Every Friday, Jackson asks to drive through a quiet little neighborhood near our house. So on the way home from our daily errands, I indulge this inexplicable whim of his, and turn into Sleepy Hollow Woods and slowly drive around the hilly streets that make a nice loop back to the main road. It takes all of 5 minutes, but it gives him so much pleasure, that I never mind our weekly detour.
This morning, however, my heart was heavy with worry. I have not been feeling well lately and have become consumed with fear that it is more than just a seasonal bug or a passing inconvenience. As the mother of an autistic child, my biggest fear is dying young and leaving him alone in this often cruel and harsh world that does not seem to be getting any better in terms of special needs care and acceptance. Paul and I both struggle with this issue, as all parents of autism do. It is rarely talked about, since the day to day issues can be so overwhelming...so we push this fear deep, deep down, where is will never come back again...or so we hope.
As a generally healthy person, I am not used to feeling prolonged periods of pain or discomfort. At the risk of over-sharing (which I'm pretty sure I blew by months ago on this blog), I have not taken anything stronger than an Advil in 15 years when I was on birth control for all of 6 months. I eat well, take tons of vitamins, exercise and manage my stress well. So, now as I creep closer and closer to 40, and my body no longer snaps back like it used to, I am finding my self worrying about my health like I never have in the past. Does every lump, bump, creek and crack mean I have cancer? And while I know these thoughts are ridiculous, having a special needs child seems to magnify my worry beyond rational bounds.
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