An artist painting bodies of every shape, size, age, and race. Follow her journey as she discovers the beauty in every woman.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
"I just want to put you in a bubble!"
Wouldn't you think it would be enough for Dylan to have to go through major spinal surgery and having to learn to walk again?! Then this happened...
It was a few weeks after Christmas, and we were taking down the Christmas tree and putting away the ornaments in the attic. Dylan was walking by now with one cane, I believe, but mostly he was trying not to use anything. He was clear about being independent and able to do things himself. Going with that thought, I asked him to bring me a box of the ornaments and hand it to me in the attic (the door was about chest high so he just needed to hand it up at an angle so I could reach down and get it). Unfortunately there was stuff on top of the box, including a damned glass paperweight. As he handed the box up, the paperweight slid down and hit him in the mouth, breaking his tooth. Naturally he cried, both from pain and shock. I jumped down out of the attic and went to him to see what had happened. When I saw that his tooth had broken, I scooped him up and carried him to the bed, crying, "I just want to put you in a bubble!" I knew at some level that nothing terrible had happened and that he was basically OK. I broke down in sobs and couldn't stop crying and holding him and rocking him and telling him I wanted to put him in a bubble. Poor kid! He told me he was fine and not to worry, he'd be alright. I tried to explain through my tears that I knew he was OK and would be OK and sorry to cry like that. I knew I was finally letting out some of the tears I couldn't shed while he was in the hospital and needed to be cared for so tenderly. My sentiment was real - I wanted so much to protect him - but my emotions were clearly way out of proportion to the event!
Finally I got hold of myself and explained to him what was going on - that I was having feelings about his operation and I knew he'd be OK and I love him so much. I asked him to try to find the piece of his tooth that fell off so we could take it to the dentist then did all the correct parenting things like call the dentist to make an appointment, throw away the stupid paperweight, then finish putting the boxes away - after making sure Dylan wasn't traumatized by the event - he was more worried about me and my reaction than he was about himself. Poor kid!
Here's what Dylan wrote about it a month or two after it happened:
I was putting a box away in the attic that was partly open, and though I didn’t know, had a paperweight on top of it. As I was putting the box up, the paperweight – a glass, heavy paperweight – fell from the box and hit my tooth. At first it was just like, “Whoa, what happened?” Then it was pain and then I realized that a piece of my tooth wasn’t there. Then I was like, “Whoa, ah, ah…!” But then I relaxed a little when my mom started crying, because I had to show that I was a little more relaxed. My mom kept on saying, “I want to put you in a bubble so you won’t get hurt!” That got really annoying. I told her I was fine, then she made me go and finish cleaning the house.