by SARAH BROWN
I do not send food back in a restaurant.
I do not make a fuss when someone pushes in front of me at the deli.
If one of the old fellas at the markets overcharges me for some veggies, I say nothing, thinking it must be quite a task for him to add up all those numbers.
I do not create fuss, I am not a rule breaker.
I really am a pushover.
Or a pussycat.
Except when I am a lioness.
A couple of weeks ago my youngest , Max, was not well. He was coughing up a storm and was diagnosed with Bronchiolitis. Monitor at home, keep fluids up, that kind of thing. He had a coughing and vomiting session that lasted a good five minutes, and after he was done, we entered into Parents’ Worst Nightmare territory.
My beautiful 10 month old baby boy turned blue.
(Even while writing this I have tears.)
We live 15km from hospital and our little property can be difficult to find in the dark so we didn’t bother with an ambulance. Thankfully, my sister in law was having dinner with us, so Nick (my husband) and I were able to get straight in the car and drive into town.
Quickly.
I need to say here that Max was definitely breathing, but the colour he was at that time will stay with me forever.
Here’s where adrenalin ensured the lioness took over.