Oliver has recovered quite beautifully from his seizure last Monday. I am still adjusting. Each quiver and twitch sets my heart racing. I took him for a (much needed) haircut this afternoon. He despises them and I always need to psych myself up for battle in the pump up chairs. He gave me a look of terror as we were nearly done and I called it off then and there. It was good enough. I have a fear of somehow inducing a seizure and I didn't want to press my luck.
His seizure was my reminder that I am not in control. This disease will wreak havoc throughout his body and there isn't anything I can do to stop it. It was the pause button I needed to take a moment to reevaluate.
In my mind, Oliver's disease progression will be exactly like Waverly's. Signs, time to say goodbye, peaceful passing in our home. None of that is a guarantee. He could be taken in an instant. He is not his sister. His journey has been different and his death may be different as well.
There has been more hand holding. Prolonged stares as he sleeps and glances in the rearview mirror as we drive. More cuddles and snuggles before bed.
Like many events in our story there is a before and after.
We are in the after massive seizure chapter, hoping for many more chapters to come.