Lisa Folsom final draft

(finished on a picnic bench at Coral Pink Sand Dunes, Utah)

Wearing a top hat, a bright yellow dress and black and white striped stockings, Lisa Folsom cheerfully greets her friends and family with warm hugs as they enter her apartment on a sunny March afternoon. She turns 30 today. Sometimes she wonders where she would be now if things took a different course 11 years ago.

In the summer of 1999, Folsom had just graduated from high school in Hendersonville, Tenn. She had a scholarship to Middle Tennessee State University and was considering a career as a nurse practitioner or doctor.
She never made it to her first college class.

She spent the next six months in and out of the hospital battling a suspected bout of viral meningitis. She lost her scholarship because of her health, but the worst complication was yet to come.

One afternoon shortly after recovery, Folsom was about to enter the mall when she lost consciousness, dropped to the ground, and started seizing. It was her first grand-mal seizure. She had become epileptic.

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. But again, to a self described "incurable optimist" and a staunch believer in karma like Folsom, maybe it was.

Tenacious, resilient and always positive, Folsom hasn't let her condition ruin her life. Eleven years after falling ill, she has finally decided to reclaim what was taken away: an education. She is enrolled as an online student at the Art Institute and aspires to become an interior decorator. "Maybe this was the path I was supposed to take," she says.

With big brown eyes and a mischievous smile, Folsom's appearance belies her age. Her fantastical birthday attire is a tribute to one of her favorite books - The Mad Hatter. She spent over a week meticulously decorating her dining room for the occasion. She painted the walls a candy-like azure blue and adorned it with crisscrossed pairs of roses. The windows are covered with blue sheets with moons and stars. On the table is an elegant arrangement of teacups, flowers and stuffed animals.

"Almost all these decorations are from thrift stores," Folsom says. She speaks as quickly as a rapid river and is never embarrassed to hide anything.

The table display stands in contrast to the adjacent kitchen counter, which is cluttered with imitation sodas, pizza boxes, chips and plastic cups.

There isn't a trace of weariness in her as Folsom glides in and out of the party, looking after her two kids, joking with her parents, downloading music and simply having a good time. "Want to hear some Tupac?" she shouts as she runs to her computer.

It is not hard to see where Folsom gets her energetic, quirky personality. Her father Butch protests loudly as she puts bunny ears on his head. She then wraps a purple scarf around him and hands him a clock to hold. "I'm not keeping these on for the whole party!" he exclaims, but still willingly heads to the dining room to pose for a few photos.

Later on she rummages through a box of random jewelry acquired off Craigslist with her mother Marlene, trying on '80s style bracelets and earrings and laughing loudly at each other. "You look like you have mouse ears!" yells Foslom from across the room. They are a boisterous, outgoing, big-hearted bunch.

Possessing a great sense of humor, Folsom never hesitates to make light of any situation, even her own. She has considered being a comedian.

"I couldn't do it," she says with a big laugh. "If I dropped in the middle of a routine, they'd think it was part of the show!"

She wasn't always so open about her epilepsy. The seizures come and go with unpredictable frequency. Last year, she had one almost every day, but she had only one all year so far. After each grand-mal seizure, Folsom wakes up not knowing where she is and who people around her are.

Folsom refuses to take disability pay, even though she is eligible, and while it has been hard to find work, she still persistently sends out job applications.

"I believe I have the ability to make my own," Folsom says.

Folsom knows her limits. Even though she is perfectly capable of doing so, she hasn't driven a car in 11 years. She made a tough decision in fear of having an episode while driving.

Physical limitations aside, nothing much can stop her. She recalls how she marched up to the Obama campaign headquarters when he visited town last year. She told them straight up that she is an epileptic without a car but was wiling to help. They immediately put her on the committee.

A lot of her independence and willpower comes from her upbringing. Her parents worked as union organizers and were frequently on the move. Folsom was born in Kansas City and moved to Salt Lake City when she was six. Her father had a well-paying job in Utah, but when she was 12, they decided to move to Nashville to be closer to her maternal grandmother in Missouri.

This move turned out to be tragedy after tragedy. Before they even left, her grandmother passed away. While they were away, some teenagers in the neighborhood destroyed everything in their house. They had to give up their new house in Nashville, file for bankruptcy and move into a trailer. Shortly after, her paternal grandfather died. As the eldest child, Folsom assumed the responsibility to encourage her devastated parents and keep home life happy for her two brothers and sister. Folsom believes that this series of events gave her family the closeness that they still enjoy today. Her parents were eventually able to put their life back together and purchase a house in nearby Lafayette.

Folsom never abandoned her open-mindedness and cosmopolitan sensibilities in small, conservative and mostly white Lafayette. Chad Butcher, who has known Folsom since the sixth grade, said that she had a rough time with some students because she "wasn't prejudiced" and didn't fit the small southern town mold. Butcher was epileptic growing up, and he said that Folsom was one of the few that never looked down on him. "She was like a mother hen," Butcher says. "She was one thing that let me know that there were more people like that out there."

After becoming epileptic, Folsom went through a period of depression. She felt she had lost her purpose, but she didn't lock herself up. Instead, she went all out, partying and trying illicit drugs for the next three years.
"I did many ridiculous and stupid things," Folsom says. "That time of my life was very dark."

To make things worse, she entered a relationship with a verbally abusive alcoholic. The abuse got physical once, cumulating with him setting a barn on fire, stomping her head in the gravel and chasing after her with a shotgun. She left immediately. Around this time, her father decided to retire to Missouri, so she left Tennessee with them. Their first stop was Farmington, her mother's hometown.

Folsom didn't realize that she was pregnant. She also didn't anticipate that it would become one of the most bizarre chapters of her life.

"I went through months of fighting to prove I was pregnant," Folsom says, as it was virtually undetectable. "Doctors wouldn't confirm it."

She finally accepted her doctor's diagnosis, but her body insisted otherwise, so she stopped drinking and kept her body healthy. However, over the next few months, she never felt even a kick, and her belly didn't swell.

Her instincts were right. On the night of Oct. 23, 2003, Folsom left work early. She complained of stomach cramps and nausea. Without warning, she suddenly went into labor. Doctors later told her that the fetus was so small and so far back in the uterus that the pregnancy tests didn't show anything. Folsom named the five-pound baby girl Marley Belle after the famous reggae icon. Her coworkers threw her an impromptu baby shower in the hospital.

The unusual circumstances of Marley's birth prompted Folsom to reevaluate her life. "The way I had her - most people wouldn't have had a child that lived," she says. "It was meant to be." She snapped out of her depression. Folsom had intended to stay in Missouri for only a few months. It has been seven years.

It's getting late at the party, and Folsom's sister Candance is preparing to leave. Folsom brings out the birthday cake, which is also tailor-made for the occasion. It is a purple top hat with a yellow band, topped with icing flowers and a pocket watch. She spent all night working with her husband Tim Govero on the cake. Govero was a chef before recently being placed on full-time veteran disability for bipolar disorder and other physical problems.

Folsom met her Govero while working at Applebee's in Farmington. Coming home from work one day, Govero discovered with disbelief that his wife had cleaned the bank account, put a notice up on the house, cut all the utilities and took the kids. Upon hearing this, Folsom immediately offered Govero a place to stay, and they soon started dating. Folsom remembers the first time Govero picked up Marley and held her - she knew that he saw her as his own daughter. The couple married for financial reasons after their son Ike was born in 2006 after a normal pregnancy. They never cared much for marriage, and they still celebrate their anniversary on the day they got together instead of the day of their wedding.

Govero says that Folsom keeps him positive when times get tough. "She'll bug me, be a retard, and crack me up," he laughs.

Folsom and Govero are about to light the hat-shaped birthday cake when they realize that they forgot to buy candles. Without hesitation, Folsom grabs a large round one from her teacup display and places it on the cake. They light it, and everyone gathers around to sing Happy Birthday. Surrounded by people she loves, Lisa looks perfectly happy and content.

"I've done a lot for being 30 years old," she says. "I'm really excited for the next 30."