Closer I am to fine

"How are you doing?" my neighbor in yoga class asked a couple weeks ago. 

"Fine!" I chirped. "Doing well!"

I wasn't fine. I've been down-dogging next to this friendly acquaintance for a couple years now, but still I didn't feel comfortable telling her how I was really doing.

"Well, my son had a seizure a couple days ago, and the truth is, I'm kind of a mess."

I felt wildly disingenuous uttering my false words of cheer. Yet I wasn't comfortable going the other way. Unburdening myself with my tales of woe did not seem like the best lead-in to a yoga class partly intended to clear the mind.

It struck me as funny afterward how often we ask one another how we're doing and how infrequently we answer with the truth. It's like some kind of verbal tic. We ask and answer and unthinkingly.

Nearly three weeks have passed since the morning of Paul's seizure. That first week, I was tense with worry, part of me always on the lookout for another seizure. Our schedule was a little out of whack due to Paul's midweek sleep deprivation EEG. I was weary and snapping at everyone - even more than usual. And I can be pretty snappy.

I felt a little better after Paul's test had passed, so sure was I that it would show nothing. When we got the results back the following Monday, my worry returned full force. We received word that the EEG had come back abnormal with a note that the doctor wanted Paul to see a pediatric neurologist ASAP. We were able to learn little else that day. I tried to set up an appointment with the neurologist but was stymied there as well.

It wasn't until the next day, when Mark obtained a copy of the EEG report, that a little relief came. Based on the EEG, the report states that Paul may have a condition called Benign Rolandic Epilepsy. It's often characterized by seizures that occur during sleep. The good news is that most kids outgrow the condition by their teen years.

I began to feel a little better again, but still I wanted that appointment scheduled, wanted our questions answered. That process would drag on a bit, I would learn, when at the end of last week we were informed that the neurologist would review Paul's case and call us to schedule an appointment in a week or two. Not the news I wanted.

Even after a huge challenge has been dropped on you, life doesn't stop throwing hurdles your way. In the wake of Paul's seizure Ben was out of sorts with a combination of worry for his brother and jealousy of all the special treatment Paul was receiving. Add to that a report here and there of a difficult day at school for Gus. I think I've developed at least three new knots in my back these past few weeks.

I have to say, though, in spite of it all, I'm amazed that we're holding it together relatively well. I've been anxious my whole life, imagining scenarios, telling myself I could never handle it if something terrible happened. Then something pretty terrible did happen, and we're okay. Perhaps I'm stronger than I knew.

Things are beginning to look up. Paul continues to do well. We finally got that appointment scheduled for early April. It's not as soon as I would like, but then again, it could have been late April rather than early.

With each passing day, I get closer to fine. I think one day soon, I just may be able to tell my yoga mat neighbor that we're doing well. And mean it.