Not from despair. Just exhaustion.
So, let me say this first, and let me enunciate very clearly:
My. Boy. Is. An. Inspiration.
I hope to be more like him when I grow up.
In spite of the fact that he had had no food since ten o'clock last night, and no water since 10 o'clock this morning, and in spite of the fact that his 12:15 MRI appointment was delayed for two hours (i.e., two more conscious hours without food or drink), I never heard one word of complaint.
No talk about hunger, except once in a matter-of-fact way. No whining about boredom. (Hey, I have been around the block a few times. I know about bringing a laptop to the hospital.)
No self-pity. No pissed-offedness. And when we met briefly with the anesthesiologist to talk about what was to come, and said anesthesiologist used the word "seizures" (I just say "staring spells" when I talk about it), I could read the utter terror on Ben's face.
"Seizures? I have SEIZURES??"
"Staring spells, honey. Staring spells."
He sat quietly after that, and bravely. If he was scared still, and I know he was, he endured his fear with such courage. My God, I can't come close to that.
And here, finally, is what you've been waiting for: There is no tumor in his brain. There is nothing that would require surgery tonight or tomorrow or even next week, as far as I know.
But there is much more data in those images than we know about at this point. And I will probably have to wait until tomorrow to hear about it from his neurologist.
There might be something in there that explains the fluctuating cognitive impairment, the incontinence, the staring spells, the occasional replacement of the boy I know with a foundling, another boy who looks like he is on drugs or intellectually disabled. And maybe it will explain why an hour after the foundling arrives he leaves again, and then Benjy does something like spend the next hour on the phone with tech support to figure out a glitch in one of his computer games.
(The tech support guy yesterday thought he was talking to someone named "Penny," which was a little unnerving for Ben -- "That could be a boy's name, right??" "Oh sure, Darlin,'" I assured him -- but together they figured the damn thing out.)
So maybe the MRI will let us know what's up, and maybe it won't. And then I'll pin my hopes on next week's EEG.
I know he's pretty normal now that we're back home, though, because he's asking for Dunkin Donuts every half hour.
For the first time ever, that is a very welcome request.
I'll post another update tomorrow when I know more. Dear Readers, sleep well. I think I might, for the first time in a few weeks. I can't wait.