At home from the hospital now, a new ritual. Anxiety has increased for Wynn. And why shouldn’t it? If I’d been taken from home in an ambulance at age 11, strapped to a board in the back, driven 3 hours to Providence, admitted to a strange hospital at 1 am, lived there 3 months alongside severe kids with propensity for head smashing, transferred to another hospital in Portland, lived THERE for a year with constant staff changes… I’d be anxious too.

Now he’s home and the anxiety starts early in the day when he wakes up. “will I live here forever?”
“Yes you will. “
“ I hated the hospital. Why was I there? I don’t want to leave! You left me! Am I home forever?”
“Yes you are.”
“Is this my home?”
Yes it is your home”…. and on the conversation goes.

So at night, he has a new routine. Say goodbye to the kitchen, the living room and walk to the stairs. Turn around and walk back and forth a couple times on tip toes. If someone says something that interrupts the process, he must go back and start again and again. Then up the stairs all the while asking “can I eat food ever again? Why do I have to go to bed (proper answer – you don’t have to go to bed. Control must be in his hands) In the room, arrange the bed. Make sure the sheets are on tight and his favorite blue blanket is on. If not, back downstairs, but now in a very agitated mood. Where’s my blue blanket, I WANT MY BLUE BLANKET, MOM! Back to the kitchen, good-bye kitchen…

And after he’s finally in bed, sweet dreams? To which you must respond sweet dreams. Good night? The answer again is good night. If you forget and say good night Wynn, that isn’t good. He may come out of the room and if he does you risk needing to run through the cycle again. With much practice, we simply respond exactly as we know he wants. Not too much volume, not too quiet. The fan for the fireplace stove in the basement must be lowered as well to hear, as this will go on for some time. Sweet dreams? Sweet dreams. Good night? Good night. Am I here forever? You are here forever. Am I a cartoon? No, you are real. Sweet dreams? Sweet dreams. Good night? Good night? GOOD NIGHT? Oh uh, good night. Why didn’t you answer? Sorry… didn’t hear you. Good night Wynn. Sweet dreams? Sweet dreams… we’ve counted over 40 sweet dreams on some nights – all that must be answered in a timely fashion. We’ve tried not answering, saying this is the last time (with the resulting jumping out of bed).

Last night, it started after he woke up from bedwetting, his other new post hospital habit. It is 1:10 and he’s just been changed with new sheets on the bed. Sweet dreams… and oh how does the fear start. Are we up all night sing-songing sweet dreams, good night until the morning? And just as I begin to really worry, I hear a soft voice call out after the last good night. “I love you dad and all is well.”