Though I have been reflecting on the past and recalling tender memories in an effort to shine a positive light on the future, today I awoke to the words I fear hearing every single morning. Today, it is as if I am punched in the stomach with the present.
“MOMMY!” I hear from my room. The pain that accompanies that call from my daughter’s bedroom is one that means only one thing. If she is calling for me, she can not get up out of her bed. The intensity of that moment, of that agony, is indescribable. If that is how I feel simply hearing her moan, how awful must she feel? It is a thought that keeps me awake at night and keeps me dizzy today. Though, I can not waver. I must be resolute in appearance and emotion to her. I must not let her see me cry. The sight of my tears only makes her feel worse. Given the distress clearly spread within her tiny legs, the last thing I want to do is cause one more drop of pain.
I sneak upstairs to find solace and a keyboard instead. Containing the water works all morning lets them fall freely along with my worries and my fears. I am numb.
My mind drifts and my heart aches. A much anticipated family weekend on the beach made it impossible for Kelsey to get out of bed this morning. The thought is overwhelming. Fun caused tremendous pain. Although I should not place guilt on myself, I ponder my own actions and what I could have done differently. Did I make her walk too much? What did I not notice? How are we back here again?
With two days to go before her medicine is due, all I can do is wait. Life is on pause as I wait for this to pass and a call from the doctor. I am hoping to soon gather a better sense of how to notice a flare, plan for a flare, and reverse the effects of this one today.
So for today, as I sit, I realize that I am stuck in the waiting place. As Dr. Seuss tells us:
“when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance
you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road, between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.
But on you will go though the weather be foul.
On you will go though your enemies prowl.
On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.”
As I sit waiting for the phone to ring or a smile to shine on my daughter’s anguished face, I find that the waiting place is a truly useless space. Instead of preparing for her first Hip-Hop dance class this afternoon, the one she pulled clips from YouTube to practice before the classes even started, the one that she has been excited about for weeks now, we just wait.
While it is her legs rather than her arms, it is still a frightening creek. I often wish I had a larger paddle to navigate through such troubled waters and pick me up from today’s TKO.