They suck.
Those days where you have constant reminders that part of you is sick. Wrong. Off.
It's been bad lately, but the last few days have been possibly the worst reminders of my lingering symptoms. The numbness in my left foot is expanding, my toes hurt when I walk. My right side - arm and leg - get weaker. The fatigue is incredible. My brain has that mushy impossible-to-concentrate sensation.
I hate that I am at the stage where I have permanent damage from this.
And it gets worse after busy, stressful days. Parenting with an illness (or injury), in my opinion, is the hardest thing one can face. Balancing on that invisible line of weighing your own needs against those of your children. Those little creatures you want to put first.
But I have a lot to be happy for. And I try to think about that every single day. Cliché, I know. But it helps a lot.
Jack, in grade 1, had his report card yesterday. He's my "cheerful, friendly student who always shows a sense of humour." He is not a serious, reserved student, or a quiet kid. And I love that about him. I love his silly antics that can crack the hardest of demeanours. And I am thankful that I ended up with a son like that. Somedays I really need him - just for that extra laugh.
The overly-proud, crazy-hugging-Mom came out yesterday, prompting him to instruct: "I know you are so proud of me, but please don't cry at the playground."
Gotta love that!
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