Saving Elijah

him to me, of course, right after it happened. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about. He's right as rain now, Mrs. Galligan, but it might have been a small seizure so I knew you'd want to know."
    I thanked her and put the phone back in its cradle, slowly, softly. I sat for a long time before I picked up the phone again, to call my husband, and to call the doctor. Oh, and I also first said a prayer.
    The next day we brought him to Dr. Selson, who made an adjustment in his medication, which didn't help. He had several more visible convulsions in the next few days. The doctor put him in the hospital, changed his medication again, poked, prodded, tested, and observed him. A neurosurgeon came to consult. His name was Dr. Manheim, he was reputed to be the best. A proper Brit, he somehow managed to be very formal without being aloof, but he told us that surgery wasn't an option, that it wasn't a lesion or something he could go in and go after, he was very sorry.
    Sam and I met with Dr. Selson in his office. The purple dinosaur puppet sat idly on his desk. The doctor ran his fingers through his hair. "It's some sort of metabolic disorder. Unusual. He's having several different types of seizures. I'm truly sorry."
    "Maybe another surgeon," Sam said, tears filling his eyes.
    The doctor sighed. "We can certainly call in someone else. I think if he were my child, I would." He clasped his hands in front of him. "I wish I could assure you that he's going to be okay, that I have some magic potion, or some knowledge or skill to make this go away. I don't. Sam. Dinah. We know quite a bit about the brain. But there's far more about the brain that we don't understand. We're going to do everything we can, of course, I've seen some of these new anticonvulsant drug combinations work wonders. But I'm not going to lie to you, or mislead you. That I can't do."
    I thanked the doctor for his honesty, and Elijah came home with us the next day. His convulsions were increasing in frequency and intensity all the time, he'd developed a weakness in his left side, and he was groggy from all the medication, but he carried on, bravely.

    *    *    *

    Near the end of that momentous year, Julie came. My mother had written to her, it seemed. And there she was, standing in my doorway. I hate the way people tell friends they haven't seen for years that they look exactly the same, but in this case it was true. Julie was still a beanpole, freckles still littered every square inch of her pale skin, and her hair was still a bright orange fuzzball, though she'd pulled the top half of it back in a barrette.
    She was grinning. "Charlotte as peacemaker? Now there's something I never thought I'd live to see."
    "You live long enough," I said, "and you see everything." I held my arms out, and we stood hugging in the doorway for a long time.
    She whispered into my ear, "I thought you might need me, Di."
    I told her that I did. My son's seizures were nearly constant now. He was beginning to lose the power of speech.
    Elijah had a pretty good afternoon, nevertheless. And Julie and I were able to begin the slow process of catching up on all the lost years. When Sam got home, he managed to turn around an initial moment of awkwardness between him and Julie with a joke, then the three of us talked for hours. Kate got Elijah ready for bed, reading him his stories, and Sam and I went to tuck him in, then brought his monitor into the den with us. After Sam went to bed, Julie and I talked for a while more. Around midnight, during a check, I found Elijah lying awake in the dark. He seemed to want to be with me, so I carried him out to the den and sat him on my lap. I stroked him, tried to reassure him. Julie gave me the gift of being able to watch our suffering without turning away.
    The next day, my mother and father came, insisting that I take a few hours off. Becky, Julie, and I met at a new restaurant on Main Street for lunch. A lovely place on the second floor, Mexican decor, overlooking the Saugatuck River. The waiter, lurking nearby, kept coming over to see if we were ready to order. Each time he asked we laughed as we realized we hadn't even looked at the menus.
    For a few hours, I enjoyed the company of my friends, and even managed to accept their compassion and sympathy. Twice I called my parents to check on Elijah.
    "Try to have a good time, and relax for a little while, honey," my mother said. "Elijah is doing fine."
    Well, he wasn't doing fine, of