But for now, my head is pounding and I was actually grateful to my son for waking me and getting my body out of bed and out of the comfortable discomfort that settled on me.
I find sometimes, if I get up, take a glass of water, splash my face and write, my body and mind will settle their dispute and leave me in peace. I'll be able to return to sleep and be more restful for the intermission.
My son is back sleeping himself again. My wife and daughter are also sleeping. Only our cat, Maggie, is up and prowling with me. Sometimes, when she sees me awake at odd times I can almost hear her mild annoyance.
"David, perhaps you missed the memo. The first floor is MINE during the overnight hours. MINE - as in NOT YOURS. Please return to your quarters and I'll forget this infraction occurred."
She'll look at me for a minute or two and then stalk off tersely as if she'd given up on me as un-trainable. I can't tell sometimes if she's oblivious or disinterested or just more mature than me and able to go about her business today regardless of tomorrow. I suppose I won't ever know.
I know there is less to worry about than the first time around. For one thing, I know the people we will be working with and trust them.
I still see the face of the kind and professional woman who runs the program at NYU in my mind. She and her staff treated my son with such care and love last summer and to such good results that I know my little guy will be in good hands. They exhibited the kind of professionalism and decency that I hope people find in me. They give me hope.
In a week or so I'm sure I'll be posting how my son is using his cast to propel his toy cars or as an impromptu baseball bat with bouncy balls. I'm sure I'll have a couple of soft spots where he's joyously clobbered me over the head with the hard plastic. I'm sure we'll be smiling.
I'll send an update with our progress then. Good night.