The breaking point

[caption id="attachment_522" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ellie not singing Danny sad song"][/caption]

Several years ago, whenever Ellie felt sad or uncomfortable, she would sing about her sadness to the tune of "Stranded at the Drive In" from the musical Grease.  The amount of her singing multiplied after a particularly challenging hospital stay, until Thom and I absolutely thought we would lose our minds.  When staff members at the hospital would hear her lamenting to the Grease tune, they would often stifle a laugh or at the very least grin.  But we were at our breaking point.  She would start in and we would protest, "No, don't do it, don't sing that song."  It seems ridiculous now that Thom and I were so impatient with the song.  But at the time it was not in the least bit amusing.

One day we were taking Ellie to the hospital for a seizure.  As we were riding in the car, baby Ben was in the

[caption id="attachment_564" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Oh no, here comes that song again!"][/caption]

back seat oblivious, just having a grand time while Ellie's seizure continued to worsen.  The radio was on and I suddenly became furious that I didn't like the radio stations offered in Madison.  I could not understand why a town this size could not offer at least one radio station that I would care to listen to.   It was easier to be mad at the radio station than scared of a seizure.  At that moment it was the last straw.

When we were doing physical therapy this summer, I mentioned that Ellie often complains of her feet hurting.  The physical therapist told us that her feet were flat and turned in on the sides a bit and that orthotics could help the situation.  I just thought, NO!, I refuse to "fix" one more thing now.  In my mind, I threw in the towel, that was IT.  I had had IT.  Enough already.

It seems funny in hindsight to think that it wasn't the actual seizure that brought me to my knees, but the radio station.  It wasn't the surgery or aftermath, but the song.  My

[caption id="attachment_855" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="I am gonna blow!"][/caption]

friend Betsy, calls it a "smoke screen", it is sometimes easier to be upset about the radio station, which you can easily shut off than to be upset by a seemingly out of control seizure.  Whatever the term, it  just seems strange the straw that finally brings you down.  Pondering all this reminds me that when my children or others around me "lose it" over something seemingly insignificant, perhaps there is build up I am unaware of.  Even if it doesn't make sense to me, the amount of upset to the size of the event, maybe, just maybe it was the last straw.