We used to be anonymous.
Behind closed doors and covered windows.
Criticism and gossip.
Accused and neglected!
The lack of knowledge ruled.
Almost nobody knew.
We tried to keep our heads above the surface.
Those we turned to for help always knew better.
Those who knew said nothing.
Those who should have spoken – were silent.
Would it have been the same if he had cancer?
A question to ask.
Sometimes we long for anonymity.
When all the good advice keep coming.
When all the good intentions – of course – treatments, tricks, experience, are put on our shoulders.
– And I feel like a terrible mother when I am not positive and enthusiastic to all the experience they present to me.
Experiences and experiments that some has benefitted from, but actually, (after digging into the treatment) even more have NOT benefitted from.
But it is too late. The anonymity is gone.
We chose it for ourselves.
We are not in hiding anymore.
The time when nobody knew,
that time is over.
It will never come back.
This feels good.
Some of you might be sick and tired of my writings about my son.
Some of you might think:
– is it possible to get this much out of days containing “nothing”?
Maybe when the days contain «nothing» you really see the content?
It is when you see the joys in the little things you really enjoy.
I remember when I was a little girl I longed for Christmas to come.
I had gathered my wishes all year, and finally – some of the wishes were to become true!
I remember looking forward to the cartoons we watched on Swedish Television.
I remember the chicken drumsticks we ate a Saturday night when I was young.
I remember the small bowls of candy; we were allowed to take one piece at the time.
I remember my first bottle of soda pop.
I remember eating chips in the back seat of the car going on summer vacation.
I remember cuddling in my mother’s arms and sitting on my father’s lap.
I remember the two kroner milk-chocolate I ate in tiny bites hiding in the darkness under the kitchen table.
I remember the first time I had my own money to shop for my own clothes.
What if I didn’t have the strength to watch the cartoons on television at Christmas?
What if I didn’t have any wishes because all I ever did was to lie in bed?
What if holiday foods, candy and soda pop made my stomach hurt?
What if holiday trips were events other people were a part of – or at least enjoyed? What if cuddling in my mother’s arms hurt me?
What if my father’s lap was far away?
What if shopping for my own clothes for the first time was such a big task I couldn’t possibly manage?
So I am happy,
– when he is well enough to take a shower!
– when he is able to talk to me – for more than 3 minutes
– when he even answers my questions!
– when his eyes aren’t red
– when he and I can watch an entire movie together – or most of it.
– when he is happy over the mushroom soup I cooked.
What makes you happy?
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