Here I Am!

Quinn recently had a grand mal seizure in his sleep.  It was his first in 17 months and up to that point, things were feeling really hopeful; we were already looking towards the horizon of the not too distant future when the neurologist would declare that our boy had outgrown his seizures and that we were free to exit the world of epilepsy. 

As if making it to the medically-requisite “2 years seizure-free” mark would mean we’d hit some sort of reverse lottery. Cha-ching!  Ching-Cha! You’ve lost your epilepsy diagnosis! We have no door prizes for you, folks, but you can leave the EEG electrodes at the door on your way out.  And your worries … and your hyper-vigilance, and maybe even your unspoken reservations about the future.  As if to believe that Quinn never having another seizure again would render him immune, that life wouldn’t deign to deal him another bum card or ever force his hand:  no drug addictions, no divorces, no drownings, no car accidents, no cancers, no heartaches, no wars.

Truth be told, we weren’t just looking towards that horizon, we were stampeding it, charging it with raised fists, demanding the sun rise on all of us, dragging Quinn along, maybe even a little too gruffly by the arm, so blinded by fear that we forgot the simplest truth of all. 

Quinn is who Quinn is. 

And Quinn will be who Quinn will be: today, tomorrow and two years from now, no matter if he has or hasn’t had another seizure by then.

And no neurologist will ever be able to give me peace of mind where my son is concerned.  Not only because neurologists are self-admitted rubes when it comes to seizures, but because it is simply not their domain.

My thought for the day:  Peace of mind does not rest in arbitrary deadlines and electroencephalograms.  And it certainly doesn’t rest in believing that things must be a certain way in order for life to be good, for life to be whole or for life to be holy.

My peace of mind is right here.  In this moment.  And in this moment all I see is a beautiful little boy with a colossal life force, one so sure of the purity of his presence in the world that countless times a day, he announces, with utter glee, “here I am!”