Over the last month or so, John has upped his usual maniac ways. His emotions have been turning on a dime, we have daily power struggles, and he has requested a new mom. (John: "What does 'fired' mean?" Me: "When you loose your job." John: "If you were fired, who would be my mom?" Me: "I don't know." John: "Maybe Mrs. Murphy could be my mom." Me: "Maybe." John: "Mom, you're fired.") He has also been having accidents up to 4 times a day, and has been wetting the bed frequently, even peeing on me once when I was in his bed when Matt was away and I didn't want to be on a different floor than the kids (terrible habit, I know, hello, Oedipus). But in the middle of the night one of these nights when Matt was away (after peeing the bed), Johnny asked for a glass of water to make his legs feel better. Weird. So I immediately think something is horrible wrong with him and look up his symptoms. I become convinced that he has diabetes and tell Matt that we must make him an appointment for a screening. Matt, used to my alarmist ways, requests that I wait just two days until the new job starts so we won't have any trouble with pre-existing conditions if it turns out that he does have diabetes.
I had the appointment last week. They do a test right there in the office. No diabetes. However, they said that his white blood count levels were up and they were sending it to the big lab for testing. I go home and look up what happens when white blood count leves are off, and I become convinced that John has a condition where his body is attacking his organs, and he will eventually die from this. I become completely depressed and think of life without Johnny. At least I will still have my two girls, and maybe then we'll have another baby. Maybe it will be a boy and his middle name will be Johnny. Annie will have the hardest time with Johnny's death because she adores him (although they fight like Shiites and Sunnis). I'm not sure I could have a regular funeral, standing up there in a receiving line with all those people coming through, trying super hard only to let the appropriate amount of crazy show.
Well, the pediatrician called today. No diabetes, no weird self-attacking disease. John will live. No funeral. No baby with Johnny as a middle name. Thank goodness I don't have to stand up in front of all those people trying not to be crazy.
But now, there's no disease that excuses his maniacal ways. That's just HIM! So I called my Dad for guidance, and he tells me that John is just a normal boy. As he gets older, his boy ways will be louder and bigger. God help me.
4 comments:
oh carrie! Hang in there. Sounds like Johnny is trying to work through a few things. As I am learning, boys are definitely different.
Yes - hang on. Good point Lisa. Way to provide support and encouragement. Meanwhile, I'm just glad that I'm not the only one out there who immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion (terminal illness, lying in a ditch on the side of the rode, kidnapped by Columbian drug lords while riding the blue line and now being held for a ransom that we simply cannot afford. . .) and then proceeds to elaborately plan a hypothetical funeral for the child, spouse or other loved one who has passed on in my mind, figuring out what I might say to all of the hypothetical people who will come to console me, how I will pull together a photographic slide show of said loved one life and times to play at the wake, bringing tears and laughter to all who watch (really, 2-3 days between dying and wake isn't enough time! kind of makes you think that you should go ahead and prepare one in advance, for all the important people in your life, just to be prepared -- like the New York Time -- they keep obits on hand for famous people who might die!), how I will bravely soldiar on with the spouse and/or children left behind with me . . . Overactive immagination? Coping mechanism? (Reality is never a bad/dramatic as the little scenarios I create in my head - or, as your post demonstrates, as the little scenarios you create!) I have a theory that people who do this sort of thing (in ridiculously morbid detail) are the SAME people who have the dream, even years after leaving school, that they've signed up for a class, but then failed to attend even one lecture, and now find themselves having to take the final exam. Do you have that dream?
I have that dream. I also have the dream where it is my wedding day and I have found that I haven't done a THING to prepare for it. I then look in my closet to try to find something to wear to my wedding. We haven't done laundry (notice in these kinds of dreams you still live in the same house, with your kids and your spouse that you already have married). I pull my black pants and a shirt out of the laundry and spot-clean them before dashing to the church. I am glad to know we are all crazy. I just a great line regarding jumping to the worst conclusions. "When you hear hoofbeats, think horse, not zebra." In other words, don't think of the weirdest, most unlikely example FIRST. But Jen, I think you're on to something, I think it is our way to be prepared.
Carrie...
Where are you? No book club, no blog...have you been kidnapped by aliens or has that compounding laundry swallowed you up never to be heard from again? Word on the kickball team is that you are our secret weapon.
Post a Comment