We have been so sick for over a week now. I know that people keep talking about all the bad stuff that's going around and how it's worse than usual, etc. I am here to tell you, it's sad when you get a cold that knocks you out for a week. A cold, people! And, of course, it's done the boy a whole lot worse, because of his asthma and nephrotic syndrome.
When David gets a virus of any sort, it usually sets his asthma running amok. It also has the tendency to make his nephrotic syndrome flare. When that happens, he swells up with retained water (his kidneys don't work properly) and he has a series of medical protocols we have to undergo to get him back to normal. His new line of meds really isn't working all that well and this cold has slammed him to the floor.
I took him to the doctor on Monday for a breathing treatment. Even I could hear him wheezing. And he's been so completely limp, not wanting to leave the couch, even to torment the girls. The physician's assistant agreed and got the nebulizer going.
David is a sweet, loving boy but on a daily basis, he's only lovey at night. He gives me a kiss and a hug and tells me he loves me every night before he goes to bed. Also whenever I leave the house. Even if I'm walking the dog. But he doesn't want me loving on him in public. You'll understand why I was surprised when he wanted to sit on my lap and have me hold him like a baby when he was getting his treatment. You may also understand why this was so difficult. David is only a head shorter than I am and quite a solid guy.
We finally achieved this and I was sort of holding him, although not cuddled like a baby. That was not possible on the chairs in the office. I was kind of ruffling his hair with my chin and this sudden, awful thought ran through my head. "What if I'm holding him like this some time because he's been shot?" No, I don't watch a lot of tv, I think the thought was due to the fact that I was burrowing in his afro-Mohawk and subconsciously thinking about him as an adult African-American man.
It was bad enough that he was so sick, now I've got him shot and dying as an adult. I started to analyze where in the world that thought came from but then decided it was too sick to even contemplate. I quashed it down as best I could and cuddled my big little boy. Then an image from a basilica I'd toured some years ago came to mind. It was a statue of Mary holding her dead Son when he came off the cross. And she was holding him much like I was having to hold David.
I can't even imagine. It would be bad enough for your child to get killed because he was doing something stupid or dangerous on his own. But to lose your son because He was being the sacrifice for the sins of all mankind? Including yourself?
No, I don't usually have thoughts like this, but that was the one I had while I was holding David in the doctor's office. My mind. It's just a little funky.