The sound is faint, but it is too rhythmic to be anything else at 11:30 pm. So, I walk hesitantly into the hall because while normally I want to run to the aid of my child, part of me hopes that if I stand here for a second or two, I'll realize it is the wind, not my daughter.
But it's not the wind or the dishwasher or the settling floorboards. It's my baby in her teenage form convulsing violently in bed. Another nocturnal grand mal seizure that stops after 2 minutes but then starts up as another weird seizure which is less violent but significant nonetheless. I memorize what she is doing so I can write it down later, because it's one of those crazy ones with bizarre, repetitive head movements... with eyes wide open but unresponsive, pupils dilated, body shivering uncontrollably. After 10 long minutes I'm at the point where I think it will never end and right before I'm ready to scream, cry and panic all at once, it finally frees her body and leaves her in peace to sleep.
But it's not the wind or the dishwasher or the settling floorboards. It's my baby in her teenage form convulsing violently in bed. Another nocturnal grand mal seizure that stops after 2 minutes but then starts up as another weird seizure which is less violent but significant nonetheless. I memorize what she is doing so I can write it down later, because it's one of those crazy ones with bizarre, repetitive head movements... with eyes wide open but unresponsive, pupils dilated, body shivering uncontrollably. After 10 long minutes I'm at the point where I think it will never end and right before I'm ready to scream, cry and panic all at once, it finally frees her body and leaves her in peace to sleep.
When I finally feel comfortable enough to return to my room from her bedside, it is well after midnight. Through my window I notice that the moon, which had been a bright silvery disc of brilliance when I had first climbed into bed, is now muted behind the trees. The silhouettes of the naked tree branches are like black scars over its round face. So dim, I can scarcely make out its light.
Posts
3 comments:
heart wrenching and beautifully written.
Like many of your posts, I sigh in recognition and cry a few tears and feel gratitude that you're out there, my comrade, writing your truth in such beautiful and mysterious ways.
The photos of your girl, that look -- it's just uncanny how she resembles mine (not so much the physical although there's some similarity, but the essence).
Your grace under fire is astonishing. And the branches scarring the moon's face are so telling.
Post a Comment