It’s not hard to empathize with others when you’ve experienced your own difficulties. I suffered from asthma as a child. Mom told me I nearly died at two years old. I remember many things, even at two, but I guess I blocked that near-death thing out. A combination of corticosteroid injections, suppositories, inhalers, and pills kept me breathing, and alive. And though wheezing and gasping for air was no fun, I did enjoy certain aspects of the disease. If an attack came in the middle of the night, Dad gave me piggyback rides in the dark. We traversed the living and dining rooms while I steered by tugging on his ears. Left, right. Right, left. My poor father kept this up until the medicine kicked in and I fell back asleep. But I fought hard to stay awake because I never wanted those rides to end.
Published by A Cup of Tea on the Commode, a memoir
The parent/child role reversal might not have been unique to me, but how I dealt with it was. "A Cup of Tea on the Commode" chronicles my multi-tasking adventures, filling my mother’s last years with love, laughter, and joy. Though not always successful, I came pretty damn close. View more posts