Rocks

A few months ago, Kathryn spent a day collecting rocks. She collected maybe three dozen of them from around our neighborhood and placed them all on our porch. Most were small, only a few were bigger than my fist, but despite the fact that none of them looked in the slightest bit out of the ordinary to me, Kathryn told me she selected each one for a reason. Each one, she said, had something special, some unique quality that set it apart from the rest. So I sat down next to her on the top step of our front porch and she told me about them. She told me about each rock individually, asking me to recognize and confirm the differences that she saw, to affirm the uniqueness of her selections, and in doing so, affirm Kathryn herself. Affirm her uniqueness. It was one of those special moments a dad shares with his daughter if you define special moments by skull-bashing tedium.

Oh my god that girl uses a lot of words. And she just keeps using them and using them.

When Kathryn was younger, it was I who talked to her about everything. I filled our time together with a running monologue of anything I could think of. A lot of it was high-minded and ideological, like what she could be when she grew up or the proper response to handsome princes who might imagine her to be in need of rescuing, but much of it was just stuff I was saying to keep my brain from crusting over with the same dried shell of spit-up to which most of my clothes had already succumbed.

I told her about the water cycle and about social justice. I told her as much as I remembered from my philosophy classes, about Schopenhauer's delightful pessimism and how the Platonic ideals were crap but they were important crap. I explained crock pots and told her the secret to my brisket dry rub. I told her words and phrases I knew from other languages. I told her there is magic in the world and she didn't need to look any farther than a bottle of sunscreen for proof of it.

And Kathryn listened. She drooled and listened and filled herself with the words I spoke.

In her, the words multiplied. They grew and begot more words. And then they came out. A hundredfold. Gizmos turned to gremlins, besieging the air, ridding the world of silence.

However lately the words Kathryn's been using have been hard to hear. These past few months Kathryn's medicines have been speaking to us through her, and they haven't been saying nice things. They say things that eight-year-olds shouldn't say, putting voice to feelings that it's not fair for eight-year-olds to feel. And it hurts. So now we are starting to pull back on the medicines. We have seen the seizures, we have seen the medicines, and we are choosing the former. It is a grotesque choice.

But

four mornings ago I set a dish containing five pills next to Kathryn's Bite-Sized Mini-Wheats. Today the dish contained just two. And for the first time in a long while, I did not begin my day feeling like I was making a mistake.

Let the sparks fly.

Comments

[nursears]

been awhile since I've gotten goosebumps from the tips of my eyelashes to the tips of my toenails...the good kind that lasts for about 10 seconds. Lucky kid to have parents that listen to their inner compasses rather than all everyone else.

[Mort's Mom]

The disadvantage of having a bright and shiny daughter is that sometimes they can make your eardrums throb until they bleed.
I hope all goes well and that you strike some kind of a balance. You have so many anonymous intermawebby friends who are thinking of you all and wishing Kathryn well.
BTW where did you come by your gift for languages? In England we would say "Excuse me young lady, but might one venture to divest you of your bloomers via the medium of dentistry?" - It always worked on me.

[Julia O'C]

Kathryn sounds so much like my daughter. Sometimes I will ask [beg] Violet to be quiet, to please just "talk inside your head." Her response? "No. I like talking with my face."

I hope cutting back on the medication turns out well. What a horrible position for parents to face.

[Bennie]

The Mom made me laugh out loud. Indeed, let the Sparks fly.

[Irma]

Being a parent is hard enough, you and your wife have the added pressure of being Kathryn's advocate. As you obviously know, you have to do what feels right for your situation, for your child.

You have decided to follow this new course for now and it is the correct choice. You might change your minds in a few weeks and that'll be the correct choice, too. No one knows and loves that child the way you two do, and you are obviously doing what you feel is best for her. Bravo.

[Sharlene]

"In her, the words multiplied. They grew and begot more words. And then they came out. A hundredfold. Gizmos turned to gremlins, besieging the air, ridding the world of silence."

Best paragraph ever! Good luck, I am praying for Kathryn!

[Helen]

I borrowed a rather chicklittish book from a workmate about the mother of an autistic boy, called Daniel Isn't Talking. (Not recommended, BTW as it promulgates the "OMG vaccines cause autism!) I thought maybe I should write a book called "Tas won't shut up."

I did the very same thing, too. Practicing for being a weird old lady who talks to herself.

[Tarin]

...for the first time in a long while, I did not begin my day feeling like I was making a mistake.

I'm cheering for you all, just like everyone else, and I just want to say I hear you. I hear you hurt.

[Meredith]

Oy, the choices we have to make as parents. But so happy to hear that you are making a choice based on what you know is right for Kathryn.

The Mom's comment is probably one of the funniest ones I've read, like, ever.

[Teri]

GREAT post! That said, my heart aches for Kathryn and all she has been through.

[Susan]

I bet those sparks will be things of beauty.

[Laura]

1 - Your family really puts things into perspective. I've hurt myself more this year than I have in all the 31 years that came before it. I'm on crutches now with a torn PCL. And I hate it. I'm exhausted all the time from walking with the crutches and I can't carry anything.

But then I think about Kathryn and how difficult her condition must be for her. She can't be herself. That's tough on adults who take meds, let alone a kid. She's one sparky kid and I hope all of her spark can come out and play soon.

2 - The Mom made me snort. The two of you have such a great sense of humor. And it seems to be the same kind. That's wonderful for the two of you. Your kids are very lucky to have you two for parents.

[rachel-asouthernfairytale]

So beautiful.
Popping out of obscurity to commend you for your command of language, poetry and expression and to LAUGH at The Mom's comment.

fabulous.

[Liza]

Laughed my ass off at The Mom's comment.

I made the same talking mistake with my son, who like many of the commenters' spawn, also talks from the moment he wakes up until he fully falls asleep, and then talks some in his sleep. You know, in case we weren't listening during the day.

While baby girl gets less of a running monologue from me, she is exposed to the incessant chatter from her big bro, and she dives right in. I think I may never get to enjoy silence at home again.