain is crashing and rebooting itself like a broken, run down computer or an old television screen cracked with colored lines in square shapes and sizes or a cracked digital watch or cellphone. If you can imagine my explanation of this Memory Function you may be able to stop some of these seizures by holding them off, waiting for it to end and then get back to a more normal life style.

There is a scream that an epileptic can understand that can’t be controlled because this scream is an awkward shape of your face and causes you the loss of your function to speak and to breathe through your mouth by not being able to open it – it locks shut. This is not a common event, not as common as falls or the glitch that occurs all day which is a good thing because it is rather loud and who doesn’t want the power to speak or breathe. Michelle knows because she can see my face or that I’m am not talking anymore and I am trying to fight it off. I usually win if it’s possible and it’s what Michelle says as well. I just put a finger up in the air as to say, hold on, give me a second and then I’m back. My wife knows the best way to deal with my issues, my parents, not as much.  

I myself go through 75 to 100 seizures a day, no exaggeration unfortunately and I have had this many problems ever since I can remember, but while I was in school and work I was able to Control most of them. This is no trick, just a way of controlling what happens besides the falls - possibly I will find a way in the future.

Since most of my seizures come from a light source glaring off of a book, a computer, street lights or the sun, I can avoid these problems mostly since they occur on my right side high on the upper corner. I throw my right hand up smacking them away, this can be done by telling your dysfunctional brain “This is my body, my life your trying to destroy, go away!”

My tip to Epileptics and a way to survive - Always know where you are, that you are okay and in a safe area or if not lean against a wall so that you know nobody else can get hurt by you and keep yourself in control of your own functions. It’s not a cure, nothing is sadly, but if you are one like me with all of these problems give it a shot, it may work for you. Michelle usually asks me what’s going on, she can see when I’m having an episode and when it’s over I tell her, “sorry, I was trying to keep it under control”.  It’s better than beating yourself down with Depression -  I know.

Since 2011 right after my marriage I have had my freedom taken from me, staying in this room, on this chair, deprived of the outside world. This has become my only way to reach out to others. I never see friends, sometimes family visits but not for me, just on occasion. I am seated on or chair with arms with a world that I find frightened of me. I find myself to be a Prisoner of Epilepsy. I look out the window behind me like a prisoner, but at least if I was a prisoner I would have more freedom along with a reason for being there. I have no rhyme or reason, just Epilepsy. Yesterday I texted Michelle that I’m 35yrs old and have been living on a couch for four years and the more I think about it, these years of my life taken from me more angry and disturbed I get and feel and I don’t know if I could live another year like this. So on that matter, if that’s not Depression enough for you then what is?  My dog has more freedom, I cannot go on living a life like this, I will not end up in a wheelchair, if I ever saw that wheelchair I would smash it against the wall, it’s not necessary and hopefully won’t be, at least not anytime soon.

I am a Fighter, always have been and never would I do anything stupid to myself on my own account. My family knows that, my old friends do too, but none of them as far as I know or was told are living the way I am. I have a cousin that was born epileptic 3 years ago, in a family from Seaford and, two boys, - twins, from Connecticut who have seizures and Autism as well at 5 years old - All Fighters like myself. I learned from my grandparents that I had epileptic family members in Italy years ago and probably to this day. Epilepsy and Autism are not genetic as some may think them to be.

I intend to help my cousins, as well as many other families suffering - Not to end up as Prisoners of Epilepsy and suffering from Depression!