Living life inside a bubble

Bubbles.

Bubbles. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have been humming the Coldplay song for some days now. I guess that what is to come now, for the next few days, are so weird and strange that living in a bubble suits me just fine. An I certainly hope that bubble-life ends, on Tuesday night. When everything is ok, my daughter is well and happy, and I can breathe again and feel ok.

The more you have to wait, the worse? I think that is the case. My daughter has been waiting for more than a year for this procedure. Her life has been on hold. Instead of being a happy young girl, her life has been controlled to every last bit by pain, by weakness and by all the consequences of her situation as a whole. And I have been on the same wave, in a way. We are so close, so everything I feel, she feels, and when she is tired or in pain, I feel it too. If not, I certainly feel that she is feeling like this.

Deep down, I wish that after this, she can go back and be a normal (whatever that is) young woman, studying, working, partying, dancing. Worrying about what to wear or makeup or something girlish like that. But she has been through so much, that the whole perspective on her life has changed. Her experiences has made her a very compassionate and caring person. She has a level of insight both to her medical condition, and to the mental challenges that follows it (and all other stuff related to growing up) that I can only admire. So “normal” will never apply to her.

In so many ways, that is good. At the same time, it is so complicated.

Hopefully all bubbles will burst for both of us on Tuesday. Hopefully, life on hold, waiting, will be over, and she will have a heart that works like mine. Cured. Well. Healthy.

Totally new perspectives!

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