Hello, son,
Today, I’d like to start by wishing you a happyversary month!
The seventh already! And the second you’ve celebrated at home!
I’m so proud of you.
You’re making progress every day.
You really are the strongest, and you remind us all that we must never stop fighting in life.
Mom and I have decided that when your little Superman jersey no longer fits, we’ll have it framed under glass, as a symbol of your strength and courage.
It was with him that you graduated from UTI, and it will be him who reminds us every day that we must never give up.
Yesterday was a calmer day.
Geraldine is back, so we can take a breather.
Mom and I got organized:
I concentrate more on work to bring home money, while she manages all the specialists who come to look after you. I only stop for the respiratory physiotherapists who come twice a day.
And Dad’s in luck: his customers are adorable and continue to send him lots of work, all the while following your adventures, little champion!
Thank you very much!
We’ve also launched special offers on Mum’s accommodation, and a new guardian angel, Thiago, is helping us create pretty content for social networks to promote them. In fact, it was with him that we took the photos in the Barrinha dunes before you were born. Thank you, Thiago 😉
And so while I’m at work, Mum manages the various appointments with the specialists who come in every day, and keeps messaging me on WhatsApp to organize all your care. She also manages her homes remotely.
All this can sometimes lead to a little extra stress that explodes at the end of the day.
And then, sometimes you start crying very loudly, which may be normal at your age, but for us, every cry rekindles that fear, the fear that you’ll stop breathing and we’ll have to go back to UTI.
I may be exaggerating a little, but it’s really the way of our neurons every time.
Just for fun, I sent this video to Mom this morning, telling her it could be worse:
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DP60JtzESaR/?igsh=bHVzOGplM2JyMWhq
(This link will probably no longer exist by the time you read this, so to describe you, it’s a triplet of babies crying at the same time. When you’re an adult and read this, you’ll understand the irony and think that your dad really does have a sick sense of humor. I confess!)
Fortunately, your new milk dispenser is changing our lives.
We don’t have to stay glued together watching the drops fall, and above all, we don’t have to worry about you regurgitating and having bronchoaspiration.
It’s a real relief.
Last night, we also went out together to the local health post for your first dose of Covid vaccine. The first of many vaccinations!
It was also the first time you’d been back in our car since April 26: you in the back with your oxygen and Geraldine, us in the front.
Every time we go out to a health resort, Mum leaves first with all your papers, and when we get the go-ahead we disembark with you, Geraldine and all the gear. We never go unnoticed.
By the way, on the way out, some children saw you and approached you, full of compassion. They wanted to touch you, and understand what’s wrong with you.
I told myself that one day, you won’t have those tubes anymore, and their looks will change and they’ll see you as a normal kid.
But even if that weren’t the case, I have to tell you something: it doesn’t matter how other people look at you.
It’s even a strength, you know.
Perfect” people aren’t always lucky. They sometimes use their appearance as an advantage, and sometimes forget to work on other aspects such as their knowledge or simply their empathy.
It’s not true for everyone, but you may find it in your own life.
Your dad suffered at school because he was fat and people blamed him.
But looking back, I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
It taught me to become stronger, more sensitive, truer.
It’s not a general rule, but being different in a world where everyone is forced to be identical is an asset if you embrace it.
I hope you won’t have to suffer for it, but if it happens, remember that difference is an advantage, it’s just a question of point of view.
I love you,
Dad
P.S.: I’d like to take this opportunity to remind all your guardian angels to follow your Instagram account 😉
Even if it’s still empty, it’ll surely come in handy later.
