Over the past few weeks I’ve had ample opportunity to be on the other side. Not like some parents with chronically ill children or those with children who have suffered tragic illness. No, not like that; I am fortunate that hospitals aren’t a part of my family’s everyday (except for work). My children have had amazing fortune and I remain in awe of good health. Lately though, we’ve had some stumbles. Literally.
O broke his leg a week ago after falling from some play equipment while we were on a trip to California. Six days before that, he turned blue in his lips and mouth and we ended up in the ER for a 6 hour investigation. My mom finished a week of chemo this past weekend and we’ve got follow-up visits for nearly everyone. Two today, in fact. I’m still living a part of the generational sandwich. And we go to see doctors. Allowing ample opportunity for being on the other side.
When I tell others about my experiences in the ER with little O or with my mom at the cancer center, or going to the doctor for my own health care, people often point out how good it is for me. Enter broccoli with a side of brussel sprouts. People want doctors to go to the doctor. I get it.