I've been sitting in a strange kind of limbo this week.
My 15 year old son was rushed to the children's hospital by ambulance a few days ago. CT scan. Intussusception. Tachycardic. Low blood pressure. Fever. Words I had to Google while riding behind the ambulance trying to keep it together.
They sent him home with instructions. "Come back when he's vomiting green and running a high fever." That's your threshold, mom. Green vomit. Good luck.
And here I sit... days later... not sure if I should be at the ER right now or making him soup. He's worse than yesterday but not at the "go back" threshold. Do I listen to the doctor's version of "go back" or do I trust my gut of when it's actually time? I'm so torn that today I've been pacing around the house aimlessly, wondering what I should be doing next. He's annoyed at me asking him every 5 minutes how he's feeling... he's resorted to answering "same as 5 minutes ago mom..." with all the attitude and sass only a teenager can deliver. At least I know he's still in there. Ha. He's making some bowel progress, but his pain and nausea are going in the opposite direction. No fever at the moment, which is great... but I still feel so stuck. His pain is a 5... except his pain scale is broken. This is the kid who cut his finger almost to the bone last winter with a hatchet and rated it a 1.
So now I sit here, unsure of how much I should advocate for my son, how much I should sit back and trust the process. It's so confusing. And it's so emotional. And I feel completely alone in the middle of it.
But then I remembered. This is exactly how I used to feel, and what you've been telling me.
You've described it to me in so many ways.
"My doctor says my bloodwork is normal but I don't feel normal."
"They told me this is just part of aging."
"I don't know if I should push harder or just accept it."
You are sitting in your own version of that waiting room. Stuck between what the system is telling you and what your body is screaming at you. Confused. Uneasy. Not sure which direction to move. And quietly carrying it so nobody else has to worry.
I felt so alone this week sitting with that uncertainty. And I kept thinking... this is her. This is exactly who I built HeadStrong for.
Not the woman who has all the answers. The woman who is in the middle of the question... and still showing up anyway.
Here's what I've learned sitting in this limbo with my son.
The medical system isn't trying to fail you. But it is built around averages. And my son's problem is not average. How many people have you ever heard of with intussusception? Probably none... same as me before this week. The problem is the medical system is built for average. And midlife women don't fit that mould anymore. You are tired, but it's not from lack of sleep or stress. You can't remember things, but it's not Alzheimer's. So you end up stuck in the middle... kind of like me and my son right now.
You are the woman who has always pushed harder, built more, carried more, sacrificed more than most people around you. Your body kept up for a long time. And now it's sending signals that the standard playbook doesn't quite cover. And nobody is handing you a clear answer.
So what are you supposed to do... trust the system, or your gut? But here's the heartbreaking part. What if your problem is kind of like intussusception... something you've never even heard of, something completely foreign to you? How are you supposed to have quality gut instincts on something you didn't even know existed? That's not weakness. That's just being human in a situation nobody prepared you for.
HeadStrong isn't the answer to everything. I will never tell you that. But it was the first thing that made me feel like my brain was back online after years of fog I had convinced myself was just "my new normal."
If you're in that waiting room right now... unsure, second guessing yourself, exhausted from holding the facade up... I'd love for you to read more about what we're doing at MyUnMess and decide for yourself.
No pressure. No pitch. Just one woman who gets it... telling another woman she's not crazy.
And my son... we're taking it one morning at a time. Which honestly, is all any of us can do.
With Gratitude,
Sue