Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Morning Stream of Consciousness
I sipped my coffee this morning into which I had sprinkled some cinnamon I don't know why and when I stood up to close the washer door Henry said I hear Sophie and then that hearing turned into panic because he didn't just hear her but I did I heard her crying out the way she does when she has a seizure so I place the cinnamon scented coffeee down and ran down the hall not believing that she could have yet another seizure when she had been given diastat last night even but she was so I bent down and then sat down next to her on the bed and waited for her to be done and we're always sitting and waiting for it to be done waiting for the insurance to approve the treatment and waiting for the treatment to work and waiting for the doctor to call and waiting for it all to be over but not really over because we know what that means and when Oliver came in he asked in a different tone of voice so different from his usual strength of tone why is Sophie having so many seizures and she didn't have any last week I guess the Amma hug isn't helping her anymore and I grabbed him up into my lap where I was sitting, waiting and he buried his head into my shoulder and I was reminded of him as a baby when his head fit so neatly into that space between my shoulder and chin and there he was, nine years old and asking the questions and I said I don't know and then I said that things would be all right and that I know you are worried and sometimes I worry too but we can pray that she gets better and would he like me to do that and he nodded, his head on my shoulder and I said some sort of prayer to God, the Lord, whatever and whomever gives comfort, still, to a nine-year old boy who I peeked at through my half-closed eyes and his were closed and he was concentrating on the words I said Dear Lord, please heal Sophie from her seizures and help us not to worry. Then he climbed down off my lap and ran out of the room.
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And then a distant wishing she was an IRL friend read her stream of thoughts and said a prayer too, even as she was feeling sorry for herself and counting to ten for having screamed at her son who is on a ladder painting windows and threw his shoes at the door to get her attention knowing she can't get up but is now furious at the marks he no doubt made , and her daughter for only caring about her upcoming grad and grad trip not enough about her still laid up mother to see if she wants a coffee or water or some company because if there' is something worse than suffering , she knows that being alone certainly is, and that by clicking some love and saying more prayers maybe she can at least make a difference to someone who actually warrants it.ReplyDelete
What more can be said to what you have said? Maybe only, "Amen."ReplyDelete
The dragonflies are dancing in my back yard right now and I am sending my prayers on their wings to you and to Sophie and to your son.ReplyDelete
And I pray the same for you and for Henry but most especially for Sophie.ReplyDelete
Elizabeth -- I'm so sorry to read this. This is a very powerful piece of writing. I am sorry for these relentless struggles with seizures and suffering.ReplyDelete
I send you warm hugs and wishes for respite and relief.
sending my thoughts and prayers to you all
This is very moving, Elizabeth. My prayers, too, are with you.ReplyDelete
Oh Elizabeth, I have tears in my eyes. Because I wish I could help. Because the seizures aren't stopping. Because you write with so much power and grace.ReplyDelete
A sweet boy, and a sweet daughter, and so tiring to slide back down the mountain from that small and peaceful plateau. If only we knew how to transport her there again, and make it bigger. A campground. I hope that in the process of comforting Oliver your own heart was strengthened to carry on, as you have for fifteen years and counting.ReplyDelete
I love the beautiful prayer that you said. And I will be saying it for you too.ReplyDelete
We will keep Sophi in our prayers. I am sorry she has to suffer so so much.ReplyDelete
This brings tears and Love.
Your beautiful writing. Your tender Place. That sweet little brother/son.
I just love you.
I live in your world -- not the seizures, but something different. I wish there were something we could say or do to make this awful nightmare just GO AWAY. Thinking of you and your family...ReplyDelete
Oh gosh, tears.ReplyDelete
Praying with you guys.
Elizabeth, I am so sorry this is happening.ReplyDelete
I love the openness and honesty in your home; it will help everyone to cope.
May God bless your heart and your dear children's hearts, with love and peace and healing. May you feel held in safe and comforting love. May all of our prayers lift you and carry you when you are tired. XOXOXO
in our prayersReplyDelete
I'm so sorry that Sophie is having seizures again. I am keeping you all in my prayers.ReplyDelete
It feels like the seizures are attacking her brain, slowly killing bits of her. Or maybe the seizures are carving away the extra, leaving only the essential Sophie.ReplyDelete
Regardless, it would be horrendous to stand by helplessly while my daughter's brain is ravaged by electrical activity.
I'm sorry Elizabeth.
I'm so so sorry.ReplyDelete
dear elizabeth, this is painful and exquisite. your wrap all your babies in such powerful love.ReplyDelete