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Topic: START (02/25/16)
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TITLE: A Fresh Start for Tommy. | Previous Challenge Entry
By Danielle King
03/03/16 -
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Sleep had become the enemy, tricking him into spurious imaginings; robbing him of precious rest.
Its inception was innocuous - a TV soap depicting a young lad skirting a gang of local bullies, only to be hit by a passing car. The boy was ‘different,’ like Tommy’s big brother. Likewise, when inexplicably Tommy refused to eat, it emerged that he’d viewed a man choking.
Tommy always shrugged off questions regarding why he shouted when alone in his room. It later transpired that he was commanding the disturbing thoughts to stop.
Tommy’s mum couldn’t understand why her beautiful boy awoke in tears each school morning, or why such a livewire chose to stay indoors, alone at play-time.
Just four short years ago…
“Mrs Smith, you have a very intelligent little boy.” Miss Griffin was beaming. “He’s way ahead of his peers in reading and writing, and his imaginative stories are a delight to read.”
Now it seemed the imagination had turned inward.
But why?
Tommy started life loudly. Up and running by ten months his first words rapidly developed into incessant chatter. And together with interminable energy he wore even his little friends out. And yes, he had many of them. Home was a thoroughfare for the neighbourhood kids.
But now, Mum began to ponder more and more on the past, how Tommy always chose his Bible Story book at bedtime and always asked for the same story, Noah’s Ark.
Sameness – security. A familiar pattern was emerging.
The move from primary to secondary education proved disastrous. Other manifestations of anxiety and oddness began to emerge. The hand washing rituals; breakfast bowls complete with untouched cereal that he thought he’d eaten, languishing in the sink. And apples, minus one Tommy-shaped bite, forming a trail down the drive akin to Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.
However, it was the random grimacing, shuddering and spaced-out expression that concerned his parents the most.
Tommy’s mum rightly earned the label ‘neurotic.’ No more platitudes; he’ll grow out of it or, he’s seeking attention. No! This was not ‘typical lad’ behaviour. Mum wanted action!
And so commenced a very long haul.
An array of ‘ologists - neuro, psycho and many, many more proved fruitless, though all agreed that Tommy ‘perhaps’ suffered some sort of seizure activity.
Scans and graphs from every discipline were inconclusive. Nothing was happening fast!
One day, in yet another waiting room, mum glanced up at her son and wondered when it was that little Tommy had transmuted into a strapping grown man.
Now tired of medication trial and error - mostly error, sick of being doped up, lethargic, jobless and friendless, Tommy took to drink.
The scenario changed dramatically.
By nature an equable soul, the combination of incorrect antiepileptic medication and alcohol was calamitous.
Tommy’s seizures took a violent turn. Never, ever directed at people, but not sparing inanimate objects, in an eye-blink he could morph into a raging bull.
Drama became the norm. Waiting to see the dentist, Tommy’s fist began to pound the table. Mum’s reassurance to alarmed onlookers was unconvincing. Frantically trying to control his actions, Tommy stamped and stormed through the waiting patients, fisting his head – hard!
Against mum’s wishes, a blue light ambulance was called, and off they sped… again!
Punching and kicking, squealing, spitting and facial grimacing presented a frightening spectacle to the uninitiated, especially so when one seizure quickly followed another with no sign of abating.
And there was no indication when one might trigger.
Appointments, outings and holidays – everything became stressful. There was always a high possibility that a seizure would start.
One day, patching up the swollen fist responsible for demolishing the fish-tank, mum started to realise it was a long, long time since she spoke with God. There had been no time, pitching from one crisis to another.
Might He be raining shocking-pink post-its upon her? A gentler prod would likely go unnoticed these days.
A fresh start, mum decided. After all, it was God who knit Tommy together in her womb; God who created his inmost being. He’ll fix him or He’ll not. Either way He knows what’s best. Mum consciously surrendered control.
Tommy’s wrecking sprees are now in the past. He was referred to a top Consultant Neurologist, who over a period of two years titrated new medication until effective seizure control was attained.
Tommy has got a life.
Praise God!
*True story of a man with a complex diagnosis of anxiety related frontal/temporal lobe epilepsy and Asperger syndrome.
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I hope this rates well - it deserves to.
Blessings~
Well done.