…Must come down. And it did. Not too long after my previous post, everything simply collapsed. I went over to my folks’ to help out with the painting, and le man came over to lend a hand too. Everything was perfectly fine, up until the part when he got horrendously ill out of the blue. It was awful. I saw the strong man that I’ve known for so long now turn into… A mess of nothingness. And I couldn’t do anything about it.
My parents figured it might have something to do with the fumes of the paint or the cleaning solution we’d used the day before (it had gotten me sick the last time as well) so I made him some chamomile tea, and just sat with him. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and I couldn’t handle it. I hated myself for not being able to make him better, and I was scared. So scared that when he finally managed to fall asleep, I checked up on him every five minutes to see if he was still breathing. Just in case.
The time I didn’t spend with him, I didn’t spend helping out my parents either, making me feel even more useless than I already did. Especially when my mom decided to help out instead of me; she’s got some health issues of her own, but she’s insanely stubborn and simply refused to get off the ladder and give me my paintbrush back.
After le man woke up I tried to feed him a little but he threw up the bit of cucumber he managed to shove down his throat almost immediately. So we “hung out” in the bathroom, and seeing him hugging the toilet with one hand and holding mine with his other just broke my heart. For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t I fix this?! I know, I might be a little irrational but I just wanted to make everything OK again. But I couldn’t, so I just had to wait until it fixed itself. And it did, a little at least. An hour or so after our “toilet date”, he finally started to feel somewhat better, and I silently thanked “the powers that be”.
During the day that followed he was getting better little by little, and yesterday he was feeling good enough to go back home. The paint job at my parents’ turned out great, it’s a light, minty green now and I kinda wish I’d thought of it when I was moving in here, because the sensitivity of my white walls is driving me insane! But I’ll manage; cleaning a wall isn’t nearly as awful as the last two days have been.
One of the worst side effects from this episode is the fact that it got me thinking… I couldn’t handle not being able to help, so what if I have children later on in life and they get sick? And I’m not talking about heavy stuff like this, it’s just that I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle my child(ren) having a freakin’ cold and me being unable to help them. It’s gotten me to doubt my abilities as a mother, and that’s hard for me. But maybe I just wasn’t meant to be one.
I apologize for the long rant, I just really needed to get it out of my system for a while. Thank you for reading, and until next time.