I might. Not sure. But after typing on Sunday that Bennett's seizures had actually lessened in severity and frequency and laughing at the irony of it, I find myself as far away from laughing as a man can be. I Jinxed our good fortune.
Since that time, I have witnessed three of the most horrific sets of seizures he has ever had. EVER. Just saw another one. If it had gone on one more minute I was going to go for the Diastat, something I have yet to do.
These aren't just 'salaam' type jack-knife types, there is something more to them, hard to describe. A violent, sustained convulsion, bending backwards not forwards, strange grunts. Then another, but this one more like the ones I've seen before. Then two quick bursts, then leaning WAY back, arms stiffening, moaning. Then pause, then more of the same. Pause. Something different.
I want to he hopeful. I really do. About this week and about this surgery. But I'm not right now. I'm too weak, too wiped out mentally to hope. I can't shake this awful feeling of...what's the word I am looking for...dread. I have got to figure out a way to switch it off. Or I'm toast mentally.
Anyway...Jen and Carter went out for some Mom/Kid time since we won't be seeing him for a week (at least) after tomorrow. Bennett is post-ictal on his mini-sofa, totally out, and I sit here clacking at the keyboard.
That's the latest...maybe I'm hoping I'll reverse the Jinx. Now that I have talked about how bad these seizures have been, maybe they'll weaken to make me eat my words.