From mom to drug dealing monster slayer.

pop

slide

toss

swallow

hope.

 

pop

slide

place

swallow

hope.

 

wrestle

slide

place

swallow

hope.

Tiny red boots in a tube.

My nightly routine of taking a low dose of anti-anxiety/depression medication always ends with hope.

Hope that these little pills which feel a little magic  will sooth my mind and fortify my spirit.

Drug pusher.

The 2x and 3x daily routine of my husband and I pushing drugs on Tutu. Heavy duty anti-seizure meds that do as much good as harm.

Valproic Acid. Keppra. Ativan.

Soon, we’ll be starting to give her cannabis to see if that helps curb the seizures, and a big part of me is hopeful that we’ll be one of those families in a video that goes viral talking about how Tutu is an entirely different girl now – one who can walk again and who regained some of the use of her hands.

See? Hope – it’s nearly a religion at our house these days.

Friendly neighbourhood drug taking, drug dealing, soon drug smuggling (legally) mom.

Meds help me stay out of the cracks my brain falls into when I forget to take them.  I didn’t need them BR (before Rett).

Will they become like oxygen, something I can’t live without soon? Hope my doctor gets that referral in soon; all my follow-up and muscle-in is reserved for Tutu’s needs. I need to make sure I don’t run out for that.

Drugs are at once my aid and my crutch, with them I am armed against the monster named Rett.

And I wonder:  will the day come when I have shaped my brain and my nervous system in all the ways that are needed to stop seeing monsters.Monster2

 

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