Comfort

Sometimes comfort comes in the strangest forms. Yesterday on the fourth floor of Akron Childrens neorology department I found just that. It was like someone wrapped me in the warmest blanket on the coldest day. Quite honestly in a nuerology department you never know what type of patients you will encounter. There are some that the issues are obvious, some that aren't, and the in-betweens. Looking around the waiting room, it hit me. These parents and caregivers know exactly what I'm going through. Some have mountains to climb that make mine look like a small grassy knoll on the hillside. They are in that waiting room for a reason. Their child needs help. I'm embarrassed to say that as Alex gets older and restrictions get greater, I am angry. I think its natural that as a mother I want for him , what every child deserves, to be healthy. To be able to live a life without limits. Hearing the doctor say that he is "disabled" "handicaped" and will never be able to live an independent life is overwhelming. I'm not embarrassed, I hurt for him. Looking at the faces of the other parents in the waiting area, it felt a little like coming home. Somedays it feels like no one else understands what it feels like to be in the middle of eating dinner and seeing your child seize. Knowing that your child must take 15 pills a day to try and ward them off. Saying no to every activity that we take for granted. The list goes on and on. In that short 15 minutes on the fourth floor , I felt something I haven't felt in a very long time, comfort. For that, I am grateful.