I just hung up from a conversation with R, one of Jonah’s awesome behavioral specialists at Anderson. She called to tell me how Jonah’s been doing these past two days (since he’s been on the Clozaril. The dose is very small right now and they monitor his vitals more than once a day).
Then she says she’s about to walk down to the residence and enjoy some chocolate cake with Boo. And he’s helping make the cake with one of his caregivers.
Then she says (I could actually hear her smiling) Jonah’s been calm and aggression-free for both days. He was in a couple of managements today, but they were waaaaayyyy easier to handle. No violence, just the ol’ swat motion. In his classroom, he was happy. He was laughing. Dancing. Able to participate.
[After typing that I paused and read it again, and again, and then another time, allowing the words to be real – things that are actually happening.]
Do I sound too hopeful?
Does it matter?
I bask in this news. Allow myself to envision what she described. Drop my shoulders, un-clench my jaw. Exhale.
Even if it’s all just for these two days — thank you, God.
The Never Normal 