Hurt

Phoenix had a seizure yesterday.

I was home alone. Usually, during the day, I'd be asleep. Because it's usually when my pain is less, and I can, at least part of the time stay asleep. But the tennis ball's giving me major pain. Any sleep I get it broken with pain, so I'd been up since 6am, both feeling like my abdomen was being torn out, and having another migraine.

A few days before or after, and I would have been at the doctors or the hospital. Appts and tests.

But no.

Instead, I was in the bathroom, when I heard a strange sound. Like...thumping. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. It sounded like it was outside. But it didn't sound like the birds, who are always landing on our roof to get a drink from the eaves.

My mind had to know what it was. So I limped my way downstairs. But I couldn't hear it at all there. Confused, I just stood in the living room for a moment.

And then, out of nowhere, my brain did a frantic flip forward.

Boo.

Where was Pheen?

I started to run. Fortress of solitude? No. Basket? No. Cat Carrier? No.

Oh Jesus, upstairs...

I don't remember taking the stairs, but I'm going to guess somehow I did it at full run.

I dropped t my knees the moment I crossed into the bedroom. It's where he's been hiding when he's upstairs, when he doesn't want more food or medicine, or just when he feels terrible.

And i saw what my brain knew it was going to see. What I never wanted to see again. What more than twenty years later i still have nightmares about.

Phoenix was seizing. The noise I was hearing was his limbs, cracking back into the floor.

I got to the foot of the bed and yanked it into my dresser. i got ahold of my nightstand and shoved it until it was nearly in the closet, and then I dropped back to my knees. Cradling his head and trying to see if he was still breathing.

He was hyperventilating. And the seizure was so bad he had soiled himself.

I had no way to help him, no way to get him to the hospital.

I grabbed the phone to dial then SU.

And stared at it.

I couldn't remember how to use the phone.

And,as if my brain wasn't screaming it frantically at me already, I berated myself to "Focus! You're all he has!"

And then I dialed the number, still cradling my baby's head, and talking to him. In case he was conscious. His eyes were open. But that doesn't mean he was there. My own medical conditions give me convulsions. Medically they're identical to seizures, except that you're conscious to feel the pain.

I didn't know if i wanted him to be aware or not. I wanted him to know he wasn't alone, but i never want hm to feel the kind of pain i feel.

There was a flurry of phone calls between me and SU, who was breaking ever speed and traffic law that wouldn't be fatal to get home.

One of those calls told me to get the number for the hospital, so they could prep. Another told me to get cornsyrup.

If his diabetes fucked up because of...everything...and his insulin was too high....

I rubbed one globe of cornsyrup into his mouth. And because I was worried too much could have got caught in his fur, I rubbed a second glob, deeper in.

And I kept talking to him, telling him how much I loved him, and that I would love him forever, no matter what. That family is permanent. Our bodies will fail us, but love is forever. But to please stay with me. please.

And then he went still. He stopped breathing. His eyes just stared off, completely blank.

And I knew that we were too late.

But now I could hold him without the horrible fear of hurting him worse. I grabbed the knitted blanket off the the bed, the one I made that we wrap him in at smuggle time every night.

And I picked up my boy, completely limp, and held him in arms, still telling him how beautiful he was and how much I loved him.

Then his head moved.

Before the horrible pain could leave my chest, he started seizing again. His tiny body failing against mine.

I've always believed that if there are gods, they're cruel. The most abusive parents imaginable. And I never believed it harder than yesterday,

Only someone full of hate could have done that to my son. My precious little boy.

In the eternity before the SU got home, he stopped seizing again. I wanted to sing to him "Novacaine" by Green Day, just like I did when he was terrified about all the trips to the vet when he was first diagnosed with diabetes.

But my brain wouldn't bring me the words.

What it did bring me was "The Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance.

We got him to the hospital. I held him the whole time. They praised my first aid, said I did everything perfectly, but all I could think was it wasn't enough...

They kept him overnight, because he could seizure again, and they have anti-convulsants.

One night of snuggling I'll never get back, And I know there must be so few left.

They left him wrapped up in my blanket, and they broke their own rules and let me go back to ICU. I knew my poor boy had to be in pain. After convulsions, I hurt for days, because every muscle in your body has been strained far beyond its breaking point. But he lifted his head when I saw me.

And i assured him that if they'd let me I'd sleep in one of the other cages.

They didn't let me.

I spent last night and this morning crying. Not just for the images in my head that will never leave, but because I can't help him enough. My own pain means nothing to his...