I don't really focus on training myself very much anymore. I feel like I've already accomplished the most important things I've set out to accomplish in my life. Now I'm focusing on him. Help him reach his goals as much as I'm able.
Today he's showing off some new technique he read about in a faded old fitness magazine I found while at work. It belonged to one of my former coworkers. (Jerry stopped coming to work. I'm pretty sure it's because he's went through the same type of mental decline that Lan is going through currently.) It must have been something he managed to save from before The Disaster. I don't think he would mind me having it. He didn't have any family.
Just as Jay shows me the new kick, we hear a pained and panicked sounded shout from below. Jay and I exchange a quick look, then race into action.
Lan must have woken up while we were up here. Please, Watcher, let him be okay. My mind is conjuring up dozens of terrible scenarios that might be responsible for Lan's cry.
When Jay and I get down stairs, Lan is no where in sight. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no no no! I'm trying hard not to panic.
Then Jay says, "Do you smell smoke?" And I realize where Lan must be.
"Jay grab a fire extinguisher. Quickly!" I say with one of our two extinguishers already in my hands. And I race outside.
Iolani is just where I feared. At the grill with flames licking at him, already spreading over a large portion of his clothes.
Working together, it doesn't take Jay and I long to get the fire under control.
* * *
It's during the clean up process and while I'm doctoring up Lan -- who is relatively unscathed, as miraculous as that may sound -- that some serious implications of this event start to sink in.
Not only did we have a close call today, that much is obvious. We could have lost Lan, we almost did. But this is a rough day not just because of the flood of emotions caused by the nearly deadly incident. It's a rough one also because now we're short on rations.
When I finish chewing, I tell my son, "I'll talk to him." Knowing that we're both thinking similar thoughts in this moment.
I try to make my voice light, hoping that I can get my message across without sounding to harsh. Maybe if I start the conversation with a joking tone, he won't feel as bad about what happened. "So... grills can be pretty tricky, can't they?" and I try to laugh.
"What do you mean?" He asks.
I sigh internally while trying to keep my expression the same. If he's having an episode, this conversation will not do any good. I'll just have to try to snap him out it. Usually simple reminders help him clear the mental fog, so I try that. "Iolani, can you remember what happened when you tried to cook today's rations?"
"Lan, baby, don't you remember the fire?" But no matter what I say I can't make him remember. I try for quite some time. Eventually I realize that he's not having one of his typical episodes. He seems perfectly aware of where he is and when it is. But he has no memory of what happened just a couple of hours ago.
This must be a progression of his disease or condition or whatever it is.
We're going to have to make some changes around here. . .