I read an interview today with a guy that survived the Las Vegas shooting. He said if he sits in a dark room alone eventually his mind goes back to the day.
I wondered what my life event would be. I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD. Which I feel kind of awful about because I haven’t done anything brave or heroic like fight overseas or witness a life being taken. Only a few close people near me have died. Years ago I would have thought of my dad in that dark room. That would have been my life event. But these I find myself cussing Jeff a lot, the boy’s father who died of an accidental overdose 3 years ago. I find myself looking at the boys and thinking, “Look at what you’re missing. Look what you missed out on.” I wonder how many times I asked him to quit taking pills or the fight, my God the fights, hollow many times I just wanted him present. How selfish could one person be? But then I think about the times I’ve driven drunk. How selfish of me. How foolish and stupid. To risk never seeing these boys again.
So, I got a call today. Jackson’s doctor wants a MRI done to make sure his brain is ok before starting him on the hgh. $600. Out of pocket. Which, it’s for a good cause but I want to know if I’m even going to be able to afford the hgh before spending this money. It’s $398 for every endocrinologist office visit. It was $1000 last month to pay for the hgh test. This second job is just going to pay for medical bills. Screw playing down my debt.
And all of this just to give him a shot every day. Do you know how terrified of needles he is? The starter kit came today. The pen itself, a backpack, a growth chart, the needle disposer container. He thought the backpack and growth chart was cool. I’ve promised him ice cream after every successful shot. I’m going to have to keep ice cream on hand. Plus, it’ll fatten him up;) I’ve asked for a nurse to come over and give me a refresher. I asked my mom to come so she can administer the shots when they’re spending the night at his house.
I remember the first time. I remember Jeff holding Jackson and the pen in hand. I remember the nurse counting to 3. I remember Jeff immediately sticking the needle in. I was surprised. I would have flinched or chickened out and needed more time. I thought of how it was easier for him because he was braver than me. Or because he injected himself multiple times when he was using illegal steroids…I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.
I pray things go smoothly, Jackson cooperates, he grows. I pray I can be like Jeff, like a strong father.