Mama, You Catched Me.
I've heard those words from Monkey #2 a lot this summer. Those words raise the hair on my arms, and not because of his grammar, but because too often I can't...catch him, that is. Cameron has epilepsy, and up until July, I thought ten-ish absence seizures was a tough day for my little man, then something in his brain's chemistry changed. One morning, he paused in the driveway, half way to the car. I looked ahead of him to try and see what had caught his attention, and in my periphery I watched him collapse, face first onto the pavement. I screamed for help, but all the neighbors around us had long left for work. He didn't shake, twitch or stiffen, he lay limp and unresponsive in my arms for the longest ten seconds of my life. Then he cried, and my heart started to beat again. I couldn't catch him that day, and the scrapes on his chin, hands and knees were a painful reminder of that. After trips to the ER, and pediatric neurologist came news I didn't want to he