What the Heck Does That Have to Do With Parenting?
After posting last week about dizzy spells, I started to feel a tad nauseous and very tired. I convinced myself that I was having a heart attack at 10:30 p.m., and instead of going to bed (which would have been the normal, better idea), I went to the E.R. By the time I got there, my heart was racing, my left hand was feeling numb and tingly and I was sure I was going to die.
I was not having a heart attack.
In fact, I was not having anything at all, except that same vertigo I’d been dealing with for two weeks.
But in my panicked state, and with a five-hour wait ahead of me in the E.R. waiting room, I somehow caused my symptoms. I mean, my hands were actually losing feeling. I went up to the check-in window again and begged to be seen, convinced that I could drop dead at any minute.
They called me in quickly after that, and did a quick EKG. The EKG determined that my heart was fine – so I went back out into the waiting room, at which point my symptoms completely disappeared and I went to sleep in a chair.
Over the course of the next 8 hours, I got a CAT scan of my brain to rule out tumors and a chest x-ray, in case the EKG missed something. They took blood, too. They ruled out everything that might cause dizziness – and then some.
So, you say, what the HECK does that have to do with parenting?
Besides announcing to the world that I possibly had a psychosomatic panic attack, the only thing I thought about in my state of possible heart-attacked-ness, is that I had to be healthy to take care of my kids. I didn’t think (sadly) about my husband, who would of course be lost without me. I didn’t think about my parents, who were living it up in the Carribbean. I did text one friend, who awesomely answered texts until 1 a.m., but I wasn’t worried about her living without me.
I was only worried about the kids. It’s like my entire purpose for living is that those kids need me. And what if – and this COULD happen! – what if the kids grow up? What if they do exactly what they are supposed to do, and grow up, and become self-sufficient? Then what will I do?
I always said, this is why I play softball – so I’ll have a life outside of my kids. But gosh, it’s winter. And softball is only going to carry me so far.
I guess I’m writing this just to admit that I now know that my kids are my only reason for living.
And, thank God – and there was much prayer while I was in the hospital, so I am thanking God – I have another day to live. For them, or whatever – I still have the chance to be here for them.
Just for today.