by Syllvermyst

Created on: October 16, 2007

Me? A hero? Yeah, I have heard the much used phrase, "You are my hero!" I heard it from friends that needed a ride to work, to home, to school, to the grocery store and even, me returning a library book to the library and a movie to a video store and so on. I realize, in that moment, I must have seemed a hero to them. Not to me. I did what was needed, though, sometimes, I would have rather slept or finished a project at home. Maybe, I needed to to do something else in place of shopping that was put off. In most cases, it was something like that.

Then, there are the incidents that I do not hear those words. Instead, I hear, "Thanks, mom! You are the best!" "Mom, this is so cool! How did you ever..." "It is so unfair! But, you understand, don't you, Mom?" "Where do you come up with these ideas? This is perfect!" Other times, I hear nothing beyond the insane laughter of my younger two children as they spend their alloted time before the television and perhaps, the game system, I recently bought at a pawn shop. A discontinued system, it is proving hard to find some games. Yet, I found the ones I knew they would enjoy, and cause me the least, irritation from hearing them. Instead, I hear, the laughter. See the smiles and can rest easy that I, not a big game player myself, was right for once in my life on something.
Other times, I see relief, as my husband takes his breathing treatment and is able to breathe. I see his relief as he reaches for his inhaler and finds it is full and ready for him. A rare occurrence, but, getting more frequent. So, I know my constant vigilance of his prescriptions are paying off. As he lies beside me at night, with his CPAP machine and oxygen going, I am able to push aside those sounds in place of the missing ones that have haunted me for nearly 15 years of our marriage. The choking, gasping, and the worst, the none sounds, of him not breathing. Not to mention I am spared the sight of his struggling, the tears from his eyes as he gropes for breath when this occurs and I have awakened him. I am spared the sight of the strain lines about his face as he takes 4 Tylenol every morning. Something he does no longer. Those unyielding headaches are of the past with him on the oxygen.
Gone as well, is my own headaches and most of the fatigue I was feeling from my late nights of guard duty at his side. When he slips on that mask, I tell him, "He is my hero for just doing that."
I have stood in the middle of a disaster area with warm soup and coffee,

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