Once upon a time, the 4th of July was a big deal to me. Bar-b-q with friends and relatives was the plan with good old fashion beer to wash it all down. The hype from the TV, the fireworks overhead and on the televised Brooklyn Bridge lent itself to the culmination of the day where I would turn up the AC to drown out the noise and go to sleep.
Today, I will find myself in the hospital once again with my poor ailing daughter, the silence will be pronounced and the celebration will be tempered by the fact that she is alive, if not unwell.
The loneliness will be punctuated only by the sounds of the IV alarms or n occasional visit from the nurses. But lets’ face the truth; I really don’t feel like celebrating! My stomach is in constant turmoil while my appetite is non-existent. I eat because I need to, not because I want to. While the bands' march on and the flags wave I will worry about my daughter and her mom.
The idea that someone is celebrating today is kind of hard and leaving me feeling like an outsider.
HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!
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