Nightshift

I imagined it. Jason would be alone this weekend because of the storm. Maybe that is why it happened. The hospital is understaffed. The storm initiating the tales of woe that started from early this morning on the Head nurses phone line. She was excited to see I was still here when she assigned me my job. I am Jason's 1-1 tonight. He's my son. That does not scare me. The parent too bougie to care for their own child should be slapped. He has a nickname among the nursing staff.

Night shift.

He matches their shift minute by waking minute. Keeping them on their toes like a 16oz cup of Bustelo to the brain. He fidgets. He shadow boxes. He tries to stand in bed or kick at the netting. All stereotypical behavior of the disease. As the brain tries to heal it makes you do some crazy things. This behavior is a far cry from the fleeting moments My Jason shows up and does something amazing.

Tonight for the first time he moaned. I am not sure if he was testing his ability to speak or tickling his trachea by the sound. But it is another new and exciting step towards "awakening". In the meantime, I'll watch him do his fake basketball dunks, try to bite the gloves off and swat the netting. It hurts sometimes to see him go to that mental place where I can't find him. But it is all part of the recovery process. No matter how ugly it sometimes get, I have to hold fast that he is still unwavering from recovery.