After a few quiet moments, the air in the room started to feel lighter. Rebecca's mother sat across from me, her eyes full of calm understanding. She wasn't judging or panicking — just being present.
She took a deep breath and said gently,
> "My son, I know you can't help but worry. You've been through a lot. But we can't let the past keep taking your peace."
I nodded, not saying much, but she could tell I was listening. She reached over and asked,
> "When is your next appointment at the hospital?"
Without a word, I reached for my date card from the small drawer beside the bed and handed it to her. It was something I always kept close — maybe as a reminder that I was still fighting.
She looked at the card, nodded, and said,
> "It's good you're going for a checkup on the 23rd this month."
Then she called out toward the main house, "Nhlanhla!"
His voice came from a distance, "Yes, Mama?"
"Come here, boy!" she said, and within seconds, Nhlanhla appeared by the door, his school uniform still neatly tucked in though it was after school.
"Escort your brother-in-law to the hospital on the 23rd, okay?" she said firmly.
He smiled, that wide, respectful grin of his, and nodded without hesitation.
> "Of course, Mama. Don't worry — I got him."
That moment touched me more than I could explain. It wasn't just the words — it was how naturally they treated me as family. No second thoughts, no hesitation, just care.
Rebecca looked at me from where she sat, still holding our little girl in her arms. Her eyes said everything — you're not alone anymore.
For once, I felt peace rising above the noise in my head.
Maybe healing wasn't just about medicine or checkups.
Maybe it was about moments like this — being surrounded by people who truly wanted to see you stand again.
-
The night before my appointment, sleep didn't come easy. I lay there staring at the ceiling, the room quiet except for Rebecca's soft breathing beside me.
Tomorrow was the 23rd — my checkup day. But my mind wouldn't rest. I kept thinking about what happened that night. The seizure had come out of nowhere, in the dark, when I least expected it.
It was my first time experiencing one in my sleep. That thought alone sent chills through me. What went wrong? I asked myself again and again. Why at night?
My thoughts started racing — maybe I was too stressed, maybe I skipped something important, or maybe this was just how my body worked now. But deep down, I needed answers. Not just for myself, but for Rebecca and our little girl. I didn't want them waking up to that kind of fear again.
I turned slightly, careful not to wake her, and whispered under my breath,
> "My doctor… what's exactly causing these episodes? Why do they come like this?"
It wasn't just a question — it was a quiet cry from somewhere deep inside me. I wanted to understand what triggered them, what I could do to stop them, or at least what to do when they came while I was home alone.
The thought of being helpless again scared me more than I wanted to admit.
I closed my eyes, hoping for rest, but my mind kept replaying everything — the stillness of that night, the silence before the seizure hit, and the way I couldn't even call out to Rebecca.
Outside, a faint breeze brushed against the window. I took a slow breath and told myself,
> "Tomorrow, I'll ask. No matter what. I need to know."
It wasn't just another hospital visit anymore.
It felt like a turning point — a step closer to understanding what my body was trying to tell me.
The morning of the 23rd came with a light chill in the air. I woke up earlier than usual, already dressed before Rebecca even opened her eyes. She smiled sleepily when she saw me sitting at the edge of the bed.
"You're up early," she said softly, rubbing her eyes.
I nodded. "Didn't sleep much. Just wanted to get ready on time."
She walked over, helped me with my shoes, and gave me that reassuring look she always did — the one that said you got this.
A knock on the door followed. It was Nhlanhla, already waiting outside in his school tracksuit, holding a small backpack.
"You ready, grootman?" he asked with his usual grin.
That word grootman always made me smile — it carried respect, love, and a bond that words couldn't fully explain.
Rebecca packed a small lunch for us and whispered as I stood to leave, "Don't forget to ask everything you want to know. No holding back, okay?"
I nodded. "I won't."
---
We caught a taxi into town, the two of us sitting quietly as the city moved around us. Nhlanhla kept glancing at me, probably checking if I was okay. I gave him a small nod now and then — just to say I was fine.
When we reached the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air. I could already feel my heart beating faster. The waiting room was full, people coughing, nurses calling names, the usual chaos of a public clinic.
Finally, my turn came. The nurse called my name, and Nhlanhla gave me a thumbs up as I walked in.
The doctor greeted me with a warm smile — a middle-aged man who'd been following my case since my first visit.
"How have you been holding up?" he asked, flipping through my file.
I took a deep breath. "I've been okay, Doc… but I had another seizure."
He looked up immediately. "When was this?"
"Last week. At night," I said quietly. "It's the first time it's ever happened while I was asleep."
He nodded thoughtfully, making notes. "Nighttime seizures can happen, especially when your brain is under strain — from lack of sleep, stress, or fatigue. It doesn't always mean you're getting worse, but we'll keep a close eye."
I leaned forward. "Doc, what really causes them? I mean… what triggers them, and what should I do when they start?"
He looked me in the eye and said,
> "Your body has been through trauma. The head injury left a scar in your brain's electrical system. Seizures are your brain's way of misfiring. But with the right care — medication, rest, and avoiding stress — you can live a full life."
He explained what I should do during an episode: keep calm, lie on my side, and never try to fight it. He told me to let Rebecca and her family know what to do too.
I nodded, taking in every word. It wasn't easy hearing it all, but somehow it gave me peace — at least now I understood what I was facing.
Before leaving, I asked one last thing. "Will I ever be completely free from it?"
The doctor smiled faintly. "You've already come far. Keep your mind at peace, and your body will follow. Healing takes time — but it's happening."
---
Outside, Nhlanhla was waiting by the bench, sipping on a cool drink. When he saw me, he smiled.
"All good, grootman?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, sitting beside him. "Learned a lot today."
He nodded. "That's good. Mom's gonna be happy to hear that."
On our way back, the sky was clear and the wind soft. For the first time in a long while, I felt a little lighter.
Maybe I didn't have all the answers, but I was learning to live with what I had — and that was enough for today.