Saturday, June 29, 2013

I Forgot To Ask

Here I am this morning holding my breath and waiting for my son to get up. You might ask why I'm back holding my breath again. Well, that "disease of hope" I spoke of yesterday is now snickering over there in the corner of my heart and mind because of what I learned yesterday. Because, based on my life experiences in the last year, there is no rest for the weary. I find that this nasty illness hasn't moved far from my son's mind after all. That's not to say I believed he was cured, (ok, a little tiny microscopic naïve part of me did) it's just that I thought we'd finally found a medication that was going to work but apparently I thought wrong.

My boy...

(note here that I refer to him as my boy when I discover things like what I'm going to tell you and I feel like he is my helpless child in need of his mom and proper and immediate care) in the car yesterday after work and he was beaten down with tiredness. The work he had done that day was very mentally taxing and he was at his wits end, mentally speaking. All he wanted was to get home and go to bed. That in and of itself worried me because I know too much pressure and too much stress can worsen his illness. I told him to really pay close attention to how he's feeling as far as his schizophrenia goes and to let me know what he notices especially if there are changes. Then, as it always does with this HATEFUL ILLNESS, I was hit with the thing I wasn't expecting because I was busy languishing in my hopeful feelings.

"Mom? You didn't ask me this morning how my night was." he said.

"Oh I'm sorry kiddo, how was your night last night? Was everything ok?" I asked.

Bear in mind EVERY MORNING since this all began a couple months ago, I have, without fail, asked him how his night was. Well, yesterday I didn't and I'm kicking myself now for not having asked.

"Well mom, I'm hearing a woman screaming now." he said.

"You are? Can you tell me more about it?"

"It sounds like she's being murdered, like in a horror movie."

At this point I've stopped breathing and began the process of shutting all emotion down so as not to worry him. I began asking questions about it. Long story short, this is a real voice that he hears loud and clear and it's scaring him to death.

Terrific. Just freakin' TERRIFIC. What is with this illness?!?!? Can't my kid catch even one break?!?!? Can't he have a couple weeks off? Can't he just be done with this once and for all? PLEASE?!?!? I would give anything to take this away from him.

So, here I sit this morning in a quiet house, holding my breath, waiting for him to wake up, and PRAYING that the woman in his head wasn't screaming last night and that he'll wake refreshed and cheery and ready for the day.

One can hope right?

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