I'm sure it did for her. Seizures suck a metric fuckton of anal sphincter.
Mine aren't drug related (at least, aside from coverage wearing off med wise), and they happen usually when I've just awoken. Not sleep paralysis, sometimes I've got up, woken up, if wishing I hadn't, before an atonic seizure, usually starts with major muscle weakness, briefly, before turning into almost complete paralysis, and as it wears off, turns into a myoclonic seizure. If I'm lucky, I can get to the bottle of chlormethiazole caps I keep close at hand and get a couple down me, since I can still swallow, breathe, but not much more, remain semi-aware in a fucked the hell up kind of way, although sometimes it'll just hit me like a truck and someone else, assuming there is anybody there to see it and to realize that I'm not moving because I can't, not because I don't wish to, has to stick the things in my mouth, open the bottle etc., and if lucky, I'll be able, weakly, to move my hands enough to tell them a couple of words, numbers in ASL sign. Its a real pain in the arse. I'm just glad they almost always seem connected with sleep. Because otherwise, I could really see it likely that I'd meet my end at the end of something nasty and arsenical, acidic, strongly basic, just generally toxic, corrosive or else have somebody murder me for turning into a walking, weapons-grade stench factory of the kind no non-chemist could imagine something so foul as to prepare for its being ignored.
If there is a god, I'd probably end up meeting him without anything from about the height of the lab bench down, and be found by someone as a torso next to a pair of smoking shoes. Not a thought I relish much I must confess.