These days, I have to rely heavily on nutritional drinks and baby food. The nausea, the cough and the shortness of breath makes most things hard to swallow. The other day, as I was struggling with another bite of the baby food, I broke down and cried in front of my parents.
I don’t know what triggered this emotional response. Maybe for the first time, I actually felt useless. When side effects like these had come on before, the physical struggle was comparable, but they always felt like temporary symptoms, before things start feeling better. But after a few relapses and things looking bleaker now, what I think about is, what if I only get sicker down the road. How much strength can I summon at my lowest, when I break down and feel this crappy with a bit of nausea and trouble breathing.
…As a little kid, things were different. I would sometimes get hurt playing with my friends, and when I did, I would act tough in front of them, shrug off the injury like it’s no big deal. But as long as I come home and see my mom, I would break down and start whining… I was no doubt a momma’s boy.
I don’t want to be a momma’s boy anymore. Crying to my mom now and crying to her when I was ten would get the same response from her. ‘Everything is going to be ok, mommy’s here’.
Except now, saying those soothing things wouldn’t necessarily make her feel better. She wouldn’t feel like she had proctected her baby and made things magically better. So many things are now out of our control, that all she’ll be left with is an added feeling of doubt and uncertainty.
I still want her to know that she’d be the first I come crying to when things get tough. Just maybe not now.
Just another chapter 