Yep. Totally and completely overwhelmed.
I know I am not the only one. But I think sometimes the first step is admitting it.
Maybe it was overzealous to try to synchronize mine and Meghan’s 6 month follow-up appointments to coincide with the first 2 weeks in July and the February break.
My initial attempt scheduled 12 doctors , plus one MRI and one sonogram between June 27th and July 16th, (for both of us combined.)
It has mushroomed to include a Pituitary Stimulation Test and another ultrasound, 2 more MRIs yet to be scheduled, a possible muscle biopsy – pending a conversation between 2 specialists, a full day of work for me one day next week, Physical therapy 1-2x a week as we can fit it, 3 nights a week of swim practice, and 2 dentist appointments (that I PRAY don’t need follow-up!)
So, I waffle in between resenting the loss of my summer, and being grateful that I have July to get all this done.
The entire month of June I salivated for July. I couldn’t wait for schedule free days. Now I am frantically overtaxing my shredder as I organize all the tasks I label for “summer,” during the year. The July calendar makes me nauseous. Literally.
I mean we might have gotten bored eventually, but we have barely been near the pool. I say bring on the boredom.
We could take the bus. But that often involves the need for the subway, which I won’t do with Meghan, and lots of walking, which honestly she can’t do. So, we drive, fill the car with gas, head over a bridge and through a tunnel to a carefully pre-selected parking garage.
And, since there is no predicting, there is always a meal to pack. Never want to be caught off guard with a hungry Gluten, Dairy, Soy allergic kid.
Sometimes we are on time. Sometimes we are late. Always we wait, and wait.
Meghan is the most well-behaved child. I don’t lie because there is no need. I am sure she was a gift to me – while we can at times butt heads, her personality allows her to pack a book, her iPad, or something, and sit. For hours and hours. I couldn’t pull this off if she was any other way.
But, I don’t know if I would have a choice. There is no traveling to Manhattan at 4 pm, on a school night. It just can’t be for either of us. So we do what we must.
Today, before 8AM she was in the park, running the “fun run” of a local race that has been dedicated to our “Angel Meghan” for over 20 years. She ran for a quarter-mile – 2 and a half minutes, came in a close 2nd, and has been nursing her knees ever since.
I am in the basement, shredding, and writing while I wait for my overworked shredder to cool. Trying to get a few things off the “to do” list.
My head is constantly going – processing new information learned this week. Thinking. Asking. Wondering. Worrying.
Today is a good day. Daddy is home. The ultimate distraction for her.
We had a long talk this morning, me and my girl. I tried to push her to reach out to some friends. To go and be carefree like she should be. Even if its only for a while. Everyone has something we reminded each other.
I still can’t shake my need for order. I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me my obsession with a clean house is tied to the inability to control much else in my life.
Cowden’s Syndrome – our curse, and our blessing. Sucking away hours that should be spent on the beach or in camp. Forcing a little love to grow up way too fast. Torn between my guilt that this mutation came from me, and my gratitude that she saved my life.
I lost my driver’s license today. Just the license. It fell out of my pocket. For $17.50 I ordered a new one on-line. Here’s to hoping that whoever tries to be me has a strong stomach, and a decent amount of stamina. They don’t know what they are up against.
The beach… and all her other plans – I will do my best.
Just trying to get by one day at a time.