Purple Caffe Fife

I Wear Purple for My Boys

I wear it for every seizure. Every drop attack. Every muscle spasm, every pill and syringe full of medication, every side effect, every tear shed, every cry of pain, every soiled pair of trousers, every bitten tongue, every EEG, MRI and every ambulance trip.

I Wear Purple for the nurses.

I wear it for every history written, every observation taken, every medicine given, every hand they have held, every word of encouragement given, every worry listened to and every shoulder they have allowed someone to cry on.

I Wear Purple for the Doctors.

I wear it for every test carried out, for every drug calculation, for every prescription written, every bit of new research, for every consultation and every diagnosis given. For every battle won and for those that are lost.

 I Wear Purple for the warriors.

I wear it for every charity, solicitor, social worker and volunteer who fights tirelessly to ensure that people with epilepsy are not discriminated against. For every right, big or small, that has been denied. For everyone educated on the condition and for those too ignorant to realise how much more difficult they make your life.

 I Wear Purple for the parents.

I wear it for every breath held as they watch their child fitting, for every time they have felt completely helpless, for every medication dose they have measured out, for every rescue Buccal inserted. For every appointment attended, every dash to A&E, every meeting at school, every sleepless night and every tear shed.

I Wear Purple for the battles lost.

For every parent, aunt, uncle, grandparent and sibling who has heard the words “I’m sorry for your loss.” For the indescribable pain when the battle is lost. For every time they have tried to pick up the pieces. For every flower on every grave. For every angel that has purple wings. I wear purple for them.