And so the song goes…

Have you ever been driving along, or simply sitting in your vehicle, and a song’s lyrics just smack you? I have heard the song over and over again, and, like the masses, I do love Snow Patrol. Truly, though, I have never really “heard” one particular song’s lexis.

I am petrified about next Friday’s procedures. I know the surgeon is stellar. And really, they have to be rock stars in their field or they will not touch my son with a knife. I simply say, “No,” and find someone else. It has to be done that way. He’s just too fragile. Bedside manner is no longer relevant. Congeniality is not a prerequisite, but this particular surgeon excels in that particular area as well. Rare, but true. I’ve learned how to interact with these personality types. They don’t have to be polite (and generally, they are not), but I will not tolerate ineptness (and it has run quite rampant when it comes to our son’s care).

This time though, we’re in good hands and lucked out as dear pediatric surgeon is really quite a doll. But still, organ removal? Organ removal in a two and a half year-old child who has lived through an 8-week premature birth, severe thyroid problems, a pretty risky spinal surgery, has a Dandy Walker variant, has venous hypertension, a compromised airway, and merely weighs in at a not-so-hefty 21 pounds. Nuf said!

So, the song comes on…

Open Your Eyes

“All this feels strange and untrue
And I won’t waste a minute without you
My bones ache my skin feels cold
And I’m getting so tired and so old
The anger swells in my guts
And I won’t feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
Cause I need you to look into mine
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes
Get up get out get away from these liars
Cause they don’t get your soul and your fire
Cause they don’t see what I see in you
Take my hand knot your fingers through mine
And we’ll walk from this dark room for the last time
Every minute from this minute now
We can do what we like anywhere
I want so much to open your eyes
Cause I need you to look into mine…”

Yep, hit me like a ton of bricks as I sat sobbing in the damned drive through line (Indeed; I’m too tired to cook). Pulling up, the poor lad looks at me in horror.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Um, sure…just a bad day,” I say.

Needless to say, I could not ingest the stupid roast beef sandwich and fries. Just had a glass of red wine and went to bed.

I want it to be over…

ALL

Over!