I’ve been sitting in a new emotional area lately. It’s called “anxiety.” Also “worry.” Not totally unknown territory, but not areas that I usually hang out in for very long, or with much intensity. I’m usually more firmly planted in “I’m sure it will be fine” sort of land. Sort of waving off concerns because of a combination of things usually working out well enough, and a strong shot of optimism/denial.
Baby just fell down the stairs? Well, they were carpeted, and the older two fell down uncarpeted stairs and were fine, soooo….
Child doesn’t want to go to children’s church? Meh. Ten bucks says he stops crying within 5 minutes. He’ll be fine.
Not sure what to do about preschool/kindergarten/homeschooling? I’m tired of thinking about it. She’s 3/4/5. I’ll just pick one. She’ll be fine.
Last week it dawned on me that surgery is approaching- fast- and my kids aren’t totally healthy. We saw our pediatrician for the pre-op physical, and Monkey had a few really low, hacking coughs during the appointment. Our doctor let me know that they would not put him under and move forward with surgery if he were still coughing like that at the time of surgery. Then I talked to my sister-in-law, who let me know that there is some upper respiratory thing floating around her area, and it is lingering for a good 2-3 weeks. I wasn’t even thinking about that when we all got together a couple of weeks ago for some family pictures. It wasn’t on my radar to start quarantining and being a germ nazi a full month before surgery. Darn.
Throw in a round of the stomach bug and we’re up to date on the family health issues. All in the past week.
All of this has me anxious and worried. The idea of postponing the surgery because of a cough that won’t go away is just terrible. Horrible. Rescheduling for- what- January? Another month from now, and even further into flu and cold season? The very idea is the pits.
Here’s the upside: the cough has gone away. I’ve been pumping the kids daily with a combo of elderberry, apple cider vinegar, and honey. I’ve decreased their sugar and been more strict on rest and sleep. I carry hand sanitizer! (Haven’t done that since Chicken was a newborn, and eventually I just threw the mostly-full bottle away. Germs are a poor-mans’ vaccine, right?) All this while willing them to be healthy! Be well! And I think it has paid off.
So now we’re staring down the barrel of brain surgery. And I am doing all I can, but realizing- oh shit, for lack of a better term- that I can only do so much. I can’t make him well enough. I can’t see every germ and Lysol it away. I can’t make surgery go off without a hitch. I have done my best, and I have to hold the outcome with an open hand.
I’m hoping, praying, believing that this time next week will feel very different. That there will be a little more wiggle room as we recover, rather than this whole hold-our-breath-and-wait thing. (I’m not pretending that recovery is a walk in the park, but at least then we’re doing something different. I’m ready for something different.)