Super Mom


I know I should let go of the anger

I know that I should stop feeling angry. I should stop trying to go back in time and force the doctors to help him. I should stop trying to go back in time and not be angry with myself for not doing more.

We were there for an hour and a half. ONE AND A HALF HOURS. In an emergency room. Not a coffee shop. An emergency room. Where they need to help people with emergencies.

My dad had an emergency. He was busy dying and they did not help.

How can I not be angry!?

My dad shouted in pain. I begged for help. Help came too late. Five minutes before he passed away. That’s when help came.

They could have saved him. Could they have saved him? I don’t know! That is something that I have to carry with my always because they didn’t try. If the tried when we got there, I would know there was nothing they could do. Now I sit with all the what if’s. What if I shouted. What if I grabbed them by the shoulders and pulled them into his room. What if they did check and injected him. Would there have been enough time.

I will never know and that makes me angry. Feeling that he might have survived if … He was where he needed to be but they didn’t try.

I don’t know how to stop being angry.

Can you hear me?

I suppose it’s more “can you read this”.

I have not blogged since last year October. Every time I start up again I remember how good it is for my soul to put my feelings down on “paper”. Not long and I stop again.

This time I need to blog. I need to write about my dad’s passing. I need to put down how I feel. I will write about this often, since my dad was not just my dad. We had a relationship that many of my friends have said they were jealous about. I didn’t know that before he passed. I just always knew that he had my back and I had his.

He was the one I could go to with everything. The one who taught me not to judge. Not to get angry quickly. To look at life through other’s perspective as well.

These posts won’t be about our relationship though. I might have some here and there but this is about his passing. About how this is tearing me apart.

“I miss you, Dad. I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you that day.”

So it IS dyslexia. Thank goodness.

Yes. Thank goodness.

We had him tested for dyslexia when he was younger. He was 9. He was diagnosed as having dyslexia and after trusting that the teachers would know how to handle a child with dyslexia, I was sorely mistaken and had to make the decision to homeschool him.

I have gone back and forth so many times. I’m just a mom. What do I know? Am I making the right decision? Was this the best decision for him. What if the diagnoses was incorrect?

You know what parents are like. That guilt even when there should be none.

He had to be tested again now since he is going to Grade 10 next year and needs concessions. He needs extra time, he needs someone to read and write for him. He is allowed that if diagnosed again.

So deep in my mind I worry. What if his dyslexia is not that bad. What if, if I tried harder and he could have been ‘better’.

Well, again we were told that he is dyslexic. Both types. Yes, I know you get many types of dyslexia (trust me I know more than I want to) but two are the main ones and he has both.

Am I glad? Hell no. Do I want him to be dyslexic? Hell no. I’m I thankful for the diagnoses? Hell yes. We made the right choice by taking him out of school and giving him the opportunity to learn to read and write without judgement (from the teachers BTW and not his peers)

I think though that the biggest eye-opener for me was his reaction this afternoon. He was quiet and obviously stressed on the way there. He even said that he was scared that he did not have dyslexia. Thankfully the lady who did the tests is so sweet. He liked her the moment he saw her (even with the weird Covid mask) They went upstairs and did some tests, came back and did more in the room where I was waiting.

She can’t tell me what will be decided with regards to accommodations that he will get (that is a different government department that makes those decisions based on her information) however she did confirm that he does have dyslexia. She spoke some about his specific dyslexia but also how she picked up on certain things that he is brilliant with.

On the way back he played the music so loud and sang with non-stop. Loudly. He does not like to hear anyone sing louder than the music and we were pumping it!

You know what? He needed to hear that he is dyslexic. He needed to hear that him battling is not because he is stupid or lazy. He has dyslexia and having a diagnoses is great. Knowing that it is okay.

He needed to hear that he can do this. He will be fine. There will be ways to help and he will be just fine without being judged because he really does have dyslexia.

Yes, he was diagnosed before but he was very young and the lady that tested him was very young as well. This was different. The tests were more advanced and lady has been doing this for years. She tests a couple of children every day.

I’m happy for him. I was so happy to see him happy when we left. He feels validated. As he should.

“You are doing well, my son. I’m so very proud of you. I’m proud that you walked in there with your head held high and walked out on a cloud. You know that dyslexia is nothing to be ashamed about. It is totally okay. You are an example to others. You are so much loved. Mom xx ”


Imagine you’re going about your day, minding your own business, when someone sneaks up behind you…

You feel something press up against the back of your head, as someone whispers in your ear.

“Sssshhhhh…. don’t turn around. Just listen. I am holding a gun against the back of your head. I’m going to keep it there. I’m going to follow you around like this every day, for the rest of your life.”

“I’m going to press a bit harder, every so often, just to remind you I’m here, but you need to try your best to ignore me, to move on with your life. Act like I’m not here, but don’t you ever forget… one day I may just pull the trigger… or maybe I won’t. Isn’t this going to be a fun game?”

This is what it is like to be diagnosed with cancer. Any STAGE of cancer. Any KIND of cancer. Remission does not change the constant fear. It never truly goes away. It’s always in the back of your mind.

❤ ❤ My friend, Heather posted this. I have never been able to put into words what the anxiety is like. This is it. This is what it is like. ❤️❤️