I often say to my children while they’re not feeling well, “I’m sorry you’re sick if I could take it from you and give it to Mommy so you’re better, I would.”
It seems in this house we catch everything. We’re just friggin’ sponges to the colds and yuckies out there. My son had walking pneumonia back before December, maybe even around Thanksgiving and he was miserable. He would be upset so much, and I would say it to him daily. I know he knew I tried all I could, and I did take care of him, and I’d do anything. But when they’re sick they just don’t want to hear it unless you’re waving your wand and it’s happening then. I can’t blame them I’m the same damn way. I’m stubborn and if you aren’t easing my pain whatever you say is going in and right back out my ears.
Fast forward to last week. I had painful coughing fits constantly. I felt short of breath, and it hurt so bad in my ribs. Just a run down achy feeling for around five days before I went to the walk in. I seriously avoid going to any doctor always, so going should say something. My anxiety overpowers me, but I finally pushed and got there..with company. The doctor told me I just had bronchospasm and acute bronchitis and ordered me an inhaler and some cough medicine. Well, a low-grade fever and some more of the nonstop coughing brought me back four more days later. They ordered an X-ray and some new meds and told me no pneumonia was found but if I still felt like I couldn’t breathe to go to the ER. I tried to go to the store that night, and I was starting to pass out in there. I couldn’t breathe any better even though it had been a few hours but I knew my mind wouldn’t be at ease without another check. 7 long hours, an ekg, and another X-ray at the ER later, they finally told me they saw pneumonia. The doctor there also didn’t even catch it; the radiologist did.
I have a point and connection to the beginning of this story below I promise.
When I got home, I was still so sick that I couldn’t sleep or stop coughing. They say rest but mom to three never really can even with help, not fully. My son came over to my bed the next night. He said, “Mommy, it worked what you said.” I was so out of it I didn’t know what he meant and barely got out a “huh?” He said, “you know, you took my pain when I was sick like you said. I got better and you have my pneumonia now because you took it from me then because you love me, and it went to you for you to take all my pain.” I explained, in reality, it’s not that easy, where I can somehow take their pain, so they never feel anything but great. I also don’t want them to feel bad thinking moms always sick because of us, but it was the cutest thing for him to put together and say. I mean I would if I could take every sniffle, cold, belly ache, pain or sickness I could for them, which is why I say it, but it’s just wishful mom thinking.
Now I still feel awful, and I am in so much pain that I can barely take care of them, and do the things I need to do. I was starting to get depressed also just thinking how much isn’t going right. But when I have moments like that or remind myself to think of the kids being sweet, they help take my pain. They help me not be so down and try to figure out how to get through it in return. I think they’re better at what I try to do myself. That’s what it’s all about. Family love is a form of medicine.