As I blogged earlier, Roman was given his first dose of the Buspirone or placebo. I am hopeful that he received the medicine. If the way he’s acting today is any indication, he did. Already, he is extremely cranky, just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. I realize I’m looking for any indication of him getting the medicine instead of the placebo. But what really matters is when he starts talking in earnest. I know he’s already well on his way through his awesome schooling and work we do here at home. I know I’m putting too much faith in the Buspirone, but I can’t help it.
I need something to hold on to. I need the promise of this drug. All I want is for Roman to talk. I’m so scared that he’s never going to get his words to come out. I know it’s an unfounded fear, as he already has a few his uses with regularity. Still, it’s my fear. My mom keeps talking about this boy, Austin, who lives near us. He’s in his late teens and has never talked. I can’t imagine the frustration he must go through constantly. I know that Austin didn’t receive the kind of early intervention that Roman has, and that makes all the difference in the world.
I know I’m rambling in this post. Sometimes, that’s the only way my brain works. Thoughts like this invade and all I can do is think in pieces. So, my words spill out incoherently. Think of this as a snapshot into my mind.
I wish I had something uplifting or funny to post about today, but I’ve got nothing, just hope. I have hope that my Bubby will talk and I have hope for this drug trial. As I get ready to give Roman his second dosing of the medicine, I cling to that hope.