Sometimes I feel like I’m in Rachel’s Holiday.
For anyone who hasn’t read it, it’s a classic Marian Keyes novel about a girl with a sizeable recreational drug habit who goes to rehab. Only she sees it as a chance to take a break and get in some quality time with the jacuzzi. Of course it’s a holiday, because she doesn’t have a drug problem. Not like her fellow inmates (not sure if that’s the term but you know what I mean). Poor Rachel. It takes a long time for her to see what everyone else does.
Now, I’m not trying to admit I have a drug problem but I do sometimes wonder if I’m Rachel. Am I similarly deluded?
Deep down I believe that one day I’m going to wake up and Ted will fine. He’ll have caught up on his delays, be waking, talking, playing, running, causing trouble, just like any other little boy.
Because Ted’s different, you know? Yes, he’s got the worst form of cerebral palsy and now epilepsy. But he’s got me as his mum and I don’t believe what they tell me about his future. He looks too bright, too normal. Plus we do all these therapies. There’s cranial, and homeopathy, and massage, ABM, ABR, and Snowdrop. I SO need to tell you about Snowdrop but it deserves it’s own post.
Anyway, all these things will fix him, he will be fine in a few years, won’t he? If only everyone was doing what we do and knew about these things. We’ve got in early and we’ve picked the right treatments and in years to come we’ll be the people telling those reassuring stories about how we were told Ted would face severe problems but look at him now, not a thing wrong hahahahahaha.
Or will I one day realise, as I load Ted into a van in his wheelchair and hear him type out a message on a communication device, that the holiday is over and it’s time to face reality?
Who knows? There are so many outcomes that could be our future and we won’t know until we’re there. The optimist in me says: like any good trip it’s not about the destination, it’s the journey that counts. I just pray there aren’t too many bumpy landings on the way.