The Flares
My Mother sits awake at an unearthly hour. Sits there in silence and hopes for the pain to depart quickly.
I awaken later once the dawn peeks above the skyline and ask, “Momma, why are you awake?”
She takes a long time to gather the strength to answer.
“I just am.” she sighs.
It makes my heart heavy whenever I see her like this. The disease takes hold of her and squeezes with a violent and relentless fist. She has no energy to get up and walk. She wheezes heavily when she has to get dressed and put on her shoes. She tries to go to work and I long to tell her, “Please, stay home”. But I know she won’t. She refuses to let it change her. At least, for now.
When she has a flare, she’s so burnt out. Even doing the simplest things take so much out of this remarkable woman.
I always thought my mother was invincible. Maybe, in a way, every child does. I suppose though, that every super hero has a weakness. Or a flaw.
My mother has Sjogren’s Syndrome.
Being almost twenty-two and finishing up college, I sometimes believe in the heat of things that my life is “hard”. I have exams, term papers, homework, two jobs to support myself, and friends that believe I don’t spent enough time with them. I sometimes believe that I have it “rough”. I sometimes believe that maybe, this is all too much. And then, I look at my mother. And I realize that I really don’t have it that hard at all.
This Wonder Woman manages to go to work and complete her physically demanding tasks each day with a smile on her face. She manages to come home and tend house, cook dinner for everyone, and address our minor dilemmas. All while the symptoms of her Sjogren’s make her voice hoarse and her mouth and eyes miserably dry. While her dehydrated glands make it hard to swallow. While her muscles are fatigued and she’s always feeling on the verge of collapsing. While her blood vessels are alive and inflammed with pain.
She is my biggest inspiration. And while I hurt deep inside knowing that I can never fix her disease, I take a great amount of pride in calling her my mother.
She is the strongest person I know.
I know that if I grow up to be half the person that she is, I’ll have made a difference.