As if being a pre-teen isn’t hard enough, hearing the words, “I am diagnosing you with epilepsy” at 12 turned my world upside down. I went from all-nighter sleepovers and the freedom to navigate my neighborhood and life with my friends as I pleased, to adult supervision and leaving parties early. No longer was I just your average pre-teen—I had a new badge I never asked for: epilepsy.
I was adopted as a baby from Bogotá, Colombia, at 7 weeks old. I never knew my birth family, and so family medical history was a no-go. When you are a person who, from birth, has had to swallow hard pills—both literally after my diagnosis and figuratively—you find resilience because there is no other option. My second seizure, which was the catalyst for my diagnosis, happened when I was 12, while we were in Florida for my grandpa’s memorial service. I awoke in the middle of the night and went right into a tonic-clonic seizure. I woke up in the ER, my arm burning, overwhelmed with confusion and trying to understand what was happening. I was receiving Dilantin via IV, and it was so painful that I could barely stand it. My arm was bruised for weeks, and the vein was so damaged that it re-routed itself. In a strange way, that vein re- routing spoke volumes to me about resilience and finding a way to continue, even when it feels like epilepsy is taking over your life.
As the years went on, I had countless breakthrough seizures. I got my license later than my friends, had to navigate epilepsy in the workplace, and don’t even get me started on managing my comorbidities. The rollercoaster moments never stop. BUT, just like my vein, no matter what happens, I find a way around it and keep going. Keep the blood flowing. Since 2019, I’ve found the courage to own epilepsy and not let it own me. I share my epilepsy story with both small and large audiences because I never want anyone in the epilepsy community to feel alone. I educate, advocate, and crush stigmas to ensure I do my part in creating a safer world for anyone living with epilepsy.
For me, what does “Keep Dancing” mean? It means to keep moving, never give up, no matter how rough things get with epilepsy. I think of my vein—even though it was damaged, it found a way around the obstacle to keep the blood flowing. Own your story and journey, and NEVER feel weak for asking for help from loved ones, friends, and amazing organizations like the Epilepsy Foundation of America. 1 in 26 of us live with epilepsy. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Keep going, keep fighting, and keep being fabulously you. Keep Dancing!
Connect with me:
Website: https://linktr.ee/JESSVIC_
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/jessicalchappell
Instagram: @jessvic__
Author bio:
Jess Chappell, born in Bogota, Colombia and adopted as a newborn, was diagnosed with epilepsy at 12. Between being a bonus mom to two teens and working as a business analyst at Walgreens headquarters, she has been a passionate epilepsy advocate in and outside of work.
Since 2019, Jessica has organized five Walgreens Epilepsy Awareness Month events, inspired over 150+ employees to get Seizure First Aid Certified, and provided a platform for people of all different walks of life to raise their voices and share their epilepsy journey. Despite challenges with her own journey, she's determined to debunk epilepsy stigmas, spread awareness, and promote seizure first aid. Jess Chappell's journey is not just one of personal triumph over adversity, but also a testament to her commitment to creating a more informed and supportive community for those affected by epilepsy.
