in the middle of the night i fought from a deep sleep as i heard a vague, "mom" and then a more urgent, "mama". and there was kidlet standing next to my bed. kidlet who had spent the last 24 hours back in the depths of depression. her plaintive voice asked for help. she was once again engulfed in the throes. she needed to know what to do. i told her to grab one of her Ativan. "and then what?" she wailed. and then what indeed, i wondered. i held open the coverlet to my bed. it worked when she was little, would it work when she was 24?
minutes later, she was spooned in, her body racked with sobs. when she calmed down, i asked her where Simon was. "they held him down and mugged him." she replied, still sniffling. "i will be your Simon, until he comes back." I replied. hoping that i could be.
sometime before dawn, she rose from my bed, and tiptoed toward her room. i asked why and she said she was hot, but felt better and thanked me for being her Simon.
this is a vicious disease. a devastating monster. as i lay here in bed, i wonder what this day will bring and hope she finds a ray of sunshine.
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4 comments:
You need to keep remembering, "You are a wonderful Mama/Simon" You are doing the best, just by being there.
The late night phone calls are still available.
Wild Child
Give that Kidlet a hug from me.
There is no hurt like a mother for a child who is in pain. Melanoma is nothing....barely worth notice or concern...when compared to my children...who are everything. You are doing well, my friend. C
It breaks my heart that Kidlet is in such pain, but I am so thankful that she has someone to be her Simon when necessary.
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