The Things We Do For Love

Things have not been completely smooth sailing around here. Constant minor struggles. Some have been because my son is a teen, and some have been because my son is a teen with cystic fibrosis. And that got me thinking... He has been doing nebulizer treatments, along with chest PT and a multitude of other disease related things, every day, for sixteen years now. That's a long time, and to be honest, it's starting to get a little old.

So when I handed my teen his nebulizer to do last night, we did our usual dysfunctional dance. "Just do it and get it over with," I insisted. He pushed back. I took it up a notch, "Do it. NOW!"

But this time, instead of giving in, his eyes threw daggers and his palms slammed against the table. "You have no idea how I feel. I have to do this everyday, and it's dumb. Nobody else has to do this stupid stuff. You have no idea. None."

I sat there in silence and, in my mind, I let him have it, "Oh yeah? You have no idea how I feel because you just have to sit there and do it. I have to get the stupid prescription filled, fight with the satanic insurance people to get it covered, explain to the moronic pharmacist that we will be needing it every month so she might as well think ahead for once in her life and start stocking it, force your unhappy ass to do it, listen to you complain about it the entire time, then clean it all up afterward, all the while, bound by law not to abandon you in a foreign country!"

But the words that actually came out of my mouth told a different story. I told him I was proud of him. I told him how much it must suck. Of course he hates it. Who wouldn't? It's been sixteen years, after all. With no end in sight.

At least I hope not.