Dagnabbit! How can a little half-pint body be right taking twelve-hundred milligrams of Rufinamide, thirty milligrams of Valium-like Clobazam and seven-hundred-and-fifty to a thousand milligrams of Levetiracetam every gosh darned day? How can a little brain be right?

Michael reminds me that Calvin’s brain isn’t normal to begin with, so perhaps all these innocuous looking pills we sink into his yogurt every morning and every night might be giving him a leg up. The newest one seems to be curtailing his seizures pretty well, though not completely. But the kid is, at times, a wacko, laughing hysterically at nothing—as if howling at the moon—poking his eyes out, grinding his teeth, snapping his fingers so fiercely I’m surprised he hasn’t sparked a flame, walking like a drunken cowboy and incessantly covering his ears as if hearing buzzes or bells or worse ... voices.

Calvin never was gonna be a normal kid, but if not for these goddamn seizures and these mind-warping drugs, might he not have become such a maniac?

But I guess if he’s going to be a kook—seems to me all kids are little weirdos to some degree (and I say that endearingly)—at least he’s the dagnabbit cutest oddball I ever did know.

Halloween 2008, 2007, 2009, 2010

No comments:

Post a Comment