Aslaug's Axe Shed

I am not the type to lose my ability to express myself very often. No cat ever really gets my tongue for very long. It just doesn’t happen to me.

Not to this filly. No siree. I can be stumped, momentarily taken aback or even silenced for brief periods but I am not usually one to totally lose my sense of space and time over something.

And if anyone…anyone out there thinks I’m using to extreme words right now, I’ll DARE that person to come here and say that to my ruddy face!

Valaina…one of my three proofreaders and my best friend, is here visiting over the holidays and she’s brought her two kids. Those of you who frequent my forum are aware of the condition of her daughter, Rachel.

To those of you who don’t go there, Rachel is an amazing kid. I don’t have a damned biological clock, guys…I DON’T HAVE ONE…and I can feel it ticking when she grins at me. It’s like telling me that there’s more than 360 degrees to a circle, that the sky is bright orange and the yellow tastes of vanilla. It’s nonsensical…

And I’m rambling.

Erica…as Valaina’s real life name is…has more on her hands than most people I know. Both her children have special needs. In the case of Rachel, she’s profoundly deaf, suffers from cerebral palsy and was recently diagnosed with epilepsy. Despite this, Rachel is a smiling, bright, outwards little girl who could charm an iceberg into a puddle. Believe you me…I’ve been hit full force in the face by the Rachel-storm these last 20 hours. I know of which I speak.

Unfortunately, her condition means she suffers from cramps and spasms in her legs and arms. Mostly her legs. She can’t straighten them out completely, and unless Erica physically sits there for 20-30 minutes -every single damned day-…stretching Rachel’s legs out manually, the condition will grow worse rather than better, and Rachel’s life will turn into a waking nightmare as all her joints dislocate without chance of repairing the damage.
I hope you will never have to witness anything that horrible. Anything quite so painful.

If I ever…ever again hear anyone bloody dare tell me how bloody BRAVE I am…or have been…I’ll personall smack that sod around with Aslaug’s axe. Repeatedly.

I had to watch Erica sit there, physically causing pain to her daughter to prevent far worse pain from taking hold. I couldn’t turn my back. I couldn’t. I sat there, I saw it…I heard Rachel’s cries in pain. I heard the sheer -agony-…and I know, I KNOW that if Erica didn’t do that 20 to 30 minutes every single damned lifelong day, Rachel’s existence would be unbearable…even unlivable.

Don’t anyone ever again have the audacity, the guts or the gall to call me brave or so help me I’ll never forgive you for it…

I’ve just seen what real bravery is. I couldn’t have done it. I broke down. I am breaking down. I am crying so hard I can barely hit the types without my fingers curling, and I know it had to be done.

I sat there, and looked at Erica’s face as she did this.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not on anyone. No matter how vile or horrible.

Don’t ever…ever…ever…say that I’m brave again. I didn’t know what the word meant until half an hour ago.

Gods help me, I am not sure how to cope with this…