I want to be consistent with this writing thing, but when I sit down with my laptop, I don’t have any ideas. A lot has happened in the last 3 days. Worried mama type things. Spontaneous crying. My son had an incident at work. A fall causing a seizure, or a seizure causing a fall. No one saw what happened. A phone call from the paramedics asking what hospital I wanted him to go to will haunt me. I arrived at the ER expecting to see him unconscious, hooked up to machinery. He was standing, putting his shirt back on. One side of his face was covered in dried blood. A cut on the side of his head. I know head wounds bleed a lot. A fractured vertebra we found out about later. They took him for a scan. I heard on the intercom “Code Blue in CT Room 1” I knew it was him. He doesn’t remember much from the hospital, and virtually nothing after the second seizure and was medicated.
Luckily, he’s back to himself now, despite random bouts of nausea and vomiting. (I honestly don’t need to hear your explanation of concussion symptoms. I’ve been given more advice on concussions (which he was NOT diagnosed with) than a pregnant woman gets on childrearing.)
The coming week will be busy. The next few months my routine will be disrupted. I don’t care about any of that, as long as he’s okay. I’m trying to not hover like a mama hawk. Technically, he IS an adult. I’ve hugged him more the last 3 days than I have in the past 3 months. He knows I’m worried. Luckily, he tolerates me. I hated when my mom treated me like a child even when I was in my 30s and 40s. I honestly don’t think she ever saw me as a functioning adult. I’m working on giving him space but being available if needed.
I know moms who have lost children. I can’t even begin to imagine what they have gone through. I feel like my worry is, insignificant? compared to their experiences. And I feel guilty.
I’m focusing on catching up housework, and laundry. I went out for a while and sketched. I’ve mowed. I decided to write although I feel this is more of a rambling stream of consciousness. Maybe getting it all out of my head will help. Or I’ll just go clean out the fridge.