Ouch

I didn't even see the truck that flattened me.  It came out of nowhere, and here I am in bed again.  Ken is suggesting I shouldn't go to Allison's All-South Jersey Band concert because I'll focus all the attention on myself when it should be on her.  Which made me cry for the 300th time in the past 15 hours.  I'm trying.  I ate my favorite soup, and I went to the gym for an undelightful treadmill walk on this 28-degree day.  Still, I'm so sick, and worse, so miserable.  Jonah slept at Jacob's house last night, which was a blessing, but he wrote this for me at some point (grammar corrected because you know I can't tolerate misplaced apostrophes):

It Doesn't Matter, by Jonah Friedman

If you're really sick or you have a chance of life stopping, all that matters is if you have someone that cares.  You do need someone to care if you are one of those sick ones like my mom.  Ask yourself:  Does anyone care?  Think of your friends.  Do they care?  Think of your family.  Do they care?  Yes, they do, you will think, and that's all that matters.  This is for my mom on a night when she was very sick, it's also the night it was written as a story for my mom.


That's the kind of thing my boys do to try to make me feel better, and it's so unfair to them.  I still have my mom, and she's not going anywhere before I do, most likely.  Why do these kids have to experience something this horrible?

I don't know why I'm suddenly this emotional, like it's brand new all over again, especially after Tuesday's post.  Maybe because my physical symptoms are back so fast, or maybe because I shouldn't be reading the book I'm reading.  (Sorry, Sharon, but I didn't expect quite so many parallels.)  I have 20 minutes to shake it off.  Allison slept at a friend's last night, and doesn't know about all of this.  I don't want her to know.  Her concert cannot be all about me, but I have to go.  To thoroughly display my current state of mind:  I have to go because what if it's the last one I'll get to experience?