Fate Carries You Away; Drifting Further and Further

Chapter 17: Paralyzed By Time

Aslan Callenreese

12 Aug. 2015

Some people look forward to their birthday.

Not me.

When I was younger I used to be happy whenever the time was there again, but for the past couple of years it has only felt like a step closer to death.

It's exactly like Griffin first explained it; if you come across a Banana Fish in the sea you'll feel like dying. That's how every step feels with this disease. How many more steps to go? Can't I die already?

It's not like I want to die, don't get me wrong, but the bad emotions just hit me harder on my birthday. Because I know another year has passed, and it wasn't a great one.

I reached the point that my daily headaches start to hurt me when I'm reading and I sometimes just completely black out for a moment, but that hasn't even been the worst.

My older brother's been getting worse. Some days he wakes up and it looks like he doesn't have the slightest idea who or where he is. It sometimes only lasts a couple of seconds before he stops spacing out, but sometimes he sits there and takes an hour or even longer to remember.

It's scary, and painful to watch, when it happens. I always catch myself wondering if he will come back to me whenever he sits there like a shell of himself for such a long time.

I haven't experienced much fun things this year, like I did previous years; since Griffin's barely able to leave his bed and not really able to talk properly anymore. It's like he's forgetting the language.

So, with all the heartbreak I've faced this year, I'm nowhere near surprised when I wake up sweaty after a terrible nightmare. As I throw the clammy blankets off myself and catch my breath, I start to realize that I got leaped from the one nightmare into the other; real life.

I hear wheezing beside me, an almost painful sounding gasping.

I turn to the hospital bed with the gates where Griffin's usually still asleep by now. But today that's different; he's lying on his side, facing me. His pupils are diluted and he's blinking an awful lot.

"Griffin?" I ask, just loud enough that he should be able to hear me. "Are you okay?"

His eyes don't look at me when his mouth starts twitching. He starts chewing and repeats that over and over again, and I immediately know what time it is; he's having another Grand Mal seizure.

I crawl out of bed and walk over to him. I sit there, stroking my hand past his clammy cheek.

"I'm here, Griff," I tell him. "Just relax, okay? You're going to be okay."

His eyes gaze at me, but I know he probably barely even notices I'm here. That's why I make sure to calm him down by touch; I carefully caress his cheeks, neck or arm or take my hands through his hair, like I remember him doing during one of my own seizures.

He mutters something that sounds like a completely different language, and his entire body seems to contract as he lets out a moan. In moments like this my older brother looks nothing like Griffin.

I swallow and close my eyes briefly, telling myself I only have to hold on a little longer.

I go through this, sitting by his side while he experiences such immense fear, almost two to six times every day. He's been doing much worse since they told me he's nearing the end of stage four. And even outside of his seizures and nightmares, Griffin seems nothing like himself.

Underneath my hand I feel the twitching stop; we must be nearing the end of this one. Though it has been a bad one that almost lasted for five minutes already, but it's over now.