On the Sidelines


Watching someone you love go through shit is one of the toughest things one can do. When my youngest son was born, there were immediate concerns for his health, although I did not realize it. I went home to get my last good night’s sleep. Little did I know how true that statement would be. A brain bleed that caused his cerebral palsy would happen the next day. Daily one-and-a-half-hour drives to and from the hospital to visit him in the NICU, followed by bi-weekly platelet transfusions after he was released took it’s toll. Al I could do was love him. I could drive him to and from the hospital, but visiting is all I could do.

A bone-marrow transplant at the age of nine months, and a year of fighting graft-versus-host disease kept us in this limbo, hopeful he would survive, but unsure. He is sixteen now, and despite his disabilities, he is one amazing kid, although he still has many struggles ahead. I’m able to do a little more now that his life isn’t hanging in the balance.

Yet, this evening, I’m in a familiar setting, although a much different circumstance. Someone I love is going through shit, and although we have a plan, there is not a damn thing I can currently do. All I can really do is wait for some news. It tears me up inside to not be able to do shit. I’d love to drink this rum in the fridge, but I need to keep my wits about me. If I am called into action, I must be able to act. I’ve spent the last five hours working my ass off to get prepared. I’m not 100% ready, but I’m close enough to meet the mission objectives.

All good plans can be thrown into chaos. I dare not update my phone just to prevent the rare case of a bad update pocket punching me (urban dictionary that shit). There can be multiple plans, which is good. Backup plans are key to a successful mission when things go sideways. One rogue wave, and you’re history. That’s my biggest fear right now. I have no idea what will happen though.

I’ve prepared as much as I can in the time I had. The go bag is packed. The truck is gassed up and ready to go. I just need to remove some ladders and tools from the bed, and I’m ready to go. I should have bought more beef jerky though. I will stay up for as long as I can to make sure everything is alright. I need to get my sleep, but I know I won’t sleep much tonight, especially if I do not hear anything. My heart aches for this person in this situation. I want our plan to come to fruition. This is the shitty part that has to happen in order for happiness to be reached.

As I wait, all I can do is pray and prepare. In the end, it will be worth it. To quote Halestorm, “I’ll wait forever if it’s worth the waiting,” although I would rather not have to wait that long.


One response to “On the Sidelines”

  1. It can be the best way to help someone by letting them know you’re there for them. It changes everything. The second you feel unsafe or scared, to know that person will be there for you (and half asses NOTHING) Fully prepared and committed. That can be the biggest assistance in a turn of events.
    People like you are incredibly rare. It’s a beautiful attribute.

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