My heart shreds into tiny pieces every time I see Calvin have a seizure. It is agony to see his perfect little body stiffen and jerk. His supple lips turn blue, his buttery soft skin becomes morbidly ashen and his limbs convulse and clench and shake. It is my torture to watch his suffering, to see the terrified expression on his face, fearing what he might be seeing or feeling. The emergency Valium is bitter-sweet. Maybe it offers Calvin’s brain an escape; some respite from the waves of electrical activity that surge and spike and burn. It sends him into oblivion. I don’t believe in hell but each seizure sends me into my own shadowy abyss.