I have no idea what was running though Langston’s mind. It being close to an hour and a half past his bed time, I did not ask. In general though, I try not to read my own anxieties into his experiences. How does an almost 10 year old brain process this stuff? That will most likely be between him and his future therapist.
After I got Art (and Langston) settled and back to bed, my stomach felt like it’s being unpleasantly tickled. It’s dense and disheartened. The desire to leave my skin and thus this fear that rises every time Art suffers acute symptoms like vomiting is undeniable. I envision myself, in the grief, ripping off my clothes, pulling out clumps of my hair and mauling my face with my own hands. The energy from the thought makes my fingers tingle in anticipation of the release. Watching Art get sick, not knowing whether or not to panic is unavoidable. But the process of ticking off the items on the "YES Panic" or "NO Don't Panic" lists leave me feeling like I have been on a rollercoaster ride I did not intend to go on. Has it really only been 3 minutes of heaving or was it 4? Does he look like he’s gonna pass out? When was the last time he took a breath? Can you die from dry heaving? What if he inhales some the stuff into his chest? What will the treatment center tell me if I call? Will I have to call a neighbor to stay with the kids so I can bring him in?
I dry heave too.