It's about day five, I think, since I started squirting a dropper full of yellow tincture sort of under Sophie's tongue. I haven't seen much effect, yet, and while I at first attributed that to it's too early to see, I'm wondering now whether I have the right stuff, the right dosage, the right proportion, the right everything.
That's the thing with trying new things when you've been trying new things to no avail for nearly two decades.
You read about children getting half their brains removed and they're back to normal! Have you ever considered surgery for Sophie? people ask, and while I know the intent is good (they saw the special! It was a miracle!), I have to bite my tongue, hard, to not scream, We're talking about cutting someone's brain open and taking out half of it, people! My daughter's brain! I say, Unfortunately -- or perhaps, fortunately, Sophie is not a candidate for brain surgery.
I saw a special on a high fat diet the other day, people will say, have you ever considered that for Sophie? (Yes, twice -- once during frontier times, 1995, when Sophie was not even six months old, and then again, when Sophie was about five years old and the experience was so traumatizing that I still sweat when I think about it. I have a chapter in my book titled Two Tigers in a Cage devoted to it, if you'd like more information).
So, back to the CBD/Medical Marijuana. I joined a Facebook group called Pediatric Cannabis Group, an incredibly motivated bunch of parents of children with horrific seizure disorders who converse for what seems like all day in earnest tones about CBD, THC, Charlotte's Web, Cannatonic, Colorado, California, lobbying in New Jersey. There are government conspiracy theorists and housewives and I'm trying to keep up with the threads, and I just can't. I hate threads. I hate conversing about this shit. I hate figuring it out.
Last night, I went to see the new documentary about Bruce Springsteen, and when I woke up this morning, the thread of Thunder Road was making its way to the surface and I want to just follow that thread, the one that Bruce is singing, you can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain, make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain, waste your summer praying in vain for a savior to rise from these streets --
Turn it up.