November 4, 2013
I didn't step out of doors once today, but I'm pretty sure it was a little brisk.
I have decided to participate in the National Blog Post Month. This means that I will be writing each day of November.
A while ago, quite a while ago, I grew up in about a minute. That’s not to say that I am fully grown. I suspect I will keep working on that for the rest of my time.
Anyway back to that while ago. I do remember the exact moment. I was at the doctor’s office with my infant son. We were there for a regular check-up. I think he was about 2 months old.
As the doctor was trying to get my baby to follow his finger, the doctor murmured, “hmm he isn’t supposed to do that.” Being the proud mom, I remember that I felt happy because I thought that the doctor must have meant that my son was advanced for his age.
After I got the baby dressed, the doctor asked to speak to me in his office. That’s when he told me that my son had what is commonly known as lazy eye. He wrote down the medical term for it which is Esotropia. He also recommended we see an eye surgeon because he said that my baby would probably need to have an operation on his eyes.
I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. I don’t think I will ever forgive that doctor for delivering that news to me in such a nonchalant manner.
I was frightened for my baby. I didn’t know what any of it really meant.
After that doctor’s visit, I was I guess in a state of shock. When the shock wore off I slowly began to shutdown and eventually I experienced an emotional breakdown. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.
My mother came to visit one day. She firmly told me that mothers can’t break. She reminded me that this little boy needed me. But the thing that grabbed me, unraveled my cocoon and pulled me back to reality was when she asked me why I thought that I was different from everyone else. She wanted to know why I thought that I would never have experiences in my life which would challenge me. She bluntly told me to grow up. “It’s time,” she said.
I remember thinking that she was absolutely right. It wasn’t just about me anymore. She was holding my son at the time. She held him out for me to take him. I can still feel him in my arms.
There were two surgeries during his first 18 months of life. He was quite the little trooper.
In January of 2010, thirty-four years later, he had another surgery. It was an emergency operation and the diagnosis was incurable stage IV colon cancer.
This time my mother wasn’t there to help me, but her wise words were.