Crohns Mom

When all of my health stuff went down, my folks were my rock. They came home as fast as they could from their trip when I was in the hospital (the first time) and took me to their place so that they could take care of me. I lived with them rent-free for 9 months. I really don't think I could have gotten through it all without their love and support.

They both did a lot, but Mom was a powerhouse. Since Dad was still working full-time, Mom was around helping me the most. She fed me every day, trying desperately to get me to put on weight, to keep food down. She took requests, making anything that might tempt me.

She sacrificed her sleep while I was with them, keeping her bedroom door open so that she could hear if I called out, needing help. That means she woke up each time I CLUMP, CLUMP, CLUMPed to the washroom on my crutches, up to 5 times each night.

Not only did they take me in, but they took in my dog as well. Which he repaid by peeing on Mom's bed skirt regularly. Since I was down for the count, for several months there, Louis was her dog, and she treated him as such, even though there was already one dog in the house (and their dog, Tikki, was approaching the end of his life, so there was even more sadness looming).

Mom was there for every appointment, every hospital stay, managing my schedule and fielding important information from doctors when I was just too drugged up, discouraged or overwhelmed to handle it on my own. She was there for all of the Home-care Nurse appointments, witnessing things that no parent wants to have to see. Mom helped me with my physiotherapy exercises, even though it gave her the heebie jeebies. She kept track of my meds (and there were a lot) and made sure that I took them when I was supposed to. I had basically returned to childhood, unable to care for myself, and boy did Mom step up to the plate.

Mom handled the brunt of my emotions, being that we spent most of every day together for the better part of a year. There were times when I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, honestly, and my mood would cast a gloom over the house, making it feel like a morgue. Mom carried that burden, along with her own burden of watching her child suffer, and pulled through it with a strength that maybe she still doesn't know she has. She's definitely up-to-date with the grey hair situation, though.

During my convalescence, Mom was present at home, all day every day. So when I was bored and she was working in the office, and I hollered silly comments at her from the living room, she would humour me and respond in kind, just happy that I was a little bit more myself. She challenged me, celebrated my successes with me, as supported me through my failures. She did (and does) her best to look out for me as she has always done, steadfast and true.

When I was finally starting to feel better and was released from the hospital (the third time) my folks settled me into my house, even though it was a terribly busy time for them. They made sure I was cared for, never more than a text away. My folks always manage to squeeze time and energy in for us kids, often sacrificing their wants and needs without a second glance.

There's no real way to measure a Mom's love, and no adequate way of thanking her for it. She has to bring you into the world and then sometimes has to struggle to keep you there, all with a smile and a supportive hug. So Mom, thanks for being such a trooper through my never-ending health saga. I'm sorry that my F-BOW is keeping me close to home and that I can't be with you today. I'm sure there are hundreds of things that I'm leaving out, but the important thing to say is this: I love you and am so grateful for you. You're the best! xx

And thanks to my sisters-in-law for bringing such awesome kids into the world! My niblings light up my life and are an absolute treasure.