The seizures have been bad, lately. They have come nearly every day, and when they do, they are longer and more severe, according to Aaron. This morning he woke up weak - could barely eat his cereal. He did not go to school, of course. I was just relieved that he woke up this morning. I was relieved that my child woke up. I was afraid that he wouldn't. I don't know anyone else who understands that.
I came to work because I need to get things done, and I don't think he needs me there, and this is really fucked up, but I need to be away from it. From the storms in his head. I know he can't get away from them, no matter how badly he wants to, and here I am just leaving to go to work. What kind of fucked up thing is that? What kind of mother am I?
I don't want to live to see him die.
