Do you know what sound your heart makes when it is being
ripped out?
Mine wails.
It’s a guttural sound; primal almost.
Initially disembodied; until eventually you realise that
sound is coming from you.
From me.
I found that out today.
I took Little H for respite today. A daycare session, a chance for us both to
chill out, relax and have a splash in the hydrotherapy pool. I wanted time to read, H I think was looking
forward to being fussed and cuddled and stroked by the nurses.
And that happened.
And it was lovely.
But something else happened too. Something that caught me unaware. Something that punched me full on in the
stomach, winding me, leaving me gasping
for breath. Something that reminded me
that I’m using a “Hospice”.
Many people reading will already know how worried I am about
the future, but for the most part I bury those thoughts, or rather bury my head
in the proverbial sand. When things are
well, I can relatively easily go about my day to day life without thinking
about, or more specifically worrying about, ‘the future’. I look at Little H and I see a smiley
beautiful happy little boy and I know
the doctors, consultants, specialists ... they are all WRONG!
Mostly, that works for me.
That’s how I get through day to day.
I’m not a martyr. I’m not
amazing. I’m not strong. I’m a mum.
That’s it. And a lot of the time
I am in denial.
And sometimes, every so often, I am caught unawares, and
reality likes to give me a cold, hard, slap around the face.
Like the time our Paediatrician took us to a separate room
to ‘talk’ while H was in HDU and explained how serious his type of epilepsy
was.
Like the time I had to resuscitate H on the side of a dual
carriageway.
Like the time I read a form in his files (serves me bloody
right) that said, clearly printed in black and white: LIFE LIMITED AND LIFE
THREATENED.
Like today.
When I sat eating dinner next to a lady planning her son’s
funeral.
This post is written as part of the #definenormal blogging challenge courtesy of the lovely RenataBplus3 from Just bring the chocolate.
Why not join in? Define your 'normal' and get a fancy badge, like the one on the right, to add to your blog.
Don't forget to check out the other #definenormal posts too.
10 comments:
Sometimes, a comment on a post is not enough... sometimes, despite understanding entirely what is written and feeling it deep inside you, you can't find the right words x
big hugs x
No words. This post just put my big moany one in perspective xxx
Thanks Katie, cjc and blue sky for reading and commenting. I do appreciate it. Your virtual hugs and knowing you are thinking of us and that you understand helps. X x
Get that 'when it hits you' feeling but 'life limited' & 'hospice' are in a whole different arena. A virtual hug from me too - for what it's worth xx
My stomach knotted when reading your blog. Not usual for me to be lost for words. Read your blogs and often think about how you are. Take care xx
First blog of yours I've read. There are no words. Sending you a virtual hug around you and your boys whether you want it or not.
Lost for words (((hugs)))
oh my, I dont know what words to say but sending love
Jane, Nanny Anne, Niamney B, Sally and Jane (@northern Mum)I really do appreciate your kind wishes and virtual hugs. You can never have too many hugs xxxxx
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