Play is hard work,
Learning how to play,
With a constant diminishing appetite,
Fatigue slips in,
Like a bad smell,
And so from extreme circumstance come extreme measures.
We will wean Isaac from his anti-convulsants.
I feel shaky,
Knowing full well the risk,
And the high probability of failure.
But optimism jumps up and down for attention,
And I dare to say hello.
And so we incrementally reduce the does,
Day by day,
Week by week.
Thirty-one days of watching him like a hawk,
For any signs of a twitch,
A jerky eye movement,
A tongue tremor,
Until we’re down to nil ML,
And by night.
He is medication free for the first time in his life.
And to all our surprise,
And outright joy,
The seizures do not come.
And in the place of a persistent fog,
And an upset digestive system,
Comes a clear eyed strength.
An alertness both physically and mentally.
Unwrapping before us within a matter of days,
Like a gift I didn’t realise I was waiting for,
All that is Isaac.
I swear profanities out loud to the universe,
Not to dare take this away from me,
And despite my logical minds reasoning the absurdity behind it,
I carry on imprecating any amount of revenge,
Should it so much as provoke.