Superheroes

Sometimes life's problems can be tempered by a daughter who wants to hold your hand. Sometimes you get to return the favor in the same way.

 

I wrote that as my Facebook status last night.  It's been a rough week. 

My youngest daughter turned 12 yesterday.  I took her in to see her mom at the hospital, briefly, so that she didn't have to turn 12 completely without her mother.

My wife was recovering from a treatment that left her with a severe headache.  On a 1-10 scale, she reported it as 10.  And my wife does not exaggerate about pain.  She was able to shower some love on my daughter and visit, but her pain was so much that we didn't stay long.  On our way out, I stopped at the nurses station to advocate for my wife.  What pain relief meds were they giving her? What had the doctor ordered? Come to find out that the doctor was working off of his partner's notes from last week.  That doctor had ordered prescription strength Motrin.  What was missing was the nurse anaesthetist's chart who had ordered something stronger. Much stronger.  So she was, in effect, being under treated. The nurses were hurriedly trying to find the nurse anaesthetist's chart so they could contact the doctor--they were doing their job and I won't have anyone think they weren't.

 But what I didn't notice while I was advocating was my daughter.  Not until one of the nurses looked down and asked if she needed a tissue.  She had been quietly crying because her mom was so sick, was in so much pain, because she missed her so much.  And I had missed it.  The moment I turned my attention to her, the sobbing started.  And I felt awful.

We left the hospital, her hand in mind.  She cried. She talked. I listened. I talked.  And every time I let go to steer, to adjust a mirror, to do whatever, my daughter grabbed my hand back.  I don't want to say this is abnormal for her, but she has always had the strength of self determination and a strong independent streak (really, since she was about 6) so it was notable.

Slowly I realized that she was comforting me as much as I was comforting her.  And I began to think about my kids.  They've been through so much more than I have.  I have a grown up's emotional health and a grown up's understanding to deal with my wife's issues.  My kids have had to learn such things at an early age and in great difficulty.

Sure, they squabble as much as any siblings.  But they take care of each other, too. My older daughter took the time to help the youngest do her math last night. My son, took the time to make the others laugh; to entertain them and take their mind off of things.  The youngest will do small favors like getting a can of pop or taking a sibling's basket of clothes to their room for them. And last night, all three of them, slept in my oldest daughter's room, simply because it was comforting to do so.

And I realized that they take care of me too.  They are all worried about my health.  They hide food from me.  Seriously.  They hide the snack foods such as popcorn and chips.  And I ask them why and they say because they want to help.  I talk to them and make sure they don't feel responsible when I fail and they say they don't.  They just want to help. They say good job when I exercise. They tell me I'm not fat, I'm big boned.

I've been thinking a lot about how I would carry on without my wife. And how to take care of my kids. Last night it brought it into focus that my kids are old enough that I can let them take care of me, in small ways.

Even if it's as simple as holding my hand, when I'm hurting too.

My kids are superheroes.