Gone Daddy Gone

Spring Break approaches in a matter of hours!  Although I feel like James has JUST gotten back into the swing of school and therapy after a winter of viruses, I am looking forward to this holiday as if he had a perfect attendance record.  I know it would be great for James to stay here and try to fit in as many make-up therapy sessions as possible.  I just can't.  Mom needs to get away and I am indulging her.  Away from driving, away from schedules, away from concrete.  I need sky and surf and sand - and a lot of it!

My main concern in life is James.  I care only if and how he eats, drinks, and sleeps. My job is to get him to and from school and therapy, monitor his progress, and then to keep him on his toes at home.  I am so wrapped up in him that I forget myself.  I am not saying I am "selfless."  It seems more physical than that.  Like how I cut his nails and then forget to cut my own because, in my head, I just did that.  It's insane and bizarre to not even think of looking at myself in the mirror before I head out the door. I rarely remember to have a drink. These are not conscience choices, but still, my behavior has to stop.

Five years ago, I had a cerebral stroke and wound up in the ICU for two weeks then the hospital until I could have a heart operation.  Two days immediately before, a pediatric neurologist told us that we should look into a long term care facility for our less-than two year old son.  For the previous six months, I had been jumping up and down trying to get medical attention for what I saw was happening to James.  And now instantly, I went from being an over-protective, over-anxious mom to this?  James was even sitting in his stroller "reading" a book at this point, not even exhibiting the behaviors that I had been listing.  Overnight, James had gone from being a happy toddler to a fearful one who would not venture out of his stroller, let alone out the door of the house.  His words disappeared.  His only interest was to wave a stick back and forth in front of his face.  He was lost and we could not reach him.  So, day after day, little by little, I took him out the door, then down the stairs, then around the block, then to the store, then through the park, and eventually - and successfully - the playground.  At home, I turned to the television.  I knew every Wiggles song and dance.  I "enjoyed" it so much that finally James got up too.  I forgot to eat and drink.  I did not sleep much (and neither did James).  But it didn't matter because, slowly we were getting him back.  After a special visit from my dear friend who worked (and still does) with autistic children, who gave me a crash course on the terminology, we got immediate attention from the doctors. One who suggested James should be "institutionalized."  BOOM, clot blew through a hole in my heart (surprise unknown birth defect!) and into my brain.

So, now, after surviving, you think I would know better?  Take care of myself?  Eat, drink, go to the doctor?  Nope, nope, and nope.  I had a migraine, first in over five years.  My cardiologist believed I would no longer suffer from them after he repaired my heart.  As the years went by, I became a believer.   Last week, I woke up with one, and was terrified.  David pushed his day aside and took care of James  AND made a mad dash to the gallery and back.   He also, understanding my fear of doctors (terror actually), stepped in and made a doctor's appointment for me and then took me there.  Now I've started on my rounds of routine and special tests and visits.   I also am making an effort to take care of myself.  Drink the seltzer down before the bubbles go away.  Shower, wash face, brush teeth, comb hair.  Take vitamins.  All the things I do for James, do for myself.

I know this might sound ridiculous to someone who is not in this position. How could you not drink when you are thirsty?  My concerns are so pushed down that I don't even notice.  I think it is tied to my concerns about mortality.  At first I didn't believe this could be true.  With my stroke, I faced my demise big time.  I am fully aware that death can come to anyone, at any age, at any time.  On paper, I am prepared to die.  We have made special legal arrangements for James.  But in reality?  No one will be able to give James the happy, active, loving life that he has now.  I want him to continue to grow and flourish and I have to be there for that.  Did I think that if I ignored my health, I was ignoring the fact that I am going to die and leave James alone?  I trust God for everything, but my ability to do this is not admirable.  I have no choice.  SO . . . I have to give this up too.  I can't control what will happen.  BUT I sure can get to the doctor and take care of myself on a daily basis, so I will be healthier AND happier for longer, for James, for myself, and for my poor neglected husband!