He was born with a death sentence.
The doctors spoke gently as she wept.
She was overcome by the diagnosis of hydrocephalus.
She carried him for 9 months. He couldn’t have a disability.
How could she create a defective child?
They told her to institutionalize him.
You won’t be able to manage his condition.
She refused. He’s my son. I’ll always love and care for him.
He is 59 now. Sits on the floor staring at the wall – any wall.
He just stares and holds his little jar of batteries he calls his friends.
A boy in an adult body.
2016©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above
***** My brother was born with this illness. Although his jar wasn’t filled with batteries, the photo immediately brought him to mind.
***** Hydrocephalus (from Greek hydro-, meaning “water”, and kephalos, meaning “head”) is a rare medical condition in which there is an abnormal accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) in the brain. This causes increased intracranial pressure inside the skull and may cause progressive enlargement of the head if it occurs in childhood, potentially causing convulsion, tunnel vision, and mental disability. It was once informally called “Water on the brain.” information from wikipedia
Inside the Mind of Isadora 
March 16, 2016 at 12:30 pm
beautifully told
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March 16, 2016 at 1:14 pm
Thank you … I appreciate the very nice comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 8, 2016 at 8:58 pm
This is so well told, and yet he lives and find his own joy… the doom over a life is always premature… a wonderful and tragic story.
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March 9, 2016 at 12:49 am
He was a prisoner of his disease … and … the misunderstanding of my parents.
Their denial helped him create his own world. The ignorance of those whose minds were rigid.
I appreciate your encouraging word, Bjorn. Always a master of expressing how you feel about
the writings of others. Thnak You …
Isadora 😎
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March 8, 2016 at 2:15 pm
Sad story, Isadora. Thank goodness if caught in time that condition can now be managed by doctors inserting a tube to aid in the drainage of the liquid. It has to be replaced every so often as the child grows. Many children didn’t survive it at one time. We had a friend who’s son grew up with those tubes and was just fine. Well done. —– Suzanne
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March 8, 2016 at 8:48 pm
Well, I wrote a commentthis morning but don’t know where it went. : 0
I’m pleased medical research has found ways to help this illness. I appreciate your writing about the information.
It was difficult, for me, as a child to hear and see some of the behaviors he had.
Thank you for stopping by, Patricia, and leaving your wonderful comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 7, 2016 at 2:23 pm
Thanks for sharing your story.
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March 8, 2016 at 7:39 pm
You’re very welcome. I enjoyed writing the story. Thank you … 😎
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March 6, 2016 at 10:01 pm
This is so sad, and beautifully told. I’m so sorry that your family had to go through such hard times.
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March 8, 2016 at 7:37 pm
I imagine every family has an issue they have to deal with at some time or another.
But, for a child, it can be a bit overwhelming. I’m happy you found the story to be beautifully told, Gahleaner.
Thank you,
Isadora 😎
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March 6, 2016 at 2:47 pm
Wow. I have a friend who has an adult daughter like this. They have cared for her at home, but worried about her future when they pass away. Thank you for sharing such a personal story.
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March 6, 2016 at 5:56 pm
Yes, it’s a difficult life for the caretakers. My brother lived at home until my parents death. They never made arrangements for him.
He wound up living on the street until I found out and found him an institution. I plan to write about the heartache of his handicapped
life in a memoir I’ve been writing for too many years.
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March 6, 2016 at 11:48 am
Querida Isadora,
I am merely echoing comments at this point. Very touching story, and even more so because of the truth of it. You wrote it well, no doubt because it’s heartfelt.
Abrazos y shalom,
Rochelle
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March 6, 2016 at 5:47 pm
Querida Rochelle,
All comments even repetitive ones are always loved and appreciated. This started out as fiction
but my mind kept going back to my brother. His imaginary friends fit in well with the photo prompt.
Thank you for your kind sentiments and for allowing me to take license with your fiction challenge.
Con carino,
Isadora 😎
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March 6, 2016 at 11:35 am
So very sad Isadora, and beautifully told with the insight of one who’s been there and experienced it. They say “write about what you know” and you have done. With style and sensitivity.
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March 6, 2016 at 5:53 pm
Sandra,
Your kind words soothe the spots that ached as I wrote this story. Perhaps, it’s best that it did write it.
One never really heals from the remembrances of a childhood that wasn’t understood and questions
that can never be answered.
Thank you for your lovely comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 6, 2016 at 12:52 am
Touching, made more so by your relationship.
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March 6, 2016 at 5:48 pm
At times, the heart aches in ways no one knows.
Thank you …
Isadora 😎
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March 5, 2016 at 7:59 pm
Powerful story, Isadora. We have something in common. My sister was born with this as well, but she was functional. She was delayed, however, and has always lived with family. She didn’t speak until she was two, for example. In fact, some may think she’s quite functional, but she really isn’t. I hope your brother is doing well in the institution. I’m sure it isn’t easy having a family member with this condition.
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March 6, 2016 at 6:53 pm
My brother developed until the age of 12 mentally. He spoke with a lisp so very few could understand him. He had many, many health issues including eyesight so poor that he was almost blind. He looked like he was okay until he would speak or walk or try to learn.
Sadly, my Mother and Father both refused to believe he was handicapped. They died and he was then put in the institution. He didn’t understand why.
He fell into extreme depression and has barely come out of it.
Thank you for your kind words and for sharing your similar experience, Amy. At times, the heart aches in ways no one can know.
Blessings to you …
Isadora 😎
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March 5, 2016 at 11:02 am
Nicely told, Isadora.
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March 5, 2016 at 2:01 pm
Thank you, Tom. It’s difficult to create a complete story in 100 words but that’s the challenge.
I’m pleased you thought I told it well. Have a good weekend.
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 9:56 pm
The human lot is not always good, when illness calls true friends are needed. Thank you for sharing
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March 5, 2016 at 3:24 am
It’s a bit like automobiles. Once in awhile there may be a lemon amongst them.
Although, humans aren’t created the same way. Although, a faulty issue might cause a glitch.
Yes, friends may have helped assuage the pain but none were there.
I appreciate your visit and sensitive comment. Thank You …
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 2:15 pm
Beautifully sad and wonderful story. So real for so many.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:33 am
I appreciate your stellar comment. Thank you ….
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 1:41 pm
I understand. I, too, have a brother with a disability. Fortunately, he is doing well, but, yeah. I understand. Nice writing, Isadora.
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March 5, 2016 at 4:02 am
A handicapped memnber of a family can be a tremendous burden for the family especially if one parent believes the child is well.
Thank you for stopping by and leaving your very kind comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 5, 2016 at 4:38 am
You are MOST welcome! 🙂
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March 4, 2016 at 8:55 am
Oh Isadora. This is so beautifully told. I’ve learned something. Thanks for sharing.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:40 am
I’m thrilled you found my write this week to be beautifully told.
I always appreciate your comments and visits. A happy moment for me.
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 6:49 am
I knew there had to be a personal element as I read, I’m sorry for your brother Issy, some people seem to get more than their share of pain.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:42 am
Ah yes, Gilly. Our home was a haven of gloom and suffering. My mother fell deep into a depressive
state never to be a mother again. This is part of my memoir. Thank you for being a part of the journey.
Issy 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 2:59 am
This is sad but On the other hand, we can’t see into the the thoughts of this man with thoughts like a child. Perhaps, he is very happy in his home with his Mom. But I wonder what he’ll do when his mom passes on 😦
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March 5, 2016 at 3:59 am
Oh … the questions are answered enventually, dear Mandi. This is part of the memoir I’m writing that
stagnants each time a sorrowful incident is brought to the surface. Some of our life’s paths are paved in rumbles of stones.
Thank you for your sensitive comment and for your visit.
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 2:49 am
This is a deeply moving and heart-breaking story, Isadora. I am so sorry! It must hurt your every day to contemplate this tragedy. And as for your mother, I cannot imagine what she carried inside her for all those years.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:55 am
The stories are many. It’s all part of the memoir that is being written but never finished.
The tragedy and the pain keeps me form its completion. I appreaciate your insightfulness.
Thank you for visiting and leaving your masterful comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 4, 2016 at 12:50 am
Tragic and powerful. I quite wondering how you would work in the jar … and pow … you did it well.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:52 am
Dear aFrank,
Love, Love, Love your comment. It makes writing this tragic story worth it.
These prompts can make a mind twist and turn. In this case, it found its way
to the heart box with this painful story. I always appreciate the stellar comments
you leave and your visits to my humble blog home.
Isadora 😎
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March 3, 2016 at 11:19 pm
A tragic story, all the more poignant because of the information in your footnote. Beautifully told.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:48 am
I wasn’t sure if people were familiar with the illness. I’m pleased you enjoyed my story enough to leave a lovely comment.
Thank you …
Isadora 😎
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March 3, 2016 at 11:12 pm
Such a moving poem, Isadora…
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March 5, 2016 at 3:46 am
Gracias, Marina. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Have a wonderul weekend. ❤️
Isadora 😎
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March 3, 2016 at 10:22 pm
This is sad, Isadora. I’m sorry to hear about your brother. Your story is wonderful and helped educate us on this condition.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:45 am
It’s a rare condition. Perhaps, modern medicine has found ways to decrease this from happening. This happened in the late 50’s.
It was a difficult issue in our household. This is actually a part of the memoir I am writing.
Thank you PJ for your kind comment.
Isadora 😎
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March 5, 2016 at 4:08 am
Was he able to live a long life or was his life cut short?
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March 5, 2016 at 2:02 pm
He’s 59 now. He lives in an insitution he was placed in after my mothers death.
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March 5, 2016 at 2:50 pm
Oh, bless his heart. I’m sure he is happy there.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:07 pm
I want to let you know that I really did mean that and didn’t say it to be derogatory. Institutions are much different today than they use to be. They do a lot of things to stimulate and improve their clients well being.
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March 5, 2016 at 3:50 pm
Dearest PJ,
No worries about your other comment. I’m pressed for time today and wasn’t able to write more.
Yes, institutions are quite good. They have a prupose for circumstances such as his condition.
My future intent is to include in much more detail how his condition effected our family unit
in my memoir if I ever get it finished. It’s also emotionally draining when I have to go back
into my heart box of sad experiences.
I would never take offense of any comment left for me. I believe I learn everyday more and more
through the kind words people leave here for me. You are my greatest supporter. For that, I THANK YOU.
Blessings to you,
Isadora 😎
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March 5, 2016 at 4:20 pm
Thank you, Isadora. 🙂
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March 5, 2016 at 4:21 pm
😍
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