Last night, as I sought rest in my bed, I realize how often i am not at rest when lying in bed. Since the death of Nolan, I constantly grapple with an overwhelming fear. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad because I’ve always been a bit of a fraidy-cat, a hypochondriac. When I was a child, I remember being bit by a cat, one of ours, and worrying for weeks that I had contracted rabies. That’s the sort of irrational fear I had as a child.
However, now it is not irrational. It’s very real, very scary, and very rational.
Nolan went to bed seemingly healthy at the at of 13. And he died.
The condition or disease or whatever you want to call it is one of many that can snatch away a healthy person in an instant. Myocarditis, inflammation of the heart. And it often has no symptoms or symptoms that can seem like something else.
Where is the fairness in that? Where is the fairness that my son didn’t show seem sick, yet he died?
So now, i find myself in bed at night feeling my heart beating strangely, feeling headaches, dizzy, any number of other symptoms as well. I wonder if any of these were how he felt that night. And i worry that I might not wake.
I used to think that dying in one’s sleep was the way to go. But now I see how horrifying it is for those who find him or her. Sure, if the person is older, it might not be quite as shocking, but I am guessing I would be shocked nonetheless.
I can’t seem to clear my mind of the fear. Some nights it is unbearable.