I just put Jeff on a plane bound for Madison, Wisconsin, and the University there, where a man named Yuri Danilov is conducting clinical research into brain plasticity. The hope is that his treatment, which uses the tongue to conduct messages to damaged brains, will help Jeff's unrelenting vertigo lessen or even disappear. And since migraines and vertigo may be linked, there is some small hope that his migraines might also lessen.
I have been working overtime not to kindle much hope for this treatment because I do not know how to bear the disappointment of him coming home no better off, with no hope for recovery other than time, which I can tell you is anything but sweet.
But in the last few days I have found myself feeling cautiously optimistic; I've even let myself imagine once or twice what it might be like to get That Call from him, That Call where he says, "I'm not dizzy! For the first time in two and a half years, I am awake and I don't feel like my head is spinning."
Then I have to stop imagining this magic moment because otherwise I cry too hard.
So for now I shall return to not thinking about it too much. Instead, I will think about the copious amounts of bourbon I plan to drink this weekend in Santa Cruz with my girlfriends, and about the beach, and about not having to wake up at 5 a.m. to get on email for work.
Yay! Happy thoughts!