A short experiment that yielded no tangible results except drowsiness. Valuable in itself but no relief from the constant hum of the dreaded words of the aide. We have decided to return to the track of treating this like OCD and head down a path paved with fluvoxamine. Once again, starting with a low dosage (25mg) the first one applied late this afternoon. We won't know much for 7 days or so, maybe longer.
We do now definitively know, I guess, that anti-psychotics are not helpful.
While out for a walk with my son after dinner, a short 'round the block sort of walk, we ambled while my son muttered the usual secret spell. On the way through the park at the end of our street, my son reached out to me and held my hand. He did so deliberately and held on, not to steady his gait but just, I believe, to touch me.
Maybe to let me know he's still here.
Maybe to let me know that he is coming back.
I can always hope, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment