Going to the clinic brings me memories just five months ago and back–my multiple visits for shots post chemo, my sick visits due to low resistance to infections, and lab work. Each visit, I felt weak and unconditioned. I did not want to be here.
I still don’t want to be here. Today, my son woke up with swollen left eye and cold symptoms–sore throat, runny nose, and general malaise. All that and he still wanted to work.
“It’s Saturday, mom. Saturdays are required.” He shows me a text from his boss, the driver who takes them to the neighborhood to do his route selling cookies. Boss says he has to work or else…
I still did not let him and called in sick for him. Because I called and said that he is sick, he is excused and he is not losing his little job, my thirteen-year-old.
But still, I am the “bad mom.” “You want to work? Here’s work.” I handed him the basket full of clean laundry. Why, suddenly, his body aches became unbearable. *sigh*
Maybe, he needs to be seen by the doctor. So here we are, on a Saturday-bigger-copay-day, we sit in the clinic waiting for him to be seen. 😦