hope to hell i'm wrong

Calvin was so close to finishing up March with only two grand mals. But his damned epilepsy, like I was saying the other day, played catch-up again.

At school yesterday, Calvin's aides noted how often he tried dropping to the ground, both in the morning and in the afternoon. He was also loud, and by the end of the day, when he was in his johnny-jump-up, he was fingering madly and not quite his best self. Still, the rash on his buttocks—usually a common harbinger of seizures to come—was faint, and so I didn't think much of his chances of an imminent seizure.

Last night, Calvin stirred and sat up a couple of times, causing me to have to reposition him in bed. At the time, I considered giving him some THCA cannabis oil, but opted not to, thinking he didn't need it; I was wrong. At five a.m. he suffered a grand mal. I rubbed lavender oil on his spasming feet and dabbed some of it on the pillow under his nose. The seizure was very slightly shorter than most, but he woke half an hour later quite antsy, and it took him hours to calm down.

Eventually, Calvin improved enough for me to send him to school, which gave me the chance to take Nellie for a two-mile jog (I'm picking up "running" again now that most of the snow is gone.) My sense is, though, that Calvin is not out of the woods, and that he may be in for another bunch of partial seizures this week.

I hope to hell I'm wrong.

Last night in Calvin's jumper, photo by Michael Kolster

No comments:

Post a Comment