It's Monday night and I am finding myself in a situation I know all too well. Around 3:30pm they transferred her from our past weeks residence of 8118 to PEMU room 8138, to get a behind the scenes look at her seizures. I have now spent the past 4 hours hitting buttons and documenting potential activity. The familiarity and absurdity of this life rerun catches me after the last button pressing. She has been whimpering for 20 minutes now, almost an ironclad confirmation that the reason I hit the button was validated, I will know for certain in 12-14 hours. As I look into her blue/green eyes they taunt me; that was stupidly the wish I made the whole time I was pregnant, "please let me have another blueish eyed baby". I see the glossiness in her eyes as she whimpers and the emotions build behind mine.
I don't understand. I really do not think I ever will. Why her? Why me? Why us? We should be home with her siblings, with Sam, in our house. I should not have to be here alone during another holiday. It hasn't even felt like one to be honest. Since Saturday I have read more than 500 pages of a book I never would have considered opening, finished 5 magazines from cover to cover, timed airplanes taking off and landing, and studied the arrival and departure of cars from every parking lot that is within my view. This is not my first time completing the tasks that I just listed. In fact, I am pretty sure I have resided in each of these rooms at least one other time over the last 3.5 years and have partaken in other meaningless time eating activities. At least I got the rooms with the bed.
My heart hurts for Sonzee in so many ways. Another specialist now added to her list, more diagnoses added to her already lengthy compilation, and more pain. Always pain. Why couldn't her CDKL5 mutation give a lifetime of laughter and trouble with being too happy? Why couldn't she just not have a CDKL5 mutation to start? Instead we have nights of pressing buttons that result in more taunting alarms that are triggers in and of themselves, taking me back to the very first stay when she was only 4 weeks old. I can still picture everything about that stay, as I stared at her image on the screen in the video I even saw her look the ages she has at each PEMU hospitalization, these wounds won't ever heal. The room itself is taunting as it gives us new information but rehashes the old.
A CDKL5 mutation for her is the gift that keeps on giving...or rather really doesn't give anything appropriate in order for her to be pain free and content. When I think she has hit rock bottom I quickly learn there was so much further she could go, because she has hit it now. That is until the next byproduct of having a CDKL5 mutation comes sneaking out from the depths.
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