by L. U. Ann
“It is. I love watching the children come alive on stage. As the children find their inner imagination, learn how to express themselves and play their part, it’s truly magical to witness. So during the day I not only paint scenery when needed, but I also build props, create programs, and sometimes work on the number of websites I manage while the children are in school. At night, I’m either at the pool coaching, at the theatre helping out the director with the children or chilling out by the pool at home.”
“If I remember right, you coach swimming for Special Olympics, right?”
“Yes, and I love every bit of it.” I beam. “I’ve had a blast working with the athletes. There isn’t anything quite like it, to be honest. They are all amazing. I could have the worse day, and once I walk into practice, everything’s forgotten. The smiles, the hugs, and the laughter remind me what’s most important in life. The silly shenanigans that some of the older guys pull can drive me bonkers, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. They knowingly challenge the practice drills I plan hoping to rouse a reaction out of me. Sometimes I ignore them and sometimes I play along because they need to have fun, too. The level of effort they put into each practice is unbelievable. Baby Lane is on the Special Olympics swim team as well as the local community team. I don’t want her to think she’s different. And she doesn’t. She gives her all no matter what she does, and so do most of the athletes. Their perseverance astounds me because there are so many capable people out there who don’t try and then there are the individuals who try so hard to accomplish something that might come easily for most, but it means so much more when they succeed. I wish more of the world lived like this.”
“Wow, it sounds like you’re in a pretty good place.” He appears genuinely happy.
Humbled by the subject matter, I reply. “I am. Thank you.” A cool breeze descends upon me from the air vent above as the air-conditioning kicks in. It’s refreshing and inviting as my face heats up from the excitement of telling the good doctor what I do.
“Are you sleeping?” he asks raising an eyebrow and knowing how I’ve neglected sleep in the past in order to get things done.
“Yes, I’m getting about eight hours,” I assure him, tilting my head to the side, and smiling.
“Very good.” He smiles back. “You know sleep is your number one medicine, right?” I nod agreeing. “Good, there is only so much medicine can do. You need to stay on your medicine to keep the therapeutic dose in your system. That along with a good night’s sleep and healthy living can keep you from having symptoms,” he pushes. “You need to also remember not to put too much on your plate. I know you have a tough time saying no to people.” Oh boy, do I!
“I know,” I drag out. Saying no is very hard. Why do I feel I owe so much to everyone around me? I’ve had to learn things the hard way while, unfortunately, putting myself at risk of having symptoms. “I sometimes get swept away when I paint. I lose track of time and reality. To me it’s therapy. Helping me ignore the tough subjects of my past. I know you don’t like to hear me say this, but manic episodes help me get so much done.”
“Lacey, I know how much you enjoy the high of mania, but what concerns me—and if you’re honest with yourself, it concerns you too—its that those highs are followed by lows and not just any low. When you come down, your brain often sends your mood lower as it tries to heal or recuperate from the mania. This is when you tend to get depressed and have bad thoughts.” I nod and chew on my lip as I listen intently.
“Also, remember you don’t need to forget the past. You need to let go of the guilt, but it is something that will stay with you forever. It’s part of you. You just can’t dwell on it so much that it puts you in a bad place.” His concern is evident in his furrowed eyebrows, long jaw, and telling eyes. I nod again.
“It sounds like you are doing everything you can to keep your moods in check, Lacey. You know what you need to do to help yourself stay well. There will be times that you cycle and we’ll need to adjust your meds. While lifestyle and medicine control most, the changing of the seasons will affect your mood, too. Just keep that in mind, and if Devon mentions something about your mood.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good. Remember when you are cycling you won’t necessarily recognize the alarms those around you see. You need to have faith in Devon. If he notices something, you owe it to yourself to think about it. Don’t bite his head off. He loves you and has your best interest at heart.”
I nod again. He’s a hundred percent right. If anything, my aunt has taught me to never go off my medicine without speaking to my doctor first. Devon will know everything. I love myself enough and those around me to know doing something so stupid could hurt those I love most.
“I’m thrilled you are doing so well. Now, how’s Evan doing?” he asks. This is always nerve-wracking for me.
“Well, his doctor is trying another medication. They took him off all of the ones the other doctor prescribed that caused all the weight gain and his tics. His doctor doesn’t believe he has Tourette syndrome, but is sending us to the top doctor at Hopkins to find out. It’s hard to watch your child’s moods fly all over the place. Add the hormones, and it’s hell. As long as we can keep him from getting depressed, I think it will work out,” I finish.
“Okay, keep on top of him, please.” With tight lips, I nod knowing what can happen. Living on egg shells to keep your son from flying off the handle while the doctors figure out what to do is scary. Stupid bipolar runs in our genes, and there is not one damn thing I can do to prevent it. Devon deals with pain management, not medicines and chemicals in the brain. I don’t want Evan to be a zombie. I just want him to be a happy 12-year-old boy. Devon is so good to him. We honestly hit the jackpot!
“Well, you know I like to send you with a gift every time you leave my office,” Dr. Offutt entices. I smile. “So, today’s gift is—you wake up every morning with a specific amount of brain power. Depending on the activities you do throughout the day, they’ll use different amounts of brain power. Things such as brushing your teeth or getting dressed come naturally, because you do them every day. It’s repetitious and doesn’t take away much of your daily brain power. However, challenging activities, putting too much on your plate where you begin to stress along with frustration use more brain calories. If you don’t get a good night’s sleep, you wake up with even less than your normal level. This is why sleep is so important for you and Evan, too.
“If you use your daily brain allowance, you are putting yourself at risk of developing symptoms of your illness. If you don’t overdo it and make sure you get a good night’s rest every night, then you are creating a healthy brain. And that, Lacey, empowers you. That is my gift to at this visit.” He smiles and so do I. This is the way I must live my life to be healthy and that’s just what I’ll do.
The wind whips around the unseasonably chilly Saturday afternoon. Devon’s face is hard-pressed as he stands on the sidelines with his hands on his hips waiting anticipating how the play will go. I can’t tell if he’s happy or mad. Baby Lane plays with the grass and picks flowers. Well, really weeds. “Look, sweetie, Evan’s on the field getting ready for the face-off.”
The coach says something and the two boys face each other, crouch down with their sticks ready to win the face-off. I’m so happy that Evan enjoys lacrosse as much as Devon. It’s been wonderful to watch the two as they bond and learn from one another. Devon teaches Evan technical moves, quick foot work, and strategies, while Evan teaches Devon patience. Something Devon didn’t have to deal with too much at the college level. Ten to twelve year old boys playing a sport Devon excelled in can be quite the challenge. I smile and internally laugh at the thought of Devon pacing the field, running his hands through his hair, and sometimes bending over at the waist to get his frustrations under control. Sadly, I find it amusing and like to tease him about it often.
The whistle blows and I scream, “Go Evan! You’ve got this!” I pause and watch in anticipation. My he
art pounding as the two push their sticks against the others, fighting for the ball between them. “Come on, Evan. Get it!” I yell again before clasping my hands together and holding them in front of my mouth. Oh, my God! “Yay!” I clap and scream congratulating Evan on his face-off win. My eyes turn to Devon on the sideline, his are beaming bright, pride emanating from within.
Baby Lane has her headphones in her ears listening to music. Amazingly, it grounds her. The louder the music, the better it is for her sensory-wise. To me it has the opposite effect, but I chalk it up to whatever works.
My fingers run over the blades of grass and I reminisce how thirteen years ago I thought my life was over when I found out I was pregnant. Right now, I can see that was crazy to think. Evan has helped show me the type of person I could and should be. He helped me grow up faster than I needed to, but in some ways, it was for the best. I didn’t need to keep hiding from myself on the dance floor. No, I needed to deal with the demons that haunted me.
We’ve been through so much. I wish a lot hadn’t happened, like my mom committing suicide, Evan being kidnapping, Devon’s crash, and Baby Lane’s disabilities, but I have to think it’s made us stronger. I wish hardships weren’t the wake up call we sometimes need to point our life in a different direction. My life changed when he walked through the hospital door and called out my name. It was my second chance at love. Gosh, how I wish I had bit the bullet and met him that Thursday night at the night club. I wonder how much of my life would be different. I wouldn’t change Evan or Baby Lane for anything. That stupid minivan and hotel experience from hell… yes. But none of the others.
Evan’s patience with his sister is amazing. The other day someone called her retarded and Evan quickly put them in their place. At twelve almost thirteen years, he had become an amazing young man. I’m not sure what the future holds for Baby Lane, but we’ll deal with it.
Lane and I continue to see each other at least once a week. Evan and Alex get along great. Baby Lane and the two of them… not so much. But, that’s okay. Lane continues to teach along with Blake.
Grandma Pain is in Florida right now. In a month, she and Mr. Walker will be heading up to Maine with a stop here of course. Our house will be very alive with her presence. I love it. She can get Evan and Baby Lane riled up and then with a simple yawn, she retires to her room while Devon and I deal with her aftermath. Honestly though, we’ve grown to expect it, and if she didn’t do things like that, we’d be worried.
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes are around a lot. Mrs. Holmes has attended many therapy sessions for Baby Lane when Devon couldn’t be there. She’s accepting in all things with both Evan’s bipolar diagnosis and Baby Lane’s multiple disabilities.
Becca calls me once a week from Colorado. The bitch planned it all along to move in with Ryan. I give her lip any time I can. She’s engaged, which puts the biggest smile on my face. We finally have our brothers. I’m married to one and soon, she’ll be married to the other. We tease each other often about our dreams coming true. Yeah, Becca will forever be my family. With or without marrying Ryan, we’re bonded by everything we’ve gone through. And there isn’t anyone I can think better to go through it with.
~THE END~
“Never discourage anyone who continues to make progress, no matter how slow.”
~Plato
Humidity is high causing sweat to trickle down my back as I stand on the pool deck. The bleachers above are full of onlookers cheering. The crowd is silent as the next swimmers wait for instruction. Devon is in the bleachers with his parents, Lane, Blake, and Alex, and all are gleaming at the little one up next. She stands with one leg on the step below the block relaxed as if she isn’t the youngest –by twelve plus years– to swim a 100-meter Individual Medley Relay. She’s an incredibly talented fish.
The buzzer sounds to tell the swimmers to step up. Standing on the block, she sways a little side to side and waits again for instruction so that she can get in her starting stance. “On your mark.” The officiate pushes through the speaker and all the girls crouch down in their ready spot. Her fingers grab the front of the block to aid in her start. Toes on her left foot rest at the tip of the board while her right bends anxiously waiting the sound of the obnoxious starting horn. Long blonde locks hide behind a red swim cap along with a bungee strap attached to her mirrored goggles. A streamline fitted black performance suit fits her snug removing any possible drag her body may produce in the water.
Eight lanes assigned to a swimmer on each block wait patiently to push off. Standing on the deck, I quickly shift my feet anxiously waiting. The sound echoes throughout the enclosed building. Cheers from the crowd fill the air as splashing presumes in all lanes. First stroke is butterfly. “Come on, Baby Lane!” I cheer. I’m allowed to cheer on my athletes, but I’m not allowed to coach. So silently, with my hands clasped in front of my mouth, I remind her to keep her knees together. “Come on, come on, come… That’s it…. Oh, my God, she’s doing it.” I utter quietly. She nears the wall. “Two-hand touch, baby girl… YES!” I shout the last part. Now onto the backstroke. This one is easy. “Keep your head up and back… Relax your body…” She’s halfway down the lane. “Come on… Don’t turn around yet…” She passes the second set of flags. “Okay, remember to count your strokes, baby girl… And… YAY!!” She did it. She turned with less than a stroke left and was spot on. “Mommy’s so proud of you!” I shout. Devon and everyone chants encouragement.
“Her form is beautiful,” a coach from one of the other counties says next to me. Turning briefly, I smile and thank her. I need to focus.
Nearing the end of this stroke, she must make that two-hand touch or she’ll be disqualified. “You did it!! Go, Baby Lane, go!” I shout, tears running down my cheeks. “It’s the homestretch. You’ve got this, sweetheart!” When her little hand rises out of the water to touch the ledge signifying the end of her race, her fans in the bleachers go wild. I watch Devon’s praise in his words and thumbs up. He turns to me and our eyes lock. A knowing look between us. Baby Lane has overcome so many challenges and continues to take each day and always gives it her all. She truly is a ray of sunlight. My Little Miss Sunshine.
“Mommy, did you see?”
“I did! You were amazing. I’m so proud of you.” I lean down and hug the most beautiful girl in the world. “Mommy will be in to see you get your metal in a minute, okay? Your brother and the boys are up next.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She paddles down the hall following the volunteers escorting them to their next destination.
Turning my attention to the silly boys sitting on the bench next to the pool waiting to be called, I smile. Evan is moving his hands and arms dancing the Macarena and the others are imitating. Evan is a unified partner. He and another non-disabled boy around the same age swim with two athletes to create a competitive team. It’s a great opportunity to have people participate and work with the athletes. Unified Partners can learn so much, gain friendships and self-worth by participating. It’s a beautiful gift to watch the interactions. We’re all equal here. No one is better than the other. We encourage one another and have fun. That makes this one of the best things to be part of.
The silly boys stand and move toward the block. They are swimming a 100 Relay Medley. Each is expected to swim one of the four strokes for 100 meters. That’s down the length of the pool and back. We’ve practiced this event a number of times during practice. I stand on the deck with my heart beaming. This race doesn’t make me nervous like it did Baby Lane. No, this race joins four boys in an allegiance with one goal—to work together.
I glance up at Devon who’s clapping as the race gets ready to begin. This is the last race of the day and there are two teams who could bring home the gold medal. One of them is ours.
Swimmers enter the water and get in their ready position. The order of strokes is different for medley relays. The buzzer sounds and the swimmers push off the wall and begin their backstroke. The teams are equally matched right now. Neck and neck
they return. The next set of athletes dive and bob up and down as they kick their legs out. The breaststroke is actually one of my favorites to swim.
Distance grows. I bite one of my knuckles as the other team takes the lead. “Come on, guys…” I turn my attention to the crowd to gauge Devon’s reaction. He nods knowing it’s okay. We’ll catch up. The other team has another athlete entering the pool to swim butterfly. “Come on, you can do it,” I shout at my athlete coming up to the end of his turn. He touches the wall with two hands… “YES!” I shout louder. My guy’s butterfly stroke is powerful and he’s closing the gap. Coming to the end, Evan gets ready to dive along with the last swimmer on the other team. The other team pushes off first and swims freestyle leaving my guy in the distance. Then Evan dives and swims pulling the water with all his might. I smile watching the beauty of his stroke. My heart swells thinking about the time it took to teach him and Baby Lane how to swim and master their strokes. The other team’s swimmer has flip-turned and is a quarter of his way down the lane when Evan flips, turns, and pushes off the wall. The final lap. “Go, Evan! Pull, pull, pull,” I shout. He’s catching up. It’s close. The other swimmer is almost to the wall when Evan catches up and touches the wall first.
“Woo hoo! You guys rock! Woooo!” The crowd jumps in the air cheering on both teams for doing a great job. See, with Special Olympics it’s nice to bring home the gold medal, but what’s an even bigger prize—is the smile on everyone’s face.
Devon and I smile at one another while we continue to clap for everyone. Our happily ever after may not be something written in a romance novel, but we have so much love for one another. I’ll gladly take the long, challenging road we’ve traveled over an easy one any day. It’s made us, and our family, who we are. I just wish my mom were here to share amazing moments like these.