I feel that in parenting, optimism is treated very carefully -- mainly because those 'ah ha - nailed it' moments where you feel like a Jedi Mother Master, can be replaced very quickly by 'holy mother - have I just ruined this little person for life' type situations. Take for example last week; I read back on my last post and think 'ahh, how cute - she has no clue'. On Wednesday I was taking an evening walk, the two girls were babbling happily and I had that thought,'this is just delightful, maybe I'm excelling in the business of child rearing'.
Well that was silly. That night, Evie wakes up coughing. A little pat and she's back down - sorted. The next morning she wakes up a little grizzly, her temperature wasn't too high so we continue play as usual, I tell her off for taking Isobel's toys, she cries hysterically and then slinks off. On hunting for her I find her laid out on her bed, roasting hot and asleep. I feel the mother guilt but I also feel a new sensation. I feel scared, for myself.
Evie then spends the next few days battling this cough/cold before Isobel comes down with it on Saturday. Isobel also has not one, but 3 teeth coming through. I feel this is a fairly ordinary cycle with children and majority of parents take it on the chin -- accept there's going to be a few sleepless nights, keep working, take some pain relief and power through without giving it much thought. It's what I did, before becoming a cancer patient, before being the owner of a compromised immune system.
Now I'm aware of my body's every ailment - hmmm, could that be a patch of dry skin? slight itch of my foot? I honestly could not tell you how many times a day I check my lymph nodes or I trace the scar on my neck suspiciously. I had been feeling good so I had started to become a little more confident and easing off my once overs. Then on Monday, it hit. I felt a slightly scratchy throat. No problem, drink lots of water, take it easy, have an early night. By this morning I could only but whisper. I'm not going to lie, it's terrifying. Thoughts race through my head -- could this cold be the chink in my armor that allows the cancer to get busy? Why did my immune system not fight this off? I quickly dispel those thoughts. I take my temperature, 98.1. Phew. No raging fever. I use the head lamp method to check my throat, too busy blinding myself in the mirror to draw any conclusions here. I take my blood pressure, because yes, I have indeed created my own home mini clinic. I wasn't joking when I said I was missing my Oncologist and nursing team. I drank lots of tea and tried to draw from my inner zen not worry too much. It may just be a sore throat, which would most likely be extra sore on a post radiated throat.
Evie is now back to her happy self. She's clearly enjoying my lack of talking. From across the dinner table she looks at me and demands, 'I Need Yogurt'. I attempt my best Jedi Mother Master glare and just about manage to whisper 'asssk niiiiccceellly', which sounds like I have taken a turn to the dark side. She smiles and looks at Daddy, 'I need Ice cream, Daddy'. Clearly I'm not as scary as I think.
I could tell Nick was worried when he came home today. He brought me flowers and dessert. After the girls went to bed, he looked at me and said optimistically, 'would you like dessert?'. 'Yes, please Nick'. He looked relieved, so am I. I know that if I'm still eating dessert, I'm 'A Ok'.
Well that was silly. That night, Evie wakes up coughing. A little pat and she's back down - sorted. The next morning she wakes up a little grizzly, her temperature wasn't too high so we continue play as usual, I tell her off for taking Isobel's toys, she cries hysterically and then slinks off. On hunting for her I find her laid out on her bed, roasting hot and asleep. I feel the mother guilt but I also feel a new sensation. I feel scared, for myself.
Evie then spends the next few days battling this cough/cold before Isobel comes down with it on Saturday. Isobel also has not one, but 3 teeth coming through. I feel this is a fairly ordinary cycle with children and majority of parents take it on the chin -- accept there's going to be a few sleepless nights, keep working, take some pain relief and power through without giving it much thought. It's what I did, before becoming a cancer patient, before being the owner of a compromised immune system.
Now I'm aware of my body's every ailment - hmmm, could that be a patch of dry skin? slight itch of my foot? I honestly could not tell you how many times a day I check my lymph nodes or I trace the scar on my neck suspiciously. I had been feeling good so I had started to become a little more confident and easing off my once overs. Then on Monday, it hit. I felt a slightly scratchy throat. No problem, drink lots of water, take it easy, have an early night. By this morning I could only but whisper. I'm not going to lie, it's terrifying. Thoughts race through my head -- could this cold be the chink in my armor that allows the cancer to get busy? Why did my immune system not fight this off? I quickly dispel those thoughts. I take my temperature, 98.1. Phew. No raging fever. I use the head lamp method to check my throat, too busy blinding myself in the mirror to draw any conclusions here. I take my blood pressure, because yes, I have indeed created my own home mini clinic. I wasn't joking when I said I was missing my Oncologist and nursing team. I drank lots of tea and tried to draw from my inner zen not worry too much. It may just be a sore throat, which would most likely be extra sore on a post radiated throat.
Evie is now back to her happy self. She's clearly enjoying my lack of talking. From across the dinner table she looks at me and demands, 'I Need Yogurt'. I attempt my best Jedi Mother Master glare and just about manage to whisper 'asssk niiiiccceellly', which sounds like I have taken a turn to the dark side. She smiles and looks at Daddy, 'I need Ice cream, Daddy'. Clearly I'm not as scary as I think.
I could tell Nick was worried when he came home today. He brought me flowers and dessert. After the girls went to bed, he looked at me and said optimistically, 'would you like dessert?'. 'Yes, please Nick'. He looked relieved, so am I. I know that if I'm still eating dessert, I'm 'A Ok'.
I saw this today and I liked it.
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