Hello, medication…my old friend…

There was a moment of recognition that passed between the spoon, the pixie stix dust, the pill and J.  Like people who haven’t seen each other in a while, some sort of change has ensued, and they meet up randomly in a familiar landscape, hesitation and then enthusiastic welcome happened.

J had heard the word “medication” floating around the doctor’s office the previous afternoon, but -as it happens with other things people mention- it isn’t real until it materializes.  There it was right in front of his eyes: small, a pinkish adobe color, circular and resting on a pillow of blue pixie stix dust.

It didn’t make him sleepy, but it obviously relaxed him.  I don’t know if it was so much the  chemical effect as the familiar routine of something that, he knew and we knew, somehow regulated the “noise” that overwhelms him.  This didn’t stop him from hitting himself during his shower.  That will take a while to go away, of course.  No one here thinks that the pill is the magic solution, or that -like the magic beans in the good ol’ beanstalk fairy tale- it will work overnight.  What was encouraging was the realization that J knows this is meant to do something that he’s been having trouble doing by himself…

He slept better last night than he had in days.  This morning he was happier when he woke up, and stayed in his room relaxing for a while.  His little fairy lights, his fans going full tilt, and him curled up in bed smiling at me as I went in to tell him to get his butt in gear.  The tense muscles, the face locked in a frown, the jaw that looked like a coat hanger were gone…

Yes, he hit himself when I swapped out his bandaids, but what started out as hitting slowly transformed into gentle tapping between one and the next layer of bandaids.

Something of the edge, the sharp and jagged edge of discontent, seems to be ground down.  I don’t think the problem has been solved, or that it has gone away, but some of the veils that are making the view unfocused are starting to sway in a light breeze that may eventually lift them enough to let us all see what’s on the other side.

That’s all we need.  We don’t need a silver bullet; we need a machete to clear a path so we can get to what needs to be done to help J.  Like the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow, we have it in us, but we can’t see it YET.

Today, tomorrow and Friday I intend to play by ear the days and nights of life in this household.  I know there are things that I need to figure out before I figure out others…because this goes in layers.

So that’s what there is for now.

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