The most difficult part of being a single mother is when your children fall ill. Although I am trained as a doctor, I am a basket case when my children fall ill.
Over the years we have had so many medical dramas and I often wonder how my poor heart is still beating.
Few days ago, while playing basket ball, my son had a bad fall, which I didn’t see because my head was inside my book. I only understood something happened when I felt people were looking/staring at me. By then one of the parent and the coach has already carried my son to the bench. As I ran to where my son was, I thought I could hear all the parents chanting “traitor” or something similar to that, for it is a big parental crime not to watch your child play basket ball, instead read novels, especially when he is a very good basket ball player and is well known for the three pointers that he often scores.
My son knows he is a good basket ball player, so do I. I don’t understand the need to sit there and watch his every moves. At the end of the day, it is just a game and like everything in life, there is always a winner just as there is a loser. There isn’t anything that I would gain by seeing my son score a three pointer. My son isn’t an extension of my ego. But not many parents agree to my view.
By the time I reached my son, I noticed he was holding his left hand very tightly. “oh dear lord, a fracture?” I asked myself. Fracture means,Visit to the hospital, x-ray, get the cast, meanwhile I have to get someone to pick up Yaya and baby..all these thoughts came to my mind in a flash.
“Mom, it hurts” he said and my heart broke to a 1000 pieces.
I checked his hand and noticed that his ring finger is getting swollen. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I heard my son say “now what am I going to do with the ring?”
“What ring?” I asked. I didn’t understand what he was saying.
“Mom, look at my finger, if this swelling doesn’t go down, can you imagine what size wedding ring I will have buy ?” “oh my ring, oh my ring” he sang..
The he got up, hugged me and said ” oh Sarahmma, you are such a worry wart, it is a just a jarring of the finger”
He went back to play.
And my poor heart is still beating..