"Usually," the boy says, "they bring me something to help. But sometimes, if I get too calm, they won't get the results they want. So they leave me like this. They know I won't be able to hold it off forever."

None of that is precisely an answer, though the boy seems to think it might be. Everything's out of focus for him, cognitively. He's tipping to one side and hasn't noticed yet, despite the increasing likelihood he's going to topple off the edge of the bed.