“All parents set out with expectations, hopes and dreams for their child. When a child is diagnosed with a health problem, these aspirations are altered. While one parent is hoping to see their child graduate from university, another is praying that they can live pain free”
― Sharon Dempsey
This is something I think about a lot; how my mother must feel. I imagine it must have been hard at first, watching her daughter slowly whisp away, into the depths of an illness.
I imagine she must have felt some guilt for me being sick.
Sometimes, I picture her sitting up late at night, drowning in her thoughts. Thoughts of worry and wonder. Thoughts of hope for my future. Maybe even thoughts of fear.
I know I do.
I would be up at the most perfect time of the day, a little before the sun wakes up, and just think.
I would think about what would have happened to me if we hadn’t caught this sooner, or if I hadn’t gotten my treatment fast enough.
I like to think about what it’ll be like when I go back to school. Fully emerged in the stares and whispers of some meaningless high school. I can feel it already, their eyes on me as I walk in to school, that early April morning. Ignoring them as much as possible.
Hopes? Oh yes, I have many hopes.
I hope to graduate high school, on time, with my friends.
I hope to continue on to Med School and become a pediatric nurse. Where I’ll be helping children just like I once was.
I hope my family forgives me for making them worry about me for such a long time.
I hope my friends let me have a “redo” on my teenage-hood, that I lost a long time ago.
I hope to never have to say to my future child, “Mommy’s too sick to play right now”.
I don’t mind faking my smile. I really don’t mind that I pretend I’m not in pain. Because one day, I won’t have to fake a smile or pretend I’m in pain. That smile will be real. That pain will be gone.
This will all just be a distant memory of what was.