With the one kid in the hospital for a 3rd week having set backs, I’ve been forced to provide more for our kids than normal. They of course feel the pressure of having a little girl in our care in the hospital. To their credit it means far more than mom is in the hospital with her instead of at home. They ask every night if she is coming home tomorrow. They worry for her which shows in more extreme loss of personal controls. There has a been a teary moment every night for a week, but it’s been needed as the only way to stop the hyper activity. My voice is very soft by the time the last goes to bed. I just have nothing left…and then I get up and go to work for the few hours I can. I am treading water here.
I have let more things slip by me this week than I care to think about. I sit here writing this stream of consciousness in part to vent because I know I have to let some out and relax before O has surgery next week to remove his tonsils. I know I have to be stronger because next week will be harder…which means even more pressure to live and do NOW. Heck, even checking on rates to Disney World at the end of the month for us and the kids is hard (and for this all I am doing is trying to beat an already acceptable deal). The knowledge most people would kill to have this particular stress doesn’t help one bit.
There are days I just want the world to shut up for a minute and let me catch my breath. Though maybe this is like treading water in the ocean hoping for the waves to stop. I know the key is to just float and kick…I’m just having trouble finding the relax button on my personal remote to allow me to stop trying so hard to tread water and swim. Just float…And then
Our fight last night was the first time I have ever felt why dogs wander away from their pack to die. It was the first time I ever considered leaving because of my MS, and I’m still not sure I won’t when it gets to the point where my care prevents other kids from having needed care. Why should my well being be worth the well being of multiple children? No, I am not talking suicide, just hermitage. At least then the world would shut up.
Still, as with most things, time heals. It’s a new day, and a day without heartburn, so I am left with the attitude of a sport player, “Bring it on. Let’s go.” Have I mentioned I don’t float yet? My legs, long accustomed to running and kicking, sink with inactivity.