My Last Dance

I’ll always remember the last dance I had with my wife at a time when many would have identified us as “newlyweds.” It’s haunting because of a classic Keppra mood swing that neither of us expected from me, and ever since it has kept my wife from wanting to dance with me.

I’d had epilepsy my entire life. My complex seizures usually struck at home, and in the evenings, I had a chance to impress people with my outgoingness and charisma before my secret was unveiled to them. Subsequently, their breaths weren’t taken away the first time I’d appear to be drunk or unresponsive to them.

Finding love in an unlikely place

It was difficult for me to get a girlfriend. The older I got, the size of the market dwindled for me. 

My fortune didn’t change until I was 38 and taught in China. That’s when a chemist who had never seen an epileptic seizure became interested in me.

In the past, it was not unusual for families in certain regions to make difficult decisions regarding children with epilepsy, sometimes leading to unfortunate outcomes. This contributed to a lower level of public awareness about epilepsy, causing greater fear and misunderstanding around seizures compared to other places.

When I answered my would-be wife’s inquiry about the pills she saw me taking, she had no idea what epilepsy was. I’d fallen in love with her when we met, but even deeper when she was the first woman who didn’t reject me right away and, then took the initiative to learn more about it online.

Navigating new medication challenges

Once married, we settled in Atlanta because she’d been invited to the MBA program at a local university. She’d never driven a car before because China’s mass transit had been superb for all her needs, and we were both taken aback at how hampered my pursuits of employment in TV production were by my driving restrictions.

She became the primary breadwinner because of an IT job she took while studying. When she finally graduated several years later, friends asked her what she’d do with all her extra time. Most of our dating and early marriage was spent at the movies, so ballroom dance classes seemed nice.

It had been years since I’d tried such a thing, long before I’d ever started Keppra, just before meeting her. It was embarrassing how clumsier it made me compared to before. 

I hadn’t discussed the side effects of the medication in advance with my neurologist, which might have helped me prepare myself so that we’d have much more fun. I didn’t know about it causing things like mood changes, anger, confusion, or doubt.

Frustration, silence, and a breakdown

My wife was quite nimble when dancing, but I put as much concentration into these dance lessons as a surgeon puts into an operation. My aggravation grew each week as our classmates were laughing in tender embraces.

My driving had ended a decade earlier, so she was our chauffeur. Realizing that I was the only husband being driven off the school’s parking lot made me sulk. It was nearly a 30-minute drive home, and usually, I wouldn’t speak. 

Keppra had changed me from the man she’d married, and she considered my behavior upset with her for some reason. She was frustrated and agonized that I didn’t give her a legitimate reason for being upset with her.

Our dancing never seemed to improve, provoking me to blow up on the way home from the last night of the 2-month long class. On an expressway with 65-mph traffic, she couldn’t look at me squarely, and I told her that I was miserable. 

She fired back with the point that this class had been my suggestion. I rebutted that I was “sick” of her driving me, to which she asked how the heck I had expected we’d do a thing like this class if she didn’t.

This rampage continued a couple more rounds until I shut up. When we returned to our apartment, I slammed the car door hard enough that it was amazing the window didn’t break. No one talked for the rest of the evening, and in the morning, farewell exchanges were not affectionate.

Learning to manage medication and emotions

Weeks later, I learned that I was likely susceptible to the worst of the side effects of my medication. That’s what it took for me to realize I always needed to question my neurologist about the characteristics of any medication rather than simply take whatever prescription I’d be handed to a pharmacist to fill. I also realized that I needed to study some anger-management techniques rather than risk alienating my one true love.

A few years later, I switched from Keppra to its generic Levetiracetam. But I’ve reminded myself that I have to be grateful when Yan is able to get me out of the house rather than to pout. 

In situations when I feel anger brewing, I patiently excuse myself and take a 30-40-minute walk in the neighborhood to cool down rather than impulsively say something regrettable that might be destructive to our marriage.

One lasting regret

We celebrated our 20th anniversary last week, and I love her more every day. I’ve become seizure-free and able to drive for the first time in 33 years. 

But because of my childish and impetuous behavior at the dance class, she hasn’t danced with me since, whether for a night out, a family wedding, or on cruises. I truly regret how my uneducated and thoughtless behavior took the fun out of something my wife was hoping to enjoy, and it denied us the fun we might possibly have enjoyed throughout our marriage.

Let’s hope I don’t have to wait until our daughter’s wedding reception in 10-20 years to dance again with her.