From January 2008
They say it gets easier. They’re wrong. It gets harder. The seizures become more frequent. First every six weeks, then every two weeks, every ten days, every week, twice a week. Anti-seizure drugs continue to go up and up and up. I hate opening these blue-white and orange-white capsules to sprinkle the mysterious white powder into his yogurt. If he takes a breath he’ll inhale the dusty powder and it makes him cough and grimace. He is so dutiful. He doesn’t want to take it. I tell him it is his medicine and it will make him feel better. Maybe it actually makes him feel worse. I don't know. He can't tell me. I say “take one bite for Mama” and he does. All the while I am feeling like it is some sort of evil concoction. Who knows what it does to his brain? The chemists don’t even know exactly how or why they work, if they work. Then there are the tablets; the small square ones with rounded corners, the ones with GX 52 embossed on one side. He is starting to refuse his yogurt and I can guess why. He knows. We need a way out of this medication nightmare.
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