Excerpt from my upcoming book-Defeating Goliath

This is an excerpt from my upcoming book, based on my own experience, it is nearly ready for editing. Please, read and enjoy, it will be available soon!


Defeating Goliath
Spring 2011
　
The words she spoke changed everything.
"He needs a Level Four Hospital with residential epilepsy care, sooner is better."
I think back to the words spoken just a few short days ago.
Hey…Wait…Hold-on, my Dad is declining daily, my oldest son has decided to get married, my youngest son, just wants to do something, and I have urgent work awaiting my attention. I called hoping to secure some help.
Damn-it, did I hear 'he needs?' What did she mean? I'm his Mother. Residential? Is that like the programs featured in Newsweek a couple of years ago? Maybe, it's similar to the facility David Axelrod placed his daughter in when he left Chicago for Washington D.C.
The best facility for my son is 1000 miles away.
Every hour the words pound through my head like the bong of a clock; needs, residential, care.
Haven't I stood for twenty years holding this damn slingshot? Now, someone, please, tell me, which stone kills Goliath. I promised my son I would kill Goliath. It's the battle that really mattered.
I feel the sword deeper and deeper puncturing my heart and the tourniquet tightening in my gut is becoming unbearable. It hurts so much. Why is it so casual to everyone else?
This is too real, okay, so I suspected it eighteen months ago when Goliath emerged on steroids. Yes, it entered my mind, hell, I could even talk about it, at times, but no one else was allowed.
I raise my hands to the Heavens and beg, "Please, don't let him think I don't want to be his Mother anymore."


Chapter 1 Spring 1991 　　Defeat is difficult to recognize, and even harder to accept.
Once more, my head sinks into the cushion of the chair. I allow myself to drift away, back into the past. This time, I visit in search of the definition. I focus my contemplation, because, now, I must know whether David and I have won or lost our battle. Have we defeated Goliath's epilepsy or has the Giant defeated us?
My mind, drunk with pain, wanders back to the first day. Twenty years ago, I was twenty-eight, and the March day was cool and windy. I opened the front door of the newly decorated house, I adored, and there he was in the arms of a smiling social worker.
At thirteen-months-old, he was the most amazing child I had ever seen…