We came home from St. Pete super late last night. The boys were sleeping soundly at Kathy’s house. I stopped on my way to bed to check the pill box. I’ve been obsessive about it lately, bordering on paranoid, trying to be sure I’m not forgetting any doses. This time, I opened the little compartments, and I panicked. I had given Kathy two bags, one for Saturday night and one for Sunday, with paper cups and instructions for each; yet when I checked the box, the pills for Sunday morning were still there.
I racked my brain trying to figure out what I had done. I knew I’d given her two bags. I went through all the possibilities in my head, and finally sent her an apologetic 2am text asking her to call me in the morning before giving Benji his medicine. I couldn’t go to sleep for quite some time. I was appalled at myself.
We spoke this morning, and thankfully, we deduced that I had simply not filled the Sunday bag. The Saturday bag had contained its medicine, but the Sunday bag had just the cup and instructions, no pills. Fortunately, Benji’s weekend morning medicine is just an antibiotic. It isn’t time sensitive like his evening chemotherapy medicine is. Kathy verified what Benji had taken last night, and it was all perfect. Everything was perfect. Benji had gotten what he needed, and I’d give him his morning medicine when we picked him up. I felt a huge wave of relief. I wonder if the other moms in my group feel this way. I think I’ll ask. I need to learn how to better manage my fear.
We scooped up our happy kids and headed north for Opening Day at Tropicana Field. We had a superb afternoon. Our Rays lost their opener, but we saw our favorite pitcher, our favorite fielder, and some of our favorite friends. Benji’s legs were very sore tonight when we got home. It’s been a long and active weekend; the very best kind.