By evening the storm had moved in, though I’d felt its burden all day. It began as heat lightening, piercing the black tangle of trees and illuminating bits and pieces of sky in staccato. Before midnight the sky cracked open, its rain hammering down like nails. I rushed out of bed to close windows, my naked form lit by strobes, while repeated claps of thunder pounded as if in my chest.
My boy, too, had seemed to feel the weight of the coming storm, his first steps of the morning weak and wobbly. He’d come off of the bus flushed and lacking his usual smile, then he stumbled and, later, failed to hug the house carefully to aid him down the steps of the deck. Instead, he dangled like a puppet from the harness in my hand.
The temp outside got close to ninety. I checked the barometer looking for low pressure, studied the calendar expecting a full moon to be nigh, then reviewed my journal which read:
slept restlessly
head-rubbing
fingering
awake from 3:30 am
napped 7:15 am - 8:15 am
pulling my hair
aggressive
floppy
And then I added:
SUSPECT SEIZURE TONIGHT/SOON.
Yesterday was little different; the rain came in a deluge at times. Calvin continued to walk poorly, like a noodle in his shoes, but then became spastic and agitated in the bath. I gave him his evening seizure meds a few minutes early, thinking it might make a difference. It didn’t. The seizure came anyway, and as he sat on the Berber mouthing his toys, I watched it creep in like a bank of clouds. His face flushed, then drained as the seizure took hold. With his mouth slung open, his expression appeared that of a child frightened by the storm, and when I laid him on the bed I could swear he looked as if begging me to make it stop.
Five minutes passed and the seizure seemed to ebb, so I carried Calvin to his bedroom, his limp body sifting through my hands like sand. As I felt his sagging weight I thought, this is how he’d feel if he were dead, and indeed his face appeared pale and blank as a corpse.
Throughout the night the torrent pressed on, rapping on Calvin's window as he slept. Lightening lit the night sky in fits and starts; Just like my boy’s brain, I thought. And I laid there in bed and wished the rain would wash away all of the hurt, all of the fear, all of the scars, and carry them out to sea.
My boy, too, had seemed to feel the weight of the coming storm, his first steps of the morning weak and wobbly. He’d come off of the bus flushed and lacking his usual smile, then he stumbled and, later, failed to hug the house carefully to aid him down the steps of the deck. Instead, he dangled like a puppet from the harness in my hand.
The temp outside got close to ninety. I checked the barometer looking for low pressure, studied the calendar expecting a full moon to be nigh, then reviewed my journal which read:
slept restlessly
head-rubbing
fingering
awake from 3:30 am
napped 7:15 am - 8:15 am
pulling my hair
aggressive
floppy
And then I added:
SUSPECT SEIZURE TONIGHT/SOON.
Yesterday was little different; the rain came in a deluge at times. Calvin continued to walk poorly, like a noodle in his shoes, but then became spastic and agitated in the bath. I gave him his evening seizure meds a few minutes early, thinking it might make a difference. It didn’t. The seizure came anyway, and as he sat on the Berber mouthing his toys, I watched it creep in like a bank of clouds. His face flushed, then drained as the seizure took hold. With his mouth slung open, his expression appeared that of a child frightened by the storm, and when I laid him on the bed I could swear he looked as if begging me to make it stop.
Five minutes passed and the seizure seemed to ebb, so I carried Calvin to his bedroom, his limp body sifting through my hands like sand. As I felt his sagging weight I thought, this is how he’d feel if he were dead, and indeed his face appeared pale and blank as a corpse.
Throughout the night the torrent pressed on, rapping on Calvin's window as he slept. Lightening lit the night sky in fits and starts; Just like my boy’s brain, I thought. And I laid there in bed and wished the rain would wash away all of the hurt, all of the fear, all of the scars, and carry them out to sea.
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| photo by Michael Kolster |
Yeah--the weather is brutal. It used to be almost inevitable that on these 90-degree New England days I'd have clusters of seizures. I was just thinking about that the other day, in fact, because it is a tradition at Vassar for the seniors to welcome the Freshmen at convocation in their graduation gowns and proceed with them into the chapel. It is always a really hot endeavor during the first few weeks of school. I am fairly sure that I remember about 1/2 of the Freshman ceremony because I was seizing through the whole thing. I feel so grateful for the changes that the last four years have brought...
ReplyDeleteBethany can talk a little and she does beg for the seizures to go away. It is heart wrenching. All we can say to them is we want them to go away too. I hope Calvin didn't have any more than the one. Christy, I was wondering if you'd consider doing a guest post for me. You can read more info about it here http://www.faithfulmomof9.com/about-you/
ReplyDeleteI'd also love for you to link up with us on Fridays if that's something you're interested in. I'd love for you to add your perspective on life for us. No pressure, though I won't be offended if you decline.
sylvia, you are so kind to ask me to do a guest post. i'd be happy to, though in looking at your site i see that it seems to be somewhat faith based. i do not believe in god, more in nature as divine, so i am concerned that might pose a problem for you and your readers, not that i would chose to post something in which i'd bring that up. i can certainly submit something that didn't broach that subject at all. let me know if you still want me to contribute. thanks for thinking of me and for your thoughtful comments on my blog. christy
DeleteYes I still do want you to guest post for me! You and I aren't so very different on many issues and I'm a bit of a unconventional Christian! I'd like my readers to hear your voice. My regular readers are kind and gracious. Though I can't guarantee you won't get any negative comments form transient readers. Any comments that you might get that you would like deleted just say the word and I will!
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