Kiss My Arse, August.

Up until 2021, summer had always been my favorite season. I looked forward to the sunny days, trips to the lake and not having to make school lunches. Much of it was me regressing to carefree childhood memories I suppose, as though life just got a little bit easier during July and August.

Last July I found myself abruptly leaving my job. I bounced around a bit and then covid struck all of us on August 1st. But I would take last summer over this one that just ended in a heartbeat. The 62 or so days of high heat was sickening enough by day 2. What can I say, extended heat and through the night makes me cranky.

But what really made it monumentally dreadful was that I had my heart broken repeatedly, all throughout August. Arrow after arrow at the heart kept coming, deep and dark betrayal. Between not sleeping and not eating, it’s been just a barrel of fun.

And what’s worse is my daughters unraveling into physical and mental regression. Sadly, I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop for quite some time now and though we aren’t at a horrible spot, it definitely isn’t good. Things have been generally well for her over the past two years but now between her incredibly low oxygen levels, her excessive gum bleeding and her lack of mental direction, I’m living in terror around the clock.

Off to grade 12.

As a parent, we often do what we do and hope for the best. We step in when times of trouble arise, fix things to the best of our abilities and put it to rest. But when certain ailments keep nagging and hanging on, one can’t help but be constantly walking on egg shells. We all take breathing for granted or I know I do anyway. With her resting rate at 80, I don’t know what the future holds. I’m terrified she’ll need to haul around an oxygen tank 24/7, we’re at that point.

So why did I start off this post by complaining about my life the past couple summer months? It’s all relative to my underlying worry about my daughter. Her other issues aren’t at alarming rates like her oxygen but just more kindling on this unnecessary fire. Or in God’s great plan, is anything unnecessary? I suppose not.

I’ve traveled these roads on my own for a very long time so I know we will push through. I can only keep praying and watching and believing for healing to come, without any further grief to my sweet, innocent baby girl. Into the coolness of the fall we go, hoping for answers and relief to come in hearty supply.

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