elfs | "Don't call 911."

At exactly 10:58 this morning, Omaha had a seizure at the Starbucks up the street. She caught it before it was going to happen, got right out of her chair and down to the ground, face-down, before it hit her.

Fortunately, RaenSpirit (the child formerly known as Kouryou-chan) and I were there. I pulled off my sweater. "Give me your head," I said as I folded it and slid it under her head.

It was a middling seizure. Full unconsciousness, but no thrashing, drooling, or dramatic breathing. A lot of people came up to us; RaenSpirit assured the people behind her that she was fine, and I had to make sure the fellow in the next chair over didn't call 911. The staff at the Starbucks, who have seen this before, were reassured when I gave them the OK hand signal. At least this time I didn't have to go through the checklist over the phone, nor pay ambulance fees just to be told to get two ibuprofen in her and help her sleep it off.

Omaha scratched at her nose, which is her usual sign that she's coming around. A minute later she sat up, and I escorted her to the car while RaenSpirit bused the table.

No drama, no lights or sirens. That's the way a serious but intermittent disability should be handled.