Roller Coasters

We wait.  My anxiety levels are through the roof.  My stress levels are high. I can feel the cortisol coursing through my body.  When the phone rings, I twitch before answering it.  J called me three times on Monday, and I almost screamed at him to stop calling me because every time he did, I worried he was calling with bad news.

Bad news.

That’s so…delicate.  Bad news.  Deterioration. Death. That’s what we are anticipating and dreading with each phone call.

We’ve been up, euphoric, one day with good news and down, despairing, the next with bad news.  We’ve had instances where those upheavals have occurred in the same day, almost hourly.

It’s tough, and I have no doubt that it is toughest of all on the patient, J’s beloved grandmother, and his mother, her daughter.  And of course on J and his brother and grandfather.  I have no problems giving J all the time he needs to spend with his grandmother and mother.

We love Mum.  We don’t want her to be in pain, and this up and down is terrifying and confusing.

Roller coasters are fun at amusement parks.  They are not fun when it is your life, your reality.

Tonight was a good night for Mum, so we took Daniel to see her.  Unfortunately, Daniel had not had a nap, so he deteriorated quickly after about 20 minutes.  Even though I had only arrived a few minutes before, I bundled my wee one into his coat and carried him to the lobby, ignoring his weepy protests of “Put down, Mama.”

Daniel means the world to Mum, and I hope she was able to witness her dynamo of a great-grandson for a few moments tonight.

I don’t know how many more moments we’ll have.

I’m beginning to hate roller coasters.

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