Learned Helplessness

January has been tough around here. Really tough. We rang in the New Year with bronchitis and an ear infection. Two weeks later we still had wheezing and a suspected sinus infection. Over three weeks later and we are trying to eliminate terrible nose congestion. After my hands felt the rattling in his chest after an emotional outburst this morning, we will visit the pediatrician on Friday to rule out walking pneumonia as advised by the pulmonogist's nurse.

The most frustrating and worrisome part of having such a severely allergic son is feeling helpless. I hate giving him meds. I hate running him to doctors. I hate how sick he's been and how much school and karate he's missed. I hate how thin he looks again. I don't know how to "fix" him.

I wish I knew what was right. I feel so ambivalent about giving him medicine. All the doctors tell me not to stop the medicine. That's a big mistake. Don't stop if he "seems" better. But how do I know the medicine won't hurt him? How do I know the consequences of giving him medicine won't appear years from now? I don't. I have to trust his doctors because I am not a doctor. It's like trusting your mechanic when you bring in your car, but there's so much more to lose when they're fixing your son.

I try to remember I feel like this every winter. That he's sick every winter and we feel like we're hibernating and then things get better in the Spring. Except for the pollen. Damn pollen.