A Quiet Victory

I can't say with any degree of confidence that I am a skilled fighter.  In fact, I'm quite certain we didn't land three GI appointments because of all my ranting and raving at whoever would listen last week.  I'm going to humbly accept the 'win' and we will show up.  I have already threatened my kids if they plan anything else on the days we are to visit with our new Gastroenterologist. 

This is me waiting for the GI department to get their act together.

Our visits won't be until October and will be spread out over two weeks but we will make do.  I'm so relieved that after two years of arguing and standing my ground with the department manager, networking the best I could with our other docs, and watching both the boys continue their weightloss and uncomfortable GI problems, we are getting somewhere. 

Two weeks ago, when we were in Salt Lake, while sitting in the lab, Sam asked why I stopped caring. It's hard to care more than anyone else.  It's hard to care when no one else does.  It's hard to see the struggles and dashed hopes and sick days and find a spark to keep going. 

I'm trying to find ways to get back on track emotionally and back in the game mentally.  27 years of this and I'm finally feeling burned out, holding on to this glass of water I keep trying to convince the world, and myself is half full.  In moments, like Sunday morning at 1:00 AM when we finally have a moment to sit down together, we stop the steam rolling and admit defeat, but just for a minute or two.  We relish in the rest that comes from being honest.  We feel the weight of all that is expected and even set it down for a moment.  But, just a moment.  We say goodnight and for a few hours, we leave it alone until the Sun of Sunday morning comes along, and we armor back up and move on, as if it never happened.

Coping takes a toll


Post a Comment

Popular Posts