When I was about 9, a strange thing happened.
The lady that lived across the street from me suffered from epilepsy. She was in her early 30's, tall, long legs, gorgeous red hair, sweet....and her son was evil (another story for another day!!). I am not sure how I found out she had seizures, but I know that I knew.
One day, I was on my driveway playing with another neighbor's daughter, when the lady ran out the front door of her house onto her lawn. She was yelling, and her husband came running out after her. He pretty much tackled her, and they fell to the ground. It happened so damn fast. My first thought was 'Oh my gosh! She's having a seizure!'
So I ran inside, yelling and screaming to my mom 'Call the police! She's having a seizure!'
My mother ran outside, with me trailing close behind.
How embarrassed was I to find out that she was not having a seizure, but she and her husband were just horseplaying, wrestling, chasing each other around the house, ticking one another.
(First off!: Get a f-ing room! Jeez!)
However, my mother told me I had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was proud that I was so willing to seek help.
It was then that I realized, for the first (of many) time, that my purpose is to help others.