‘Good job you didn’t keep working as a lawyer then.’
I stay silent for a moment. That was a little near the bone. I enjoyed working in law. I had worked so hard for my legal career. I earned my way with relentless graft and hours of burning the midnight oil. I can still visualise all the pages of legal clauses, the Latin names and ream upon ream of legal jargon and provisos. At times my room-mate would struggle to find me behind the mountainous piles of books I would be lost behind. But I guess Jess is right: in the end, I wasn’t ever really suited to it. Much as I blame the epilepsy.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,’ she says as an afterthought.
‘It’s okay.’ Although it’s not really, but there’s no point in trying to explain it to Jess. I attempted it a couple of times, soon after my diagnosis, thinking she would understand, as she so often had with other things in the past, but she really didn’t get it. So I have learned to smooth it over. Make it all appear to go away. It’s so much easier for everyone else that way, especially since the meds have been keeping the seizures under control. ‘I love what I do,’ I continue, ‘and there’s no going back now. Kids are far less demanding than divorcing couples anyway.’
‘True.’ Jess giggles. ‘And at least you can put them on the sun on the reward chart, if they’re good, or on the naughty step if they’re bad.’
‘There is no naughty step any more,’ I retort, stifling a yawn.
‘How’re the new meds?’ she asks.
‘Better.’ Thank goodness they are, as well. ‘That hideous feeling of exhaustion has diminished a little. The last ones were awful. I felt drugged all day. As long as I take these the same time every evening I’m a tiny bit better. The mornings are still hard as I feel most tired then, but the exhaustion sometimes wears off during the day. Other times it doesn’t. It kind of feels as though you’ve been out on the razzle every night and you have to work through it all morning until by about lunchtime, things feel a little better. Other times I stumble or lean on the wall because I feel sort of off balance, but it only happens occasionally.’
‘It’s a hard price to pay to avoid having a seizure,’ Jess says.
‘It is, but there isn’t any choice is there? The thought of collapsing in front of the entire class is not a good one. They’d be terrified.’
‘Not a pretty sight, but the staff would manage. I mean it must happen.’
‘It just can’t happen. I’d have to leave my job. I’d feel as though I had traumatised the kids; they would be afraid for me to teach them.’
‘It really can’t be that bad. I know it’s a bit embarrassing but …’
‘One of my colleagues at Price Maberton told me I looked like I was doing the running man, the last time I had a seizure, let alone the fact he was totally freaked out because I had been eating a biscuit at the time and he was worried I would choke. It made me almost feel ashamed of even having to talk about it – as though I was an annoyance to everyone else. Also, I don’t want to be “Sophia with the epilepsy”. I want people to see beyond that.’
‘Fair enough. I think you’re best on the meds then.’
‘Yes and at least they work at the moment. Viv’s niece at school still has them occasionally in spite of the meds.’
‘What a nightmare that must be. I suppose you have to be grateful for small mercies.’ Jess sighs. Then she brightens a little. ‘Anyway, it’s all the more reason why you need someone nice to take care of you. How did you get on with Hinge?’
How annoying. I thought she’d forgotten about it. ‘I’ve been really busy,’ I mutter.
‘Not that busy,’ she says in a stern tone. ‘You just don’t want to do it.’ I’m silent for a moment, hoping she’s got the hint. ‘Okay, I’ll have to think of something else,’ she declares breezily.
We chat for a few more minutes before I get off the phone. I need to make sure everything’s washed ready for tomorrow, as my best shirt has a stain on it. I’m pondering the idea of cooking up some mince and making a cottage pie, which would at least