From our partner Irene Tarragó
WHAT TITLE SHOULD I CHOOSE TODAY?
Back from vacation, I face the new term lacking energy, though certainly not enthusiasm. I know things will become increasingly difficult for me, as the side effects of my epilepsy medication (Depakine) are now compounded by those of Letrozole, a hormonal treatment for cancer.
I have a long to-do list following this break, but I wanted this article about epilepsy to be the first task I tackled. It is a commitment I made years ago, and I do not want to break my word: one article a month sharing my impressions, struggles, hopes, and doubts, in short, my day-to-day life with epilepsy.
I have written so many articles, and so many themes intertwine within each of them, that I decided to give today’s piece this particular title. After all, most of the time, I don’t stick to just one topic. When discussing life—something that isn’t centered on a single issue but encompasses matters of all kinds—I find myself recounting events, sharing stories, and expressing how I feel about what has happened, often jumping from one subject to another. Because that is what life is: diversity, routine, surprises…
Current events also affect me deeply, and if I want to talk about everything—as any citizen might—I have to share my opinion. I believe we cannot simply look the other way.
Right now, the situation in Ceuta is weighing heavily on the minds of all Spaniards. Without getting into who is behind it all, I would like to say that, from my perspective, it has been handled terribly. The various administrative bodies failed to join forces and work in a coordinated manner, resulting in a horrific situation for both the residents of Ceuta and the people who entered Spain illegally. Our politicians need to step up to solve this massive problem; they must stop blaming one another and instead join forces to find solutions. And the world around us is in chaos. Wars are breaking out everywhere. Just today, I found myself wondering what kind of world my two granddaughters will live in. To be honest, it scares me.
Wars are breaking out everywhere. Just today, I found myself wondering what kind of world my two granddaughters will live in. To be honest, it scares me.
I belong to a privileged generation. My parents had to work hard because they lived through a war that forced them to struggle to support the family with dignity. I am the youngest of three siblings, though there is a thirteen-year age gap between me and my eldest brother. Of the three of us, I am the only one with a university education. It is true that neither of the others expressed a desire to pursue higher education, but thanks to my parents’ efforts, I was able to do what I wanted.
I was also fortunate enough to marry an affectionate, hardworking, and understanding man who loved me—epilepsy and all. His parents had lived through the war and suffered greatly, too. They had no fewer than nine children, yet through immense effort, they ensured that every one of them had the chance to pursue a university education. True to his Aragonese roots, he was very stubborn—a trait that drove him to work incredibly hard. Despite facing many obstacles and setbacks along the way, he finally achieved his goal after seventeen years: a transfer to Madrid to further his professional career. The sacrifices continued there, involving frequent trips to Latin America and even a relocation to Argentina with the entire family.
What this all goes to show is that our parents were true heroes and heroines. Thanks to their efforts, we had opportunities—whether or not we chose to seize them. Our children are already facing difficulties—regarding housing, wages, and so on—but what kind of world will our grandchildren inherit? What opportunities will be available to them? Is there any way we can prepare ourselves now so that they, in turn, are prepared?
These are the uncertainties facing everyone—whether or not they have epilepsy. After all, we feel, worry, suffer, laugh, and dream just like any other human being.
Irene Tarragó Pascau
