Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Most Helpful

My back hurts. It really. Fucking. HURTS. And so far, all of the things that are supposed to help it not really fucking hurt have come up short - or flat out failed.

Over the past three years, I have spent hours complaining and explaining to doctors and family members and friends, only to continue to feel unheard and unsupported. Everyone does their best, says they hope I get some relief soon, and nothing changes. Life goes on. I'm still in pain.

This morning I was having a particularly difficult time of it. The latest Thing That's Supposed to Help appears to be making the pain worse instead. I spent half an hour complaining and explaining (and sobbing), pacing the kitchen because it hurt to sit down. And then Rob left for work, saying, "Feel better," and I just lost it. I threw a fucking tantrum.

After Rob cleared out, I was just starting to calm myself down when I caught Westley staring at me.

"Mommy? he said, "I'm sorry you're not feeling well."

I forced myself not to burst into tears again. The kindness and sincerity in his little voice made my pain disappear for a beautiful instant. I took a deep breath, and got it (mostly) together.

"Thank you, sweetie. It's really helpful to hear you say that."

Westley has no idea how much of a help he is to me in my fucked-up state. And that's probably for the best. It seems strange and wrong that the most supportive person in my life right now hasn't even turned three yet.