Bubble life superstitions

Written by Chic Country Life

Loving the rural life. Living close to nature with the family and my motorcycle on the Manitoba Prairie.

June 12, 2014

Bubble life superstitions

Superstitious? Apparently.

I could not bring myself to blog about my son until I knew more.  I was scared I would jinx the whole thing into something worse if I did.

Scientifically, I know this makes not a bit of difference, however, as a desperate person I foolishly pray that if I don’t tell, don’t say anything, maybe, just maybe it will go away or won’t be so bad.  So, yes that is why I could not blog about the test results until I knew that they did not involve any additional problems.  I didn’t even tell the majority of our family, never mind friends, what we have been dealing with over the last year.  Only the people who had to know did.

Did it make it easier to deal with things?


Did it make the diagnosis any less serious?


So, why am I being superstitious?  Because, I was afraid of the “big C”, cancer, or some other horrible disease that would make this even worse.  I am afraid of a diagnosis with that is unhopeful. I am afraid of my son being subjected to more tests and procedures.  That’s why, like a hockey player on the run for The Cup who refused to shave, I couldn’t talk.

Will I jinx things now?

I don’t know.

I feel like I am living inside a bubble.  Constantly in fear of making the wrong move or decision that may cause it to pop.

Like tonight.

My son is lying on the couch beside me.  He came downstairs, complaining of a headache and was a little out of sorts.  I grilled him with the usual drill of possible symptoms.  He was not really responsive – I think he was still half asleep.  He does do this sometimes – talk in his sleep and appear awake – but he said he didn’t feel like being alone.

I don’t want to leave him either.  I am sitting here while he sleeps half on my lap, exhausted myself, but knowing I will not get any sleep. Blogging…

Those results? Not cancer, no viral or bacterial cause.  Basically, no concrete explanation for why this is happening.  Apparently it does though, and it is rare.

The hope?  The hope is that he responds to the medication.  That he possibly outgrows it.  That he doesn’t suffer any prolonged effects and most importantly that he is in less pain.

Imagine the worst headache of your life, the kind that make you irritable and nauseous.  The king of all headaches that never really leaves, that teases you into thinking it may be gone only to come rushing back.

Now, imagine your six.  How do you rationalize it? Is it because you are a bad kid? Is it monsters?  How do you explain why you do things you don’t “normally” do or react in ways that aren’t “normal”?

You tell your mom, “I can’t control my body, it just makes me do things.”

And you wonder, why you?  Why does your life have to be this way?  Why can’t your little brother have to go to the hospital too?

Why indeed.

And the answers?

I don’t know.  I haven’t got them.

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