|Aaron, my sweet boy|
Look familiar? Same child, same symptoms, different medical facility…
Aaron awoke this morning with the same pounding headache accompanied by a new symptom, vomiting. For your information, retching, dry-heaving teenage boys with persistent headache are a rather pathetic sight. Last night he played his guitar a few times. It was good to hear his familiar singing and strumming. I got so hopeful, I allowed myself to think that life might be getting back to normal. I thought too soon.
But as has been the case for several days now, the Hubs and I were awakened in the early hours to our middle OS begging for help.
We are at the doctor’s office trying some anti-nausea meds along with migraine medication to stave off this pain. The only upside to any of this is that Aaron needs me. He puts his head on my lap and lets me rub his back. I bet if I asked him right now if he was going to go far away for college, he might actually say no. Why? Because he needs me (at least for the moment.) And since I want to live in this fantasy land, I’m not going to ask him that question. I’ll just intuit that is currently his dutiful answer.
I know there are (click the underlined links) many families enduring serious medical crises. For them, the possibility of relief is distant. You know many of those people too and might even be one of them. During my years as a mother, as a general practice, I have prayed for children that possess my OS’s names. At the end of the night, as I am tucking in my guys, occasionally we have prayed for a child whom we don’t know who might be suffering. Usually the Hubs prays for them and tucks them in. But when it’s my turn, for example, we might pray for an Aaron who is in the hospital, or an Isaac who is going to bed hungry or a Nate who has nowhere to live.
I guess I’m hoping that at this very moment, some mom is doing the same thing. For an Aaron she will never meet. And that prayer is lovingly received, dear mama out there. Right now, I am thankful for those of you who are praying for my Aaron. The child I adore who is sick and in pain.