Recently, my mom and brother called me on a three-way call, and the weight of their conversation hit me hard. My mom had been feeling unwell for a few weeks and went to the doctor, where they ran some blood work and sent her home. The next day, she received three frantic calls from the doctor’s office, leaving messages about her urgent results. They were worried she might be in the hospital.
My mom tried to return their calls, but the phones were acting up. So, she decided to drive to the office, where the P.A. told her she needed to be seen immediately. My heart sank as I listened in on the call, hearing the urgency in the P.A.'s voice. My mom's white blood cell count was elevated, and they suspected leukemia. In that moment, we were all gripped by fear, imagining the worst-case scenario, especially since my mom was on the other side of the country. She rushed to the ER, with my brother and me still on the line, feeling utterly helpless and frantic.
In the midst of this panic, I was trying to keep it together for my son. He’s very perceptive and could tell I was upset. Then he surprised me in the sweetest way. He said, “Mom, I did something for you that will make you feel better,” and invited me into his room.
He had signed me in for my appointment with Dr. Caleb. How adorable is that? The lights were off, and he had his planetarium projector lighting up the ceiling. He handed me two stuffed animals and a pop-it toy because he knows those help with anxiety. He even made me lemonade, my favorite drink, and found some calming meditation music on his TV.
He asked me to rate my anxiety on a scale of one to ten. I told him it was about an eight. Then he set the scene with the music, guiding me to focus on my happy place. For me, that place is anywhere as long as I’m with him, but especially the lakeside cabin we visit every year. For the next ten minutes, he asked me to describe five things I could see, smell, and touch, encouraging me to take deep breaths.
After a while, he checked in again, asking where my anxiety was on that scale. I told him it had dropped to about a five. He said "That's good!" He had taken me from a ten to a five, but what truly moved me was his sweetness and thoughtfulness. He has his own struggles with anxiety, and in that moment, he was using everything I do for him when he feels overwhelmed.
It struck me then: when I feel like I’m not helping him, I’m actually doing so much more than I realize. Just when I thought I couldn’t be prouder of my son, he shows me the depth of his love and compassion in a moment like this.
This tiny person that God gifted me is filled with so much empathy. He truly is special, and I adore him with every ounce of my being. It’s moments like these that remind us of the power of kindness and the bonds we share.
For those wondering, my mom was diagnosed with Luekemia but it's a very mild case and thankfully, she is going to be just fine!
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