Getting punched in the face
Down nine times, up ten
👋 Hello Friends, as some of you may already know, this week has been a particularly trying one for the Campion family - as I'll explain below - but it's also been a reminder of just how important it is to have supportive friends (and to be a supportive friend), especially when things get tough. I appreciate you and I hope to keep earning this valuable real estate in your inbox every other week. - GC
Getting punched in the face
This week, my family got punched in the face. We were on a long-awaited beach vacation with friends in Florida when we had what may prove to be a life-changing event.
After a day at the beach, I was sitting outside in the afternoon about to write this very newsletter when my almost 11-year-old son's friend raced around the house hysterically crying "Something's wrong with Charlie! I think Charlie's dying!"
I ran downstairs to find my son Charlie slumped against a dresser where he had landed after falling out of a bed. His eyes were open with a terrified look in them, but he could not speak. Terrified myself, I picked him up off the floor, held him in my arms and called 911.
The next few minutes are a blur but my wife arrived home, and while still on the line with 911, we Facetimed her father, a pediatrician, to try to find out what was happening and how we could help him.
Paramedics arrived shortly thereafter and about that time Charlie started to be able to speak again... just answering basic questions like "What is your name? And who are these people with you?"
After his friend described to us the convulsions he saw before Charlie fell off the bed, it became clear that Charlie had suffered a seizure. He never had one before and this was the first one I had ever witnessed (or at least witnessed the aftermath of).
To say it was scary would be a massive understatement. I've never felt so terrified and helpless in almost 11 years as a parent.
Charlie was taken to the hospital via ambulance and in the ER had all kinds of tests - a CAT scan, an EKG, blood tests, etc. Everything came back normal.
We were discharged a few hours later with instructions to "watch him" and to be very careful in the water and other activities where having another seizure could be dangerous.
Apparently, the protocol is that "anyone can have just one" seizure. But once you have multiple, you've likely got something more serious going on.
That night, we watched Charlie closely but neither my wife nor I really slept. My mind immediately raced to worst case scenarios and how life might look much different for Charlie going forward than we might have hoped and dreamed for him. My wife, took it more in stride and (at least tried) to assume that this was a one-time, freak thing.
I was up early the next morning and went for a walk. The self-improvement and side hustle podcasts and audiobooks I had tee'd up for my vacation content diet immediately took a backseat to the multiple seizure and epilepsy-related podcasts I added to my queue almost immediately following the event. Apparently my way of coping is to learn everything I can and to try to make sense of what is happening.
That next day, Charlie felt fine. We went to the beach and even let him swim in the water but I felt immensely uncomfortable and tried to stay just a few feet away from him in case anything else happened.
That night, after dinner and a trip to the ice cream shop, we let Charlie sleep in a room with his friend again - who by this point had been heavily instructed on doing exactly what he did the first time - getting an adult - if Charlie had another seizure.
Sadly, he did. Just after going to bed, his friend barreled up the stairs again screaming "It's happening to Charlie again! He needs help!"
We rushed downstairs and by the time we got there the seizure was done, likely lasting just 30 seconds to a minute. This time, he was able to speak but he was seriously scared.
My wife and I took him into our bed with us and watched him carefully all night. Another night of little-to-no sleep. And this time, a night with much more palpable sadness. Reality rushed in. This probably was not a freak thing. Charlie's life might look a lot different than we had thought just 48 hours earlier.
We were about a 9-hour drive from home and only two days into a planned week-long vacation but my mind was made up as soon as that second seizure occurred. We were leaving first thing the next morning. We needed to get home. We needed to get Charlie help. To figure out what was happening.
The next day, we made the drive. My wife called everyone she knew who either had kids with epilepsy or expertise in neurology. And between her calls and my podcasts, we formally started our information-gathering phase.
We got in to see the pediatrician first thing the next morning, and unsurprisingly, were told that we need to see a neurologist ASAP. So that's pretty much where we find ourselves at the moment... waiting for more information and waiting to see a neurologist - hopefully in the next day or two. In the meantime, until we really understand what's happening and come up with some kind of a treatment plan, we are just trying to keep Charlie safe.
It's been an emotional week. And I'm not really sure what conclusions I can draw from these events yet as I'm still processing them. But here are a few thoughts that have been crystalizing in my head:
Feel your feelings - My friend, Jesse Pujji, talked to me about this idea in our recent podcast conversation. In a situation like this, especially as a parent, I think there is a tendency to bottle up emotions so you can "be strong for your family." This is pretty much exactly how I've played it to be honest - holding back tears in front of my son several times over the last 48 hours. But the reality is that something sad and potentially life-changing has just occurred. It's natural to cry. I have tears as I type this sentence. But that's okay. For me, writing things down like this is a way that I can feel my feelings and to let out what needs to get out.
My son is an optimist by nature and can usually see the positive side of things even when he fails in sports or in the classroom. What makes me most sad at this very moment is thinking of him coming to the realization that he might not be able to do things that his peers can.
He doesn't realize yet that sleep-away summer camp with his friends might not be in the cards. Or that things like swimming or riding bikes or (eventually) driving cars may look different for him. Or that his true love, playing baseball, may be affected as well. I'm sad about all of that.
I'm also sad about experiences he may miss that I had. But I'm most sad about that moment when he comes to the realization that he may have limits.
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger - I hope I am completely blowing everything out of proportion in this newsletter and that he goes on to live the rest of his life without another seizure. That would make me so happy.
But if that's not the case, it's okay. I already know what will happen. If, when we see a neurologist later this week, he is diagnosed with epilepsy, I know that it may prove to be the most character-building development of his life.
It's early to say this for many reasons, but I already know that any adversity that Charlie faces as a result of this will make him 10 times stronger.
Over the last 48 hours, I had the distinct feeling that this was an inflection point in Charlie's life and in the collective life of our family. That there is the "before seizures" period and the "after seizures" period.
Again, I hope I'm blowing this way out of proportion, but if it does prove to be a major inflection point, I can already see glimmers of light at the end of the tunnel.
Despite the challenges and sadness and disappointment that likely lie ahead for Charlie and our family, I already know that this event will turn Charlie into Charlie.
He's not even 11-years-old yet. We don't even REALLY know who he is yet. My feeling today is that this development just might be a massively formative one for him. In fact, dealing with this challenge may just give him unbelievable strength. And that strength will be something that propels him to success in every part of his life well into adulthood. That is a comforting thought at a time when fear, uncertainty and sadness have quickly become prevalent emotions.
Nothing is scarier than something bad happening to your child. But nothing is more clarifying as well. If the last 48 hours have taught me anything, it’s that the health and well-being of my family is really the only thing that matters.
Work, money, all the different stressors in my life… they all hold their place somewhere on my priority list. But nothing comes even remotely close to making sure my family is okay. This is certainly not the vacation I was expecting. But this reminder of my true priorities is worth way more than whatever we paid for that beach house.
I sit here today and can already see Charlie as an incredible dad and husband someday. And I see my job today as making damn sure he's gets there.
He will. And it's going to be awesome. I can't wait.
I appreciate you reading all the way to this point. I'm not sure I've dropped much "intentional wisdom" on you this week but honestly the writing of this issue of the newsletter has been therapeutic for me. And knowing that there are people like you reading this and truly caring about me and my family is really comforting to me and helps to provide me the strength that I need to help my family deal with this challenge.
If you ever heard me speak to one of my youth sports teams you'd almost certainly hear me say "We know bad things are going to happen. What we don't yet know is how we're going to react." Well, it's time for me to eat my own cooking and to make sure that my family and I react to this bad thing the right way.
That's it for this week. I appreciate you reading!
Content Diet
Good news. I did manage to sneak in some excellent content before (and even a little bit after) the events described above. Here’s a few things I think are worthy of your attention.
A Twitter thread on taking the scary leap into entrepreneurship from Dave Kline. This thread really impacted me. Dave is a friend who I’ve been lucky enough to meet via Twitter and he joined me on my podcast as well. Give this a read if you’re looking for a little kick-in-the-ass inspiration.
100M offers by Alex Hormozi - In full transparency, I’m only about halfway through the audiobook (due to the events above) by holy sh$t, this is a mind-blowing blue print for anyone who wants to launch a business. Hormozi tells his own ‘rags to riches’ story and then explains in a very detailed and methodical way how to actually make money from the ventures you launch. Homerun recommendation from Dave & Marsden Kline.
All It Takes is a Goal podcast - I already knew I liked Jon Acuff from following him on Twitter and Youtube. Then I listened to his podcast and while he doesn’t yet realize it, we’re kind of best buds now. Jon - if you read this by chance, I’m looking forward to having you on the Intentional Wisdom podcast. Don’t worry, I’ll explain all the details later. Anyhow, check out episodes #57 and #74 for your inspiration/motivation/practical advice starter pack. Bonus: Listening to anything with Jon is an instant mood-enhancer.
Alright, my 1000 friends. I threw a lot at you this week. Thanks again for sticking with me. I’ll be back in two weeks!
— Greg
Such an open honest accounting of this experience. Charlie is blessed to have you two as parents. He will always know how much he’s loved and cared about.
My first thought was "this is coming on an odd day".
So sorry to hear about Charlie and the seizure.
I can imagine it must be a scary time.
I have a book to suggest that I literally just read.
It's a memoir of sorts by Mary Laura Philpott titled Bomb shelter.
She also chronicles how her teenage son was diagnosed with epilepsy amongst other life stories.
I'm hoping reading another parents honest experience might help you feel less anxious.