the bright side

Yesterday was the kind of day that reminds me of all I have to be grateful for:

After stopping Epidiolex several weeks ago, Calvin had "only" six grand mals in August instead of the ten he had in the span between late July and early August. Notably, his behavior is much improved overall. He's had far fewer manic episodes and is sleeping more soundly. Two-and-a-half years since his last dose of the benzodiazepine, Onfi, he is doing well in the wake of seizures; no longer does he experience what seemed like panic attacks which included a pounding, racing heart, clammy hands, hyperventilating, fidgeting and patting the bed for hours in the middle of the night.

The weather is gorgeous. Sunny. Breezy. Mild. Dry. Humidity having vanished, skies are as blue as they are on any given day in the West.

Calvin is doing well sitting on the potty. Not perfect, but I'll take any bit of progress he can give me, including far fewer dirty diapers. He's getting used to the routine of washing his hands, though I still have to help him quite a bit. He seems like he is understanding us better when we say things like, "don't bite that" or "let's go for a car ride."

Only rarely is he grinding his teeth or poking his eye. He still loves hugs and car rides. He doesn't wake me up as much at night.

Joe picked Kamala. She said yes. The democratic platform is righteous.

The first-year college students are in town, wearing their masks outside, walking six feet apart. When we stroll past each other, I smile and tell them how nice it is to have them here. They say thank you and tell me how good it is to be on campus. So far, only one of them has tested positive for coronavirus; He has to quarantine for two weeks, which makes me sad.

I just got my first letter from the man on death row who has become my pen pal. I hope I can make a difference in his life. He has already made a difference in mine.

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