The Red Kerchief -- Claude Monet
I spoke with The Homeopath this evening and was happy to report that the adjustments we'd made to Sophie's remedy last week seemed to be working. Sophie has been alert and happy for several days and hasn't had a big seizure in over a week. Even the morning bouts are smaller and fewer. This morning she had none.
About ten minutes ago, when I was talking to The Husband in the living room, we heard the soft groan and rushed into her room to find her seizing. Sigh. I've written before about what I believe is my southern Italian inheritance -- a strong propensity for superstition and the power of the Jinx. When we got Sophie settled and she appeared to be asleep again, I left her room and went to my own. In about ten minutes or so,
I heard a strange clatter, so I leaped up from the computer
(to see what was the matter) and ran the five steps down the hall to her room.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
I couldn't see where Sophie was at first in the darkness -- usually she's on the floor or in the corner by the pillows and toys. And while all of this was happening in a matter of seconds, I actually had the thought where is she? Is she gone? And then, I saw her standing on her bed, her back against the pulled down blinds (the source of the clatter), her eyes and hair wild in the darkness. I gently eased her very stiff body down and put her in her sleeping position, wrapping her tight in the blankets. Something is messed up and rewired during night seizures, a wrestling from sleep and concomitant confusion.
What is she thinking up there on the bed, back against the proverbial wall?
I'm just thankful that she hasn't walked off or crashed through it. I'm thankful for a lot of things. Mostly for those toes of mine.
and to all a good night.