…So Had I Pulled Out My Phone To Call For “Help,” Like ALFRED OLANGO, Myself Or My Son Would Have Been Killed

extremely weak and sleepy.

Fast forward and a hospital visit later I learned something new.

I learned that “exorcism”-like episode he had (that I still had yet to witness), was diagnosed as that same epileptic condition merely having come back to roost.

My precious, now pre-tween boy had what doctors called a grand-mal seizure adjoining his new growth spurt.

The only thing I knew about this thing at this time was that afterwards, he slept for about 13-16 hours straight. It was like his brain was exhausted.

‘Phenobarbital’ was the medication of choice that I later found out was not going to control his seizures upon the second growth spurt that I knew he had coming—less, my never imagining this next seizure would happen while I was the driver and he was riding shot gun-like we always do.

Fast forward.

That day came.

One day we were out on one of our many excursions and that “exorcism” happened.

I was driving while we were singing. All of a sudden, his version of the song went mute. I looked over to my right to him looking as if he was positioning and preparing himself for something that I had never seen before: That body-jerking routine that resembled that “exorcism” the school bus driver was talking about was in my vehicle this time.

Having pulled over and with my forehead up in his face, before I could pierce in to ask him what it was he was feeling-what was going on with him, I got my answer.

He began jerking around uncontrollably like a rag doll.

Young, scared (and even with my cell phone in the car), I pulled over near an alley street and just began screaming.

I repeatedly scream to the top of my lungs: “Oh God, somebody help me!” I panicked so badly that I didn’t even think to grab my phone out of my purse to call for ‘help.’

My instinct was to grab my child and hold him tightly to control his body while I cried and screamed. That was all I could do. I wanted his body to stop jerking so violently. I wanted to stop it so much so that whatever it was he was feeling, I wanted it to just be handed over to me. I felt I could handle whatever this was better than my baby in my arms.

Like a “Justice”-like yell at seeing her boyfriend get shot (1:03-1:23), I screamed for help.

Out from around the corner, a