Bad Scans

Killian was in an MRI machine for 3 hours Thursday night. We decided that was a record length for scans. He says he made a video game in his head. Each video game was improvised and each was different, timed to the loud clicks and beeps of the MRI taking pictures. The cycle of each image being captured went longer than his made-up video games though. "I got bored with each game before the imaging was done.” I found out about his mind games because I asked him “how do you get through this shit?”

I certainly thought it stunk that Killian was in an MRI for 3 solid hours that night….the results of the scan stunk of black soul id garbage. We asked Killian what he wanted to know. He asked about the arm (“it’s disease, in the bone”) and the head (“yes, there are spots on your scalp”), but that’s all he wanted to hear. He hit some things and raged at the unfairness. Then, he said “stressing out is not helping,” cursed some more and then took some Atavan. Then Phil, Killian and I picked up ukuleles and played Tonight You Belong To Me. Killian nailed the harmony. I love his voice. I told Cally as soon as she got home from school. I asked if she had any questions or wanted to talk. She said, “I just want to be with my brother, then go to Dusty’s pond for a swim.” It's 85 degrees today. Killian wanted, more than anything, to eat the hushpuppies from the fish farm near Jump-Jump’s in North Carolina. They were the best he’d ever had, he said. Difficult request to fulfill, given we’re in the Catskills. Instead, we will meet Jim and Sharon for inferior Yankee hushpuppies at Hickory Barbeque. We are celebrating Mandy and Derrick’s engagement, a small miracle for which Killian feels he was pivotal. He’s not wrong. It’s all connected.