Last night, I found myself getting short tempered and frustrated. It wasn't anything anyone had done. It just seemed like every time I settled down, I would get called by Marty to help him to the bathroom or help him get something or just something. We are almost a month into this medical issue with Marty and, while he is slowly getting better, he still can't fully move around by himself. To put it bluntly, I am frustrated and tired and a little bitty part of me is scared. I am ready for life to go back to normal. I am ready to have three healthy, active boys. I am ready for all three boys to go running through the house. And, a little part of me is scared that things won't ever get back to normal. I am ready for this to be done.
I can't put the blame for my frustration on Marty. He has dealt with this better than almost any 14 year old I know. Hell, I don't think I could have dealt as well as he has with this when I was 14. Marty has been mostly cheerful. He is doing everything he can to fulfill his responsibilities. He is even wearing his uniform on the designated day for ROTC. I guess my frustration is really a manifestation of my worry for Marty.
And, then today, I got smacked in the face by reality and I truly felt like shit for giving in to my frustration for even a minute. See, today, we went to church. We attended the contemporary service like we almost always do. And, a few rows ahead of us, a lovely family was sitting. I've talked to them a time or two and know they are good people and they have charming children. This family has a beautiful little girl who will never walk on her own. I don't know the specifics of the little girl's disability. but I know she will never walk without her walker and I get the impression that she has other problems that will prevent her from ever living independently. Seeing this lovely little girl reminded me that some children will never have a chance of recovering from a disability. Now, this doesn't mean they can't live a happy and fulfilled life. It just means they don't even have a chance to live without a disability. Marty is likely to recover completely. The odds are better than good that he will be 100% fine. So, I need to get off the pity train, suck it up, and do whatever I can to help Marty and help him recover. At least, he has that chance. Today, I am thankful for that chance.
