Elvis and the Underdogs Read Online Free

out his hand again, but my mom slapped it away.
    â€œBut . . .,” Dr. Helen continued.
    We tensed up again. And then Dr. Helen told us she was going to need to run a series of brain tests to see if she could understand what exactly had happened to me at school. The first test was a big one. They were going to do an EEG of my brain.
    â€œWhile it’s still in my head, right?”
    Everyone laughed when I asked the question, but I figured it didn’t hurt to be sure.
    Dr. Helen explained it was a test where they attach wires to your head and get a printout of your brain waves like in a lie detector.
    â€œOh, it’s kinda Frankenstein-y?”
    Dr. Helen laughed this time. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but sure, I guess it is.”

2

    The way I see it, my life is now divided into two sections. Before the brain tests, which is everything you just read about, and after the brain tests, which is what I’m going to tell you about now.
    My EEG was totally normal. My PET scan (which checked out my brain cells) was totally normal, and I guess it’s always third time’s the charm, because it was my MRI that came back almost perfect, but not quite. Dr. Helen showed my parents and me the digital images of my brain that the MRI had captured. She said that the MRI was the most detailed of all the tests.
    â€œWhich one was the MRI again? The one where you had to shave my head, the one with all the colors, or the one where I went into the giant bread machine?”
    â€œBread machine.” Anyway, on that scan Dr. Helen said she’d found a tiny spot, which could be a lesion or could be nothing at all.
    At the mention of the word “lesion,” my mom starting breathing a little heavy, but Dr. Helen nipped her worries right in the bud. “I’m telling you right now that all those terrible things you’re thinking are not true. So don’t go there.” My mom nodded. She completely believed in Dr. Helen, and so did I. She said for now, there was no way to tell if it was that tiny little spot that caused my episode, but it might have. She said seizures were far more common than we realize, and that most children who have seizures in their youth outgrow them as they get older.
    â€œSo I’m going to have another one?”
    Dr. Helen shook her head. “Benji, we don’t know that for sure. But for now, since the tests were inconclusive, we have to label it as idiopathic epilepsy.”
    â€œWhat’s idiotic epilepsy?”
    â€œIt’s idiopathic epilepsy, which means epilepsy of an unknown origin.”
    â€œBut I faint all the time. Why is this any different?”
    â€œBenji, hush, let Dr. Helen talk. So are you saying Benji has epilepsy? That sounds serious. Is this why he faints a lot?”
    â€œNo, I’m not saying that at all. But what happened at school wasn’t a fainting spell. Benji had a major seizure, and that’s much more serious. Now, what I’m most concerned about in Benji’s case is that during his seizure, he hit his head on the floor hard enough to get a mild concussion.”
    â€œWell,” I joked, “if it happens again, I’ll get my tenth punch in my hospital punch card. And I’ll get a prize!”
    â€œBenji, you were very lucky to be at school when it happened, so you were able to get immediate attention. But what if it happens again and you aren’t at school, or at home with your mom? What if it happens when you’re crossing the street, or at the mall, or swimming, or at home alone?”
    â€œWell, if it happened somewhere else, I guess I’d fall down. But if I was swimming, I’d . . .” Then I stopped talking. I understood what she was trying to tell us. My mom got her point too, because she started doing that short, quick breathing she does when she starts getting upset, and she also pulled me into her arms and squeezed me,