PNES fictional scene - for all you feeling misunderstood
Author's note: Hi, this is Jess.
I wrote this a night I couldn't sleep, imagining PNES from an external perspective; a supportive friend. I wanted to feel the love from someone's side and imagine how I look to them.. as I often feel like I fake it all for attention.
I'm lucky to have a mum that showed me how that a supportive and not judging hand can look, she's my hero and a person that gave me a lot of strength.
My English is not perfect, if you want to point out the mistakes and its corrections, do it. I will correct the post as more people can read it more smoothly and understand it flawlessly. ❤️
To PNES survivers, I love you all. This scene is a celebration of our renewed strength every morning.. to go through the motions of the day being present in our body and choosing courage every day and how that impacts and impresses the people all around us.
Marisa's pov; 1st June 2026, 18:59, Minnesota
I came back from work at 18:59 unaware of anything; just a little bit tired and a little bit hungry.. to a gruesome scene. I knew one day I'd catch Jenny in one of her 'episodes' but it still caught me off guard.
She was on the floor, both on her hands and knees, her head low, and was gasping for air. "Jenny!" I called out and rushed to her. In a few seconds I threw my purse in a corner and sat on the floor next to her and, almost as an instinct, tried to lift her head a bit. Her lips moved, no voice coming out but her lips formed letters as if to pronounce my name. I could read 'Marisa' if wanted. Her eyes were slightly shut, opening only on occasion. Her face was pale; except for her cheeks that were tinted red...but knowing her, they were the palest they've ever been.
"Jenny, tell me what you need" I told her reassuringly, placing my hand kindly on her back. She hiccuped but didn't manage to get any sound out. I realised I had to try another approach. "Jenny, it's fine. I'm here. I'll take care of you."
I felt her relaxing a bit under my touch but not enough to make a difference. "Come" I told her and redirected her towards a wall as she instructed me beforehand. I almost wanted to ask her why she was in the middle of the room but I know that when her mind starts to spiral, common sense just won't work in her favour. Grunting and with a lot of difficulty and my help, Jenny dragged her legs over the shiny silver tiles and repositioned herself in a safer way. She placed her back on the wall, sighed and closed her eyes again.
"Why were you on the floor?" I couldn't help but ask. "Trying to get your medicine?" Jenny opened her left eye only slightly and nodded imperceptibly. A thing, if I wasn't trained to read her face that well, I would have missed.
I sat next to her in silence. I don't how much time passed but it seemed an eternity. I watched her face distort in pain, her legs be in a very twisted position, looking almost like the ones of a mannequin, unalive. Without wanting to, I questioned the purpose of this disorder. Unknown... Often misunderstood. Almost like her whole life was living in a shadow.
I put my arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. At first she seemed scared but then leaned onto me. I guess she knew or trusted I didn't mean any harm. And honestly, she wouldn't have had any strength to fight back. Which is the whole point of the situation.
As soon as she felt a little better I asked her to list her symptoms. I grabbed her diary of symptoms she always had within reach from the coffee table and a pen from the desk and started to write down what she said. It seemed very hard for her to recall her memory; she squinted her eyes and frowned her forehead, her posture was slumped and her words were sluggish and her voice weak. If I didn't know about her PNES, I would have assumed she took some weed. I was surprised at how, even knowing her condition, I had to remind myself she wasn't in any danger physically, especially when she clutched her chest and seemed to breathe with difficulty.
I was ready to call 911 if anything got out of hand and I gave Jenny a side look to check on her status. She seemed nauseated and I caught a glimpse of the smart watch on her wrist lighting up: 118 bpm. Seemed about right considering what Jenny told me beforehand, when we were deciding to share the room. She explained to me in much detail about what was normal and what to look out for. And when to call for help if things went out of hand. Thanks to that I wasn't panicking.
Jenny's voice took me back to the present. "Marisa" She said out of breath in a whole breath. Her voice was heartbreakingly sad: "Am I an imposter?"
This question caught me off guard and, although I knew what she meant, I asked her: "What do you mean, love?" In the corner of her eyes tears started to form and, on Jenny's cheeks, they started to roll down. "Am I just doing it for attention...?" Her voice was just a breath and full of pain and despair.
"No, no" I said softly and sat in front of her. Her brown sweet eyes were full of tears now, pain was seeping out of them but they were blank and extremely tired at the same time. "It's not your fault. You're sick. Really."
"It's okay." I repeated when she didn't answer. She swallowed with difficulty. It took her some time to answer but I waited patiently for her to find her words, knowing it was extremely difficult for her. She seemed so fragile and I couldn't help but feel a stab in my stomach. She was the sweetest roommate and person I've ever met and I couldn't bear seeing her like this. It was unfair. I counted my blessings.. I was twenty-four, I felt twenty-four and could enjoy good health (besides some debilitating migraines once every two months). Jenny was twenty-six yet the two years gap seemed dozens of years to me when she was sick. I remember when Jenny told me she feels like a ninety year old lady when it happens: Her body gets wobbly and she clutches objects or walls to stand upright.
She had smiled faintly as she said it. She was accepting of her fate. But in her eyes I could see a glimpse.. a faint light of sadness. She didn't want to be sick. I didn't wish it for her, either.
I couldn't help but feel bad.
"I feel like I do ..... This for .... Att- attention." She said in a whole breath and gasped for air. "No.. no" I started to rebuke instantly and more tears streamed down her face. Unknowningly, I reached for her face and wiped them away. Empathy took control of my body and was directing it the best I could in her favour. "I am ... Cursed." She got out.
I looked at her teary, not knowing what to say. She saw my gaze and smiled faintly. "Th-thanks." She managed to say, voice shaking, eyes full of love and emotion before slopping behind against the wall and falling in a sleep like state. I know she thanked me for all... for being there, for support and for being a real friend. She told me often she was grateful I didn't leave her. At first I was confused, because it was common decency. 'Was she saying I look like a cold person?' I went to the lengths to think at first. But then, after knowing her for a bit, it was easy to recognise where the gratitudine was coming from... Understanding, support, not being alone: were all things she didn't have before.. for more than half her life.
She faced it all alone.
I don't know how she did it. Although it makes sense how now it's unbearable to face it on her own. She can't do it alone anymore. Her strength has a limit. She's a beautiful but human and fragile goddess.
I sighed and tried to gain composure, doing my best to dry my eyes while not letting the thoughts get me far. It was horrible. Living those moment alongside Jenny was emotionally exhausting and raging at times. The frustration and unfairness of not having a cure, and only psychotherapy being a slow help was soul crushing.
I watched her, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling, with her head falling back and resting on the wall. It was an hour already. I checked my watch. Jenny said, they usually wouldn't last more.
I stiffled a sigh, out of my tiredness catching me up after the adrenaline rush, as I didn't want to bother Jenny. She would have pressured me to go to sleep and not stay with her.
It was hard staying with her. But I wouldn't have swapped it for anything else. Jenny was the hero giving me strength. If she did face life with dignity and a smile, I could, too.
She was the one that gave me advice and courage in my darkest days. And I was going to stay by her side, learning more about the disease through research and trying to be more helpful.
I was not going to leave her, even if this situation was going to take years out of her and my life. We were in this together. And, as I see it, that's all Jenny really needed. ❤️