Good Times

"Do you ever wonder what's going on in his head?" Florida Evans asked me in a Carribean accent. She really isn't her. But she reminds me of the mother from Good Times. Her rich brown skin glossy with moisturizer and her salt and pepper hair cut short into a pushback.

I don't. I can't. My imagination is on crack right now and what I can conjure up would scare me in the light of day fully awake. I watch him laying there. Reaching up towards nothing and swatting it away. Florida rubbing him with her white frosted plastic gloves trying to soothe him. His vision is currently impaired, a result of the brain inflammation. Typically as the swelling subsides it will normalize but right now I have no idea what he sees. He behaves to me. The doctors are astonished by the fact that he listens. He is obedient to me even in this state. If I tell him to stop he does. If I tell him to do something, typically he listens if he can do the action. This isn't typical of these patients I'm told. That brings me a measure of comfort. Even going crazy I raised a boy who would never disrespect his mother. 

He doesn't speak. He just listens. His eyes sometimes don't register coherence. He is just trying everyday to get better. That's all. He is doing better than he should be in such a short time and he is pretty impressive with what he can do. I sipped the Kool-Aid. I talk about him to people excited and my swollen chinky eyes, so thickened by the crying I have done the last three months, bright with happiness for him as I tell people the story of how he dribbled a ball from his wheelchair. 

I can remember a time when this wasn't my life and I instantly pitied the people who had to talk like that. Talking about their sick kid or excitingly talking about an achievement performed with impairment. I can remember thanking God for my healthy kid and going home to my perfect life.

Life isn't perfect anymore. But I don't think I appreciated it to the extent I should have when it was. This is the new normal, for now. He is on the upward trend and that is all that matters. He stood up today, holding on. He sat himself in his wheelchair and pushed himself back. That is today's tremendous feat. I'll take it! Without complaint. My cheeks are still wet from the days I feared he would not make it. I continue to pray everyday and talk outloud to God like he is my imaginary friend. It brings me comfort, it helps me. I praise God Almighty for allowing me this day of life and further because I was there to see my son.