You know that saying, "Mama always said there'd be days like this" (isn't that a song?!). So true, except thanks to my loving (just a hint of sarcasm here) husband pointing this out, I actually said this myself. At one point today he brought me back to one of my early blog entries, before we even came to Denver...an entry that I'm sure was written to prepare me just for today...the day where everything we are living in at this moment just hits me like a ton of bricks.
The day started at therapy this morning, where Cade began by literally running throughout the center...down the halls from room to room. When Julianna was finally able to corral him into the gym he spent most of the next hour jumping from one activity to another, spitting and sticking his fingers in his mouth...crazy uncontrollable disorganization. Julianna and I shared uneasy glances throughout the session, and at one point I just looked at her and said something like, "I don't even know what to do with him right now...." Yeah, it was that kind of day.
And down it went from there. There were moments of some organization today -- glimpses of what I can only pray my little boy will be most of the time when his body one day gets to some sort of regulation. But today was the day I hit the wall -- the day that I'm sure must come for parents in our situation. Today was the day that I felt completely out of control...the day that I began to wonder whether we would actually be able to get Cade the help he needs.
And then I was fortunate enough (insert sarcasm here) to speak with a representative from Delta Airlines, who was able to regretfully inform me that it was going to cost us $800 to change our 4 tickets back to Charleston (Cade's therapy has been extended for a week here in Denver). And then she wanted to make sure that I knew that she "understood" our situation (insert really drippy sarcasm here). Yeah, we're not done with this situation yet...
Eric took the boys to the park late this afternoon...this fortunately gave me some down time to try to collect myself (mostly unsuccessfully). Before he left he pulled up two things for me on his computer. The first was my previous blog entry I mentioned earlier...the entry where my own words predicted this day. The second was a Bible verse -- Philippians 1:6 - "...and I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue His work until it is finally finished on the day that Christ Jesus returns." Thankfully one of us has our wits about us today and he is able to be of some encouragement to my rapidly sinking ship.
I have had the feeling today that I am on one of those crazy simulation rides - you know, the ones where the seats move and it feels like you're actually on a ride, but really it's just a simulation of the ride? I keep thinking that surely someone will turn this thing off or pull the plug...something to make this stop. Nope...the ride is still going, and I'm still here...
...and still being here is a really good thing. Because whenever there is a crisis I must save myself first. I must put on my oxygen mask before I can help Cade put on his. I must get into the life raft before I can help Cade in. And I must keep myself together before I can help Cade begin to help himself heal his body...
So tonight I pick myself up...save myself first...come home from my pity party and steel myself for tomorrow. For in the words of Scarlett O'Hara -- "Tomorrow is another day..."
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