Diagnosis

I honestly don't have concepts of time but this all happened in the same day. Dr. Guitierrez had me paged. I had walked into the family room for a minute while they changed Jason and he came back smiling at me with papers in his hand.
"How are you?"
He began. I hate that question. It's like we as a human race need to come up with something better. That question is for greetings at weddings and baptisms NOT funerals and times of crisis.
How THE FUCK do you think I am? This morning I was told my son has morphed into an INVALID and unless MARTY MCFLY brings me some shit from the future I need to get used to it.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???
You took my hope this morning - and ended it with "ok?" and NOW you want to know how I am?
I AM JUST FUCKING DANDY!
I didn't respond. I don't respond to those questions anymore. I am asked everyday and I look the person in the eye. That is usually answer enough.
The text messages I delete.
It's a stupid question.
You know what you can do - if you feel so inclined - text me this:
"I am thinking about you and Jason. I am hoping and praying today is a better day."
If I saw that statement on my phone - It would actually bring me some sort of comfort. It has thought. It has substance. It shows you are not mechanically writing me or texting me because you feel obligated to do so. No variation. verbatim. That would mean the world to me.


"We got a hit on the test we were waiting for, we know what he has and he will begin treatment tonight. Did you see Dr. Honig? What Jason has is something he is a specialist in called ANTI-NMDA Receptor Encephalitis. I have printed you out some literature because I am sure you have a lot of questions. But know that it is treatable. It does take a long time to recover - but Jason can recover 100% from this."


That's when the tremble started. The one that started somewhere in the center of my body and has migrated to my right hand and never leaves now.


My Dr thinks that was the nervous breakdown. But he hasn't seen me yet and will not give me definitive diagnosis on the phone. But I have made enough friends in the hospital that off the record they all agree. I was at my lowest low and my highest high on the exact same day - a lot of people are surprised I didn't stroke out. I hugged him and the world started back up again. Everything was moving fast and I ran to the family room. On my way there my body was funny. My feet were not listening then I felt the buckle. It started in my calves and then my knees and I dropped to the floor. I don't remember on who - I don't remember what I said but I thru the papers to someone and they all knew there was treatment and he was going to be ok and I wailed.
I wailed loud and I wailed hard.
I know that part - because I don't remember it I feel it. I can still feel that cry. Its part of me. I cried so hard because God answered my pray and he was saving Jason and I didn't have to worry about him dying anymore.
That panic and that pain and that anxiety was washing away from me like waves on the beach. Each foamy brush against the sand of my psyche ebbed the anxiety a little.
I wanted to go home.
The nightmare was over.
I didn't know or understand what the disease was - what it did - but I knew the doctor smiled at me and he said "start treatment tonight" and "return 100%".


I went home and I tried to sleep while my sister Nicole stayed.
He woke up into our world just before treatment started and said "I want to go home." Clear as day in front of the nurse/resident and my sister. Then he went back to the place he normally goes now.
It was promising.
It was perfect.