He's just the same as before.
Nothing has changed
but two more words:
Schizoaffective Disorder.
There are still those two other words that we know so well:
Autism and Anxiety.
Those two new words come as no surprise.
Except for his.
The other night,
he asked me once again,
to tuck him in
and sit in his room as he
fights with the voices in his head
(some voices with words and some voices mumbled).
He lamented,
Isn't there a cure for Autism?
A wordless pause.
Hadn't you heard what the doctor said?
Did I not tell you what she said?
You've been hearing voices since you were ten.
He quickly corrected me
and said, "nine".
She says you also have Schizoaffective Disorder.
Another wordless pause, and he asks,
"What is that"?
Another wordless pause
and a deep breath.
It's similar to Schizophrenia in many ways
but also with some mood problems too,
like depression.
"Well, that makes sense," he says.
Then he is quiet.
I know he is thinking this through
and my heart drops to my stomach.
"I hate my life",
he cries out.
He says a few other hard to hear things
out of frustration, desperation
and I guess, fear.
You are no different than you were last week.
Your medicine is the same.
The doctor thinks about you just the same.
She likes you just the same.
"But it changes what job I can have".
No it doesn't
(not that it won't be difficult,
we know it will be,
but it's his symptoms
---symptoms he has had for years---
that makes many things difficult,
not a diagnosis)
We still have to find a job for you that works,
just the same as before.
Everyone has to find a job that works just for them,
no matter what.
We talked about other things
he was worried about
until he was through.
I sat there just the same,
as I frequently do,
until his breathing gets deeper and slower
and I know he is asleep.
I brush his hair with my hand,
gently kiss his forehead and
say those three words,
that are just the same,
I love you.
