In the end it all comes down to being who you are and doing what you do. Just being who you are and holding out your hand (physically or virtually) to help someone down the frightening path ahead of them can end up tagging you as someone’s hero.
What’s a hero…
google suggests that it is:
“a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.”
I’ve been thinking about it listening to this song on a loop for the last hour or so… She’s Somebody’s Hero… and it make me smile. And it makes me cry.
This week I have been reminded again that I am someone’s hero. I don’t really “get” how I’m someone’s hero, because I’m just me and I just do what I need to do (I do the needful) to get by and get through. This week getting by and getting through have been kind of hard.
Tuesday my baby girl went to the doctor (my rheumy) and was put on prednisone. Her wrists were inflamed and overly warm to the touch. The doctor told her that, if the prednisone works it amounted to a diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis. She’s 22 and she just got her barber’s license, she just landed a job where I know she is meant to be. She is just getting off of her epilepsy meds and getting back to a normal personality again. It kicked me in the stomach that she has RA. She has has so much shit in her life so far, it’s not fair that now she has RA.
She’s still going through the TOTALLY freaking scared portion of the adventure. She’s taking her meds (Prednisone and Plaquinil) the way she is supposed to. She is taking tylenol and she is using my valpurin gel to get her through the days until the plaquinil really kicks in and starts to be a maintenance dose for her. She is putting on a brave front even through the loopy that the predinsone brings but even her brother sees the fear.
This week she reminded me that I am her hero.
I don’t think she realizes that she is one of my. She has had some pretty hard times. She has had stuff going wrong in her body that you just don’t get at her age (gout… kidney stones). She has had stuff going on that is rare (nephrotosis… gastroparesis). She has struggled with finding and accepting herself. She drives me out of my tree sometimes. But she always comes back to being my little squirrel girl and she always ends up getting centered again.
And my little duckling is finding out that she is a swan.
And she will get through.
It made me think back to when my son called me his hero for the first time. It was my first half marathon just three short months after my RA diagnosis. I finished the race and he walked backwards through the course to walk me in. I think if he hadn’t, I would have quit. By the time I passed the capital building in Austin my hips hurt so bad that I was so nearly crying when I crossed the finish line and I nearly couldn’t walk back to the car to drive home. And I was his hero. He tells me every once in a while that I still am.
And he doesn’t realize that forcing me to LISTEN to why he thinks he has Aspergers (yes, I know it isn’t a diagnosis code and I know that Austism is the official name) and making me learn what he means and what it means and and watching him coming to terms with his reality has made him one of my heroes. Adding in the Sjogrens… adding in the nerve damage that made him struggle with walking… adding in the POTS… and his finding his own identity… he is one of mine. He is wise beyond his years, at times frustrating but always stronger than he realizes.
Bear has told me more than once in the last few years that I’m his hero. He keeps telling me that I keep him going because no matter what I keep going…
I know he doesn’t realize that he is one of mine. He has always been there pushing (sometimes more than I would have liked at the time) me to do what I needed to do to become who I needed to become. He’s picked up ALL of the slack at home and he has kept our little pocket of weirdness functioning and has gotten everyone where they needed to be when they needed to be there. Now, more than ever, he is one of my heroes because he is doing everything he needs to to keep going. He’s not letting anything stop him or keep him from being active.
Watching him struggle (physically and mentally with the new reality) is hard and sometimes it almost breaks my heart, but keeping him strong is keeping me strong and even when he feels really crappy he keeps us both walking almost every day.
I have another hero, too. One who has long time been my cheering section. One who has always been there for me to help me even when helping me hurt. She has been there, she has fought the fights (and she still does) and she continues to make such a huge difference in her family’s lives. I think frequently of how we sat in Jamesway parking log eating a basket of strawberries with Hershey’s chocolate on them… giggling… and how we had to finish them all before we took the rest of the groceries home (hiding the evidence).
You never know when you start to turn into somebody’s hero. You don’t realize how many lives you touch or how you will end up touching them. I have so many more heroes… so many who have struggled and have come through (or are coming through) so many things that no one can quite understand.
It is a week of contemplation… and for tears, smiles and tearful smiles.
Love and Light
just being a Figment of Fitness