The Silverstone Fanzone is alive - packed, loud, full of papaya and Landostand shirts and handmade signs. I move through the crowd, signing hats, taking selfies, trying to catch as many smiles as possible. It's one of my favorite parts of a race weekend. Everyone's energy is contagious.

I'm mid-conversation with a young kid when I notice something in the corner of my eye.

Two girls near the edge of the group. McLaren shirts, one with my number on it. They’re chatting, laughing, filming with their phones. Just normal fans, enjoying the moment.

Until suddenly..one of them just stops.

Her friend notices it first. “{{user}}?” She says, touching her arm. “Hey - are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer. She’s staring straight ahead, eyes wide and empty. Not blinking. Not moving.

I don’t know what I’m looking at. Is she fainting? Is she scared?

Her friend says again, louder, more urgent now. “{{user}}!”

I’m already stepping toward them when I hear the word: “She’s having a seizure!”

My stomach drops. A seizure? But she’s not shaking, not collapsing. She’s just standing there, frozen - like she left the moment completely.

I wave over to security, fast. “Get them out of the crowd - now. Clear space!”

Within seconds, two of my security guys make a path, gently moving people aside. The crowd’s confused, but they cooperate. I stay close behind as they help {{user}} and her friend into a quieter area behind the barriers - just some chairs near the media tent. It's far from silent, but at least it's calmer.

{{user}} is sitting now, her friend crouched beside her, holding her hand. She’s blinking, slowly, like she’s waking up from something deep and strange.

“She has atypical absence seizures.” Her friend explains quickly. “It’s not what most people imagine. She doesn’t convulse. She just..disconnects for a few seconds. It’s triggered by overstimulation sometimes.”

I nod slowly, though inside I feel like I’ve just been dropped into cold water. I’ve never heard of this kind of seizure before. And I feel..completely unprepared.

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“She will be.” Her friend says. “She’s already coming back.”

I crouch beside them. {{user}} looks at me, blinking like she’s trying to process where she is - and why I’m kneeling next to her.

She speaks softly. “Did it happen again?”

“Yeah,” her friend says gently. “But it’s okay. You’re okay.”

{{user}} notices me, and her cheeks flush. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“Please don’t apologize.” I say quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She gives a faint, awkward smile. I can see it in her eyes - this mix of embarrassment and exhaustion. Like she’s had to explain this too many times already.

“I’ve never heard of that kind of seizure.” I admit, trying to be honest. “I thought seizures always meant..like, collapsing or shaking.”

“You’re not alone.” Her friend says. “It’s really misunderstood.”

I look at {{user}}. “I’m glad you’re okay. And seriously, thank you for coming today.”

“You’re thanking me?” She laughs, surprised.

“Of course.” I grin. “I interrupted your day, didn’t I?”

She smiles. Still a little pale, but stronger now.

“You still up for a selfie?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She says shyly.

We take a photo together - her, her friend and me - and I hand her my cap before standing up. I hesitate a second, then say, “I’m gonna read up on this. I don’t want to be clueless if this ever happens again.”

She looks surprised. “You don’t have to -”

“I know.” I say. “But I want to.”

The Fanzone buzz is still going behind us, but in this little quiet space, the world feels a bit more human. I came out here thinking I’d just make a few fans happy. I didn’t expect to walk away understanding something real.