Superhero sick mom: memories of strength through illness

IT STARTED with chest pains. A tightness that made me pause mid-morning, pressing a hand to my heart as if that could make it easier.

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Then came the migraine persistent and sharp settling in behind my eyes like it planned to stay. I hoped a bit of rest would help, but by the next morning, I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I was signed off sick and told to stop, properly stop.

I spent the next few days wrapped in blankets, drifting in and out of sleep. My body ached. My head throbbed.

The usual sounds of home laughter, footsteps, cartoons in the background felt far away, like they were happening in another house. And in the quiet moments, I found myself remembering.

I was little again. Maybe eight years old. I could see my mommy lying in bed, her face pale, the door half-closed. I’d hover nearby and ask in a soft voice, “Mommy, are you okay?”