So I had family over last night to celebrate a birthday. As we were eating my step mom said “You really should consider being a writer.” As far as I’m concerned that statement came out of no where. I was enjoying my pork chop thinking about how my son probably put his ham in the vas next to the table. It’s hard for me to accept compliments. I don’t know if I even said thank you. I immediately lowered my head and talked about why I haven’t been writing. Well folks, the bottom line is I haven’t really wanted to write about my life. I think I’ve gone and picked the wrong thing to talk about. Crap.
Actually there is more to it than that. I have doubt. I don’t want to face some of the things we’ve gone through. I’m not sure I want to air out our beeswax. I’m not sure if I can spin it into humor. And if I’m going to write chronologically, what happens next is our oldest becoming very, very ill. Maybe I’ll just speed on though it (and some other shitty happenings) to current events… Sound good? No? Ok fiiine.
I’ve gotten closer to God in the past two years. You’ll figure out why once I get there. I’ve noticed I’m picking up on things – signs or messages if I must. Maybe what my step mom said last night and what others have said in the past is someone poking me in the shoulder saying “pull yourself together Jen and write this shit down!” He probably wouldn’t swear but the FS&HG are probably getting pretty annoyed with me by now.
So while I’m at it why don’t I just start.
B had just turned one. He just started daycare. He just started having ear infections. Then he had a fever and diaper rash that wouldn’t go away. I’ve tried to map this all out to figure out what happened exactly but still there are only theories. Inconclusiveness from a variety of physicians with different opinions. One doctor had the perfect explanation right up front that I still hold on to. It was a “perfect storm of bad luck.”
One night I was settling into bed, hoping the fever would stop with both of us giving B around the clock medication regiment. Nope. The tele nurse told us to get him to the hospital. Off we went to the emergency room. Talk about scary. Talk about feeling helpless. I still replay that night in my head clear as day. Thinking we and they could have, should have done things differently. Better.
After what seemed like way too long we were transferred to the children’s hospital early in the morning. In retrospect I can see the fear on the nurses faces when we were in the room. I asked “how long will he have to be here?” “But he IS going to be ok?” My brain has a way of ‘not going there’ in the worst of situations to save itself I guess but freaking the f out when everything is fine. It didn’t feel real. MY child cannot be THIS sick.
And then we tried to sleep for a couple hours until he went to the PICU.
To be continued.
He makes it guys so everybody can take a breath.
Jen
lattes liquor and lettuce 