Searching

I've been in touch with some old friends lately. Some make me want to get back to the good 'ole days and make different choices, take different paths. Now, my old friend pain has been under control with me living on a daily "balance beam" of making sure I don't startle the monster under my skin. But I have to live as normally as possible if for nothing else but making my kids feel like their lives are normal even if Daddy has suddenly left.

One of my friends, living in Los Angeles on the beach in a huge, gorgeous house and who works as a writer on several different shows, is someone I call when I need to hear about a life I could have (tried) to have. The last time we spoke, my kids started screaming in the background and the baby had a poopy diaper, so I told her that I had to go to change a diaper. She replied that she was going to take a walk on the beach. Bitch. (kidding) I started getting melancholy about me diving into a nasty diaper and her diving into the Pacific.

Another friend found out about my condition and remembered our first year in college when I was diagnosed with a "rare" muscle condition that I had to have surgery on. My first Thanksgiving in college was spent recovering from such surgery. I started thinking about the rare things which my body has been subjected. Now, why is it that I have negative rare things? Why can't I be the rarest fairest beauty of the land? No, I have rare conditions and diseases.

I was feeling rather blue about these two points.

Today I had to bring my youngest to the neurologist. He asked me for background information: Was the birth normal? No. Was he hospitalized in the last year? Yes. (OK, getting more depressed) Has anyone in the family been diagnosed with migraines or seizures? Well, now that you mentioned it...

I told him about the Trigeminal Neuralgia and his reaction: ugh. That was his professional opinion. Ugh. If you could describe my mentality at this point it would be a picture of Linus from the Peanuts drooping his head and dragging his blanky. I was just blah. Between me and my condition and my friends and their observations and great lives, I was just on the edge of depression. And then two events happened.

The neurologist said: I only wish that all of the kids that come into my office could look as good as yours. It might not sound like much to anyone else, but to me it was like a light being turned on. I was so expecting another radical diagnosis with major events to follow. It seems that is the case whenever we go to the doctor these days. But it wasn't. My son was close to perfect, and the doctor thought so too.

The second event occurred well after we arrived home. My parents had taken my older two to their house to give me a couple of days off. I had been feeling quite alone and out of control of the pain (the twinges were starting again), and thinking about the rareness of my conditions, etc. And then the phone rang. My daughter was on the other end saying good night to me, her voice cracking, "I miss you Mommy".

She missed me. She knows nothing about the dreams I have about being a writer. She knows nothing about the pain (thank God). She just knows she loves me, pure and simple. And it is that pure, simple love which is the rarest thing in the world, that I will hang on to when I start doubting my life.

So I will pick up my Linus blanky, tame the monster under my skin, and love my kids more each day. Because for now, that seems to be the cure for anything.