Today we meet with the doctor to hear his prognosis on the data collected during our daughter's 5-day hospital stay. It has been weighing on me almost constantly. I can understand now, or at least empathize, with those people who seek escape in...whatever. I used to think, "yeah, a little break from the world is nice...keeps me from getting too down and burned out". But I was just thinking about the fun in seeing a summer blockbuster movie or having a few beers around the pool. And while I personally am not into any recreational drugs, I could understand folks who would unwind with them on the weekends from time to time. However, I still had disdain for those who "just can't deal with reality, man". I mean, c'mon, escaping is no solution. You know the problem is still going to be there when you sober up, right?
Damn straight it's going to still be there. That's why I'm coming to understand that mindset now. It's like grief for a loved one. The stress/anxiety becomes a part of you. Every breath is just a bit more constricted. Every movement feels just a bit more heavier. God, I don't want to be here. Escape becomes the solution. But not to the real problem, but to the newer more prominent one: the oppressive stress. Escape relieves stress but it does not negate it. The cause is still there. The image that comes to mind, and it's a silly one, is using an umbrella to deflect the stream of water that someone is aiming at you with a hose. The umbrella relieves you from the wetness, but the real problem--the flow of water--remains. That's what one needs to deal with. But it's just so nice to be dry for while.
The other night I had a dream. I was driving the family along a highway--I-80 toward Auburn, I'd guess--and the car wasn't responding well. I was kind of tired but okay but the steering was getting heavy. I didn't dare let up on the gas because traffic was really clipping along. I remember seeing a Rolls Royce pass us by but it's paint job was really bad--oxidized and blotchy. I pointed it out to the girls; they weren't too impressed. And then I really had to struggle with the steering. I looked down and noticed that the steering wheel had shrunk in diameter to about 8-inches. I remember thinking "Why is this lowrider steering wheel in here? Why would anyone want this in their car? It's too hard to control..." The car wouldn't turn and then we went off the road. We somehow made it across the opposing lanes and went up the hill on the other side. I was screaming; the girls were screaming. We started to roll over...and I woke up.
Pretty clear cut symbolism, I should think. I'm losing control of mine and my family's lives. I'm not properly equipped and not paying attention. The Rolls? Even quality stuff can go to shit if you don't take care of it whether it is a fine car...or a family.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't operate. I'm not too sure I'll be too stable during the days leading up to it if they can. But if they can't; if Maddy has to live the rest of her life with epilepsy (which, when you come down to it, is not really all that bad) and with the resulting learning disabilities (the real shitty part), we're going to have to realign our entire future lives. And, even if they can operate there really is not a guarantee that the learning disabilities will dissipate. That's just my assumption, my hope, my prayer.
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