A New Level of Understanding

Ok, I kinda get it now and I must admit that I really don't like the feeling.  For the last 21 years, I've been able to relate to other RSDers.  For the last 8 years I've been able to take a caregiver's perspective into consideration when my pains flare.  As a single adult living alone, I can hide my bad pain days, for the most part.  No one is compelled to watched my writhe in pain.  No one is forced to listen to me gasp, cry, grunt, or scream out in pain.  Whereas it is a very lonely feeling, I just can't bring myself to project these aspects of my life into someone else's life.  I feel helpless enough without imposing that helpless feeling onto another caring individual.  But after Munchkin Nanny Duty yesterday, I now understand(ish) the helplessness that caregivers experience.

I love the Munchkins more than I can put into words!!  Because of my RSD, I was unable to have children of my own.  These two 3 year olds have filled a void in my heart.  When they're hurting or sick, my heart aches.  When they're chatty and informative, my heart soars.  And when they fall out bed on my watch, get a bloody nose, and scream bloody murder, my heart breaks. 

That's what happened yesterday.  The 3 of us had had a blast playing basketball, playing with bubbles, playing with trains, playing games on my iPad and iPhone, watching a movie, playing Karma Restaurant (where they don't take my order but serve me what I deserve ... usually plastic cupcakes and cookies), and going out to lunch with a kidnapped Grandpa.  (Aunt Jenn likes to promote the classic movies whenever and wherever she can.  Yesterday our movie was Bright Eyes with Shirley Temple.)  The Princess renamed Good Ship Lollipop, "The Whipped Cream Song."  The twins begged to watch that part 3 more times (which falls right in line with, "... eat 3 more bites") before they went down for their naps.  I didn't have a problem with that at all!! ;) 

Da Gurl crawled into her small bed in the room that she shares with her brother when they stay at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  I tucked her in with Penelope The Doll, kissed her nose, told her I love her, and wished her sweet dreams.  Since naptimes are iffy in our world, and since there are 2 of them, their afternoon sleeping arrangements have to be separate.  So I took C-man into his Mommie's room and hoisted him up on her "big bed."  I tucked him in with his "griraffe," kissed his nose, told him I love him, and wished him sweet dreams.  I was lying on the couch in my parent's family room, watching some yard remodeling show that I don't get at my house when, all of a sudden I heard a floor-rattling <THUNK>!!

C-man had fallen out of bed.  I ran to him to find him face down on the floor, next to the bed, in a puddle of blood.  I scooped him up and dashed to the bathroom.  (Yes, when the situation calls for it, this Crazy Cripple can dash!!)  There was blood all over his face, hands, shirtsleeves, and my pullover.  With all of the tenderness of Mother Teresa, I cleaned him up.  My heart was broken ... right in half ... possibly in thirds.  I couldn't dry his tears, they were pouring out too fast.  All I could do was hold him, kiss his head, whisper "shhhhhhh" over and over against his cheek, rub his back, stroke his hair, and when the sobs would subside, I'd try to offer him a distraction.  (yep, that usually led to more tears and wailing) ... He finally asked to watch "the airplane movie" again (Bright Eyes) and agreed to drink a bit of water.  I was helpless.  It was a bloody nose.  A pain that I was unable to fix.  There was nothing that could be done, except what I was already doing.  Ok RSD parents and caregivers, I get it now!!!  And it SUX!!!!

There was the guilt of it happening on my watch ... but it could have happened on anyone's watch!!  There was the feeling of shame that I'd have to tell my sister that one of her kids was injured ... was she going to blame me and tell me I could never babysit again? (dumb thought, I know this ... it was only a fleeting thought, but it did cross my mind.)  There was the guilt that C-man was looking to me for comfort and to take his pain away, and I couldn't do it and I felt like I was letting him down.  And then when his cries woke his sister, I felt guilty because my lap wasn't big enough to hold them both.  When she asked for a snack, he cried when I tried to put him down.  When he asked for a snack too, I really thought the worst was over ... until he cried because it hurt to chew.  It finally came down to the distractions of the games that I have loaded my iPhone and iPad for them.  After 2 hours of experiencing complete helplessness, I was, for lack of a better word, 'rewarded' by his giggles while playing one of the PBS Parent games.

I have faith that the Bombshell will let me babysit again.  I have faith that this won't be the last time that tears are shed over boo-boos on my watch.  I have faith that when push comes to shove, my crippled body can move to protect, rescue, and/or comfort those that I love.  I have faith that the parents to whom I can now relate,on a certain level, feel their "rewards" with an ever deeper sense of appreciation than I feel.  It's nobody's "fault."  It's life.  It happens.  All we can do is try to make the best of the bad moments with a lot of TLC ... and a little forgiveness of self too, because there are way more good moments out there to be had ... together!!!