When he felt better, I asked him what was the scariest part of the surgery. He said when he first woke up and couldn't open his eyes. Nobody told us he wouldn't be able to open his eyes. It just looked like he had his eyes closed because any light bothered them. At first, I didn't understand that was what was upsetting him. I held him and told him "I'm right here with you" and that it was okay to rest, but he was clearly pretty frantic.

I brought his personal stereo for him with the tape he listens to at bedtime. He finally calmed down and went to sleep again. When he woke up, he was less upset, though still very miserable. What was bothering him most was the horrible taste in his mouth; sips of gingerale didn't seem to help at all.

We took him home, where he threw up and was just limp with misery. He then slept for awhile, "watched" TV (mostly curled up facing the back of the sofa). The tears were slowly but steadily running out of his eyes and he couldn't tolerate any light or curtains open. When I checked on him, he told me to go away (I think because I told him not to rub his eyes and he wanted to be able to rub them--he wasn't doing it badly). He tried to eat and got hit by another bad wave of nausea, though he didn't throw up. Then he 3 hours of solid sleep. When he finally woke up, he felt better.

I left a message for my parents when we got home and when they called back they wanted to hear all the details (mostly from my husband). I'm disappointed they didn't call us the night before the surgery or send my son anything. They are busy with an event they are helping organize this weekend. I went out and bought my son a stuffed raccoon, and he was happy with that. His sister (who spent the night with a friend) and the kids in his summer program made him big cards, and when he woke up from his long nap he was very pleased with those.

The rector of my church had promised to come by and visit. Friday is usually his day off, but he had to attend new student orientation in the morning. He called and I told him my son wasn't feeling very well and he said it sounded like it was better if he didn't come (I felt like he really wanted to have some of his day off).

I wasn't able to say I needed him to come, though he acknowledged that it probably triggered a lot for me. I did say I needed to talk and I was able to tell him on the phone some of the things I was upset about. I was very disappointed; I really needed to start talking about the bad stuff and I had been looking forward to his visit.

I found another way to meet my need. My husband tried one friend of mine who wasn't home and then I called the friend who was keeping my daughter. She asked me how I was doing and I said my reaction was hitting me. She asked if I wanted her to keep my daughter longer and I was actually able to say "I need to talk."

My son was asleep at that point, so I left my husband to mind the fort and went over to my friend's house and talked to her for awhile about my feelings. It became clear that I have a lot of child-like feelings that don't understand about doctors and I see the situation as not being able to protect my son from abuse. Later on my therapist called and I was able to tell him also. He is going to call me again tonight.

next day:

Today, my son is himself again and I feel like it's over, but yesterday was really, really bad. I felt such overwhelming horror about my son being in so much pain and misery and I couldn't protect him, couldn't make it go away. I guess when I was a child, the protection I longed for was not just someone who would comfort me, but someone who could magically make all the bad stuff go away. It is scary just to write that. I also feel that as I comfort my son, and hold him, and am there for him, I am giving him something I don't have and I get more-and-more hollow and empty. Today, he doesn't need me that way anymore. Yesterday, when he did, I felt a kind of satisfaction in destroying myself for his sake.

The triggering situation is over, but it leaves me with lots of feelings to deal with. Scary, scary stuff.

next: The Shadow