Last night I had yet another nightmare about Mighty Z. I know that parents of healthy kids have those as well, heck I also have a healthy kid (La La), and sometimes I have nightmares about her. My nightmares about Mighty Z are different, though, from the occasional nightmare I might have about La La.
My nightmares about Mighty Z always start with me somehow inadequately taking care of her, and they always end in Mighty Z's death. In short, my recurring nightmares starring Mighty Z are private horror movies of my worst fear: that I am inadequate to the task of caring for a chronic, complex, critically ill child. I am deeply afraid of making a mistake that costs my child her life. Mighty Z deserves the best care possible, and I hold myself to a very high standard in Mighty Z's care. I feel that I need to do better then my best to provide all the care that she deserves.The bar is set very high for my Mighty Z.
This morning, after waking in a cold sweat from my nightmare about Mighty Z, I did what I always do -- I ran to check on her. I assured myself that she was fine and that all was well; but my thoughts of inadequacy still linger, as they usually do after such a dream. I often have to be my own cheerleader at times like these, because there's no one else around to do the job. So, if and when I regale you with some story about how something terrible almost happened and the various steps I took to get Mighty Z stabilized again, maybe there's a good reason for that -- maybe I had a bad dream.