Initial Reactions

06/11/15

     It's the most heartbreaking moment in a child's life, the moment when your parents sit you down and tell you that one of them is sick. It could be cancer, diabetes, or even Multiple Sclerosis, but no matter what the disease, the reaction is usually the same: shock. How do you believe that one of the people who are the reason for your existence, is sick? How do you understand why it has to be your parent, a person so loving, and not someone else's? You don't. For me, I have had this conversation with my parents twice, at only nineteen years old. Each time, it has stung a little harder.
     The first diagnosis was when I was six. I don't remember how exactly the conversation went, but it went something along the lines of, "Daddy is sick, he was born with a heart twice his size." The next few months at school I went around telling my friends that, "“Daddy’s got Cardiomyopathy! It means instead of having a heart the size of a fist, he has a heart the size of two. So my daddy loves me a lot more than your daddy loves you!” It hit me quickly though, how sick my dad really was. Because my brother and I were so young for this diagnosis, my parents often sent us to different relatives houses instead of dragging us to the hospital. I began to start acting as a parent figure to my brother, I would help him with his letters and counting, give up my TV time for him, and play the games he wanted to play, when he wanted to play them. It wasn't easy, but at the time it was what was best for him.
     The second diagnosis, I didn't react as well. I was about twelve at the time, so that's already an awkward time growing up, but as some of you may know, having a sick parent during this time is even worse. When my parents sat my brother and I down and explained to us that he had a second diagnosis, this time Multiple Sclerosis, I think I felt my heart break. Why my dad, out of all people? This time I was older and understood that my dad was sick. Because of this, I wasn't sure how to act or who to reach out to. I was jealous of my friends and their normal dads, and often took it out on them. I mouthed off to my parents and teachers, and spent a lot of that time in the principle's office and grounded. Eventually, when my parents realized that their methods weren't working, they decided to put me in therapy. While therapy no where near cured me, it did help. 
     Therapy isn't for everyone, I have stopped and started more times than I can even count. But in a sense, this blog is like therapy. It is your safe place. Feel free to share your story, ask for advice, or anything else you might need. And just remember, you are not alone. Welcome to the Sick Parents Club. 

Until next time, God Bless, 

Kim 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11