When you live with epilepsy, there aren’t a whole lot of constants. Every day comes with variables – will I have a seizure today? Where will I be? Will I be able to salvage the rest of the day, or will I be down for the count – canceling time with friends, calling in sick to work – generally letting people down.
Georgie is my constant. This story will give you an idea…
I used to work at a barn, fetching horses, cleaning stalls, teaching kids. When I’d fetch horses, I’d clip Georgie to a fence where she wouldn't be at risk of getting kicked from a horse in the pasture.
And this was no different. However, this time when returned after cathing the horse there was no Georgie! All that was left was half of the leash still clipped to the fence. A loose dog, in a barn full of 80 horses, next to a highway- I had just lost Georgie for good. I didn't just loose a dog though, I lost my independence, my comfort, my sidekick. I just lost the one thing that allowed me to live my life.
While my life passed by me with only a dangling leash in sight, I got closer to the gate and in less than blink of an eye, that leash turned into apricot-colored curls and slobbery tongue followed by a wagging tail.
Georgie had somehow broken a nylon leash, an unbreakable leash in half, because I had clipped her to a part of the fence where she was unable to see me. She didn’t know where I was and if I was okay.
Interview with Victoria Stilwell (15:25-28:20)