About three months ago we began seeing seizures again. These were clearly a new type (tonic, with some clonic pulsing at the end of larger events) and I immediately reached out to our neurologist. Unfortunately, after seven plus years of relative seizure freedom, it appears that Trevor has relapsed and his epilepsy is no longer responding to medications. We've always known this could happen, but after seven years one begins to hope. As you can imagine, our hearts are heavy and our options impossible. We have a lot of testing and talking and soul searching and praying to do over the coming months.
In the meantime, we persevere.
In the meantime, we persevere.
One of the greatest concerns I have as his mom and educator is loss of skills. Seizures and the medications used to treat them are not notorious for flourishing cognitive growth. Indeed, we have been struggling of late. His focus and attention have regressed dramatically. It seems he's lost some math facts and sight words he once knew solidly. I try not to be discouraged and dwell on what this means long term; it isn't easy.
Today, as we played his favorite memory game (Renaissance Art) he noticed this painting and paused thoughtfully to consider it more closely.
After a moment he turned to me and said, "Mom, I know that story!"
It was then that I remembered two weeks ago he'd learned this story in his Sunday School class. This is an example of what Charlotte Mason calls "the science of relationships"; when a child naturally makes connections inside their own heart and mind. Often it's difficult to know what connections are being made inside of Trevor's, but today he gave me a sweetly lovely glimpse.
And it was a reminder that there is more to life than math figures and sight words.
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