Fields of the Present

Right now as I type this I'm sitting on the couch next to Henry. He's laying down watching Dora. He has just taken his own medicine, which, for the most part, he insists on doing himself. He slept fairly well last night - no anxiety laden interruptions, but he did wake several times during the night, almost sleep-talking, saying the sweetest things. His mind is still very keen. He notices small things and remembers details that confound Tara and me.

He went to his Little Gym class yesterday, he insisted. He mostly watched, but couldn't resist sitting on the blow-up runway as it was inflated. He promptly dismounted with a smile. He sat for an hour watching the kids run and play, the whole time giving me running commentary. "I like the dots on her pants" "Those rings are new" and occasionally, still seated, manipulating the props that the other kids do standing.

Everyone is, of course, at home today as its Saturday. I find more comfort in the weekends now than ever. I suppose that it's the girls' presence. They are so amazing at how they're handling all this. I'm learning better each day to live, just for today, not to worry about what things tomorrow or next week or next month or year will bring. The girls haven't unlearned this yet.

For now, things are comfortable. We're managing Henry's pain, which is still minor, but mood-affecting. We've begun occasionally administering Morphine which is extremely effective at pain management with an incredibly small dose - just a drop or two takes care of things for hours. It allows him to experience things care free and comfortably. He becomes more interactive and is able to be himself.

So we try to keep our time horizon in check. If we focus only on what is required for today, I can smile at what we have. This moment today, now, is all we have and that is enough. We learn to accept what cannot be changed. There are inevitably reminders of the reality of ours and Henry's challenge. There are plans to be made which are unavoidable. The mind wanders over to the pasture of the future, but we have to herd it back into the fields of the present.