Mark was away at Safe Haven this week. We were helping Erin move to Brantford where she will be studying at Laurier. We were also working on our latest home reno project. We were so busy that I didn't often stop to think of how Mark was doing. I think I'm still pinching myself about how his seizures seem to have gone. Do I dare hope for more? Or, If I call will I hear bad news. It's a strange way to feel, hope and fear don't belong together.
Then Erin and Linda popped in for a visit and returned with a story that he had been laughing. When I heard that my heart jumped.
Today we drove Erin to her new home. She's just off campus in downtown Brantford, sharing a rental house with a couple of other girls. It felt strange as we drove away, leaving her to her own journey.
When we got back to the city we went to pickup Mark. I was wondering as we entered the building if there would be more good news, or something else. Checking out at Safe Haven is a detailed process and we each have or roles. I look after equipment, clothing, and body check. Linda reviews charts and counts back any remaining meds and signs a gazillion forms. It's a busy time. As I was hustling around doing my thing, I was desperate to know. Finally I blurted out my question, "Did he have any seizures". The answer that came back was, "No, but he laughed his head off".
One of Mark's little treasures is his laugh. You can never quite predict what will push his funny button, but when it's pushed it's awesome. It's been quite a long time since we've heard Mark laugh til he can't breathe. Sure we've had little tiny hints of laughter, but not the real deal. Well, this afternoon as I walked across the great room at Safe Haven Mark started to laugh. I had been there for a few minutes and had been walking back and forth, but it was as if he'd just figured out who I was. This is often the case with Mark when we've been apart for some time. He looked up, saw me coming towards him and he started laughing. His face shines with a big happy smile and his body rocks and shakes like a Briggs & Straton. As I got closer his laughter pushed my funny button. Then there were two of us on this big bean bag, laughin' and jiglin'. The pattern of the laughter was regulated by our need for oxygen. The laughing was the priority, the breathing only done to facilitate the laughter. Laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh...breathe.
Since Mark's trip to the hospital he has had only one seizure, and now the laughter has returned. Dare we hope for more?
Yes, I do!
Dad
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