Familiar Thoughts & Feelings

I was reading today.  I found myself musing over words from other Prader-Willi Syndrome Parents.  This one mother's words stuck out to me.  Each word, each feeling has been a part of me too.  As she compared her life to superheros I found myself loving that someone else knew my thoughts, my feelings that I forget others out there share.

So, here they are:

I can thread a feeding tube faster than a speeding bullet.

I understand acronyms like IEP, AFO, ABA, GH, UPD, CoQ10, IGF-1, BP-3 FISH and MEM.
I can recall all 11 names and phone numbers of all 11 specialists we see at Children's Hospital.
I am able to understand complex medical terms in a single doctor's visit.
I am able to negotiate, with my eyes closed, the harrowing halls of the parking garage at Children's Hospital in Boston (for me it's Salt Lake City).
Wielding my magic PWS Medical Alert Booklet, I have single-handedly educated countless ER doctors, dentists, anesthesiologists, primary care physicians and nurse practitioners on all the medical complexities of Prader Willi Syndrome.
I can calculate the number of calories in a lunchtime meal faster than you can say, pass the butter please.
I can divert a full-blown temper tantrum just by singing a song or asking a question.
I wear an invisible force-field perfectly designed to repel thoughtless comments and ignorant remarks like: I think I have PWS, It could be worse, or Just a snack won't hurt.
I have a monthly schedule of appointments that rivals the Secretary of State (these have thankfully slowed for me now days--but Once upon a time, it was true).
I spend more time speaking to teachers, therapists, physicians, and psychiatrists than I do speaking with my own family members.
I can design an IEP (or ARD here in Texas) that reads like an owner's manual.
I can activate my superhero laptop, and like the bat phone to the commissioner's office, I can instantly connect with fellow superheroes from around the world who share the same evil arch enemy as me.
Like the lone superhero, misunderstood by the world, I too feel a sense of loneliness that comes from living a life few can understand. I too feel unappreciated for the mentally and physically exhausting role I play in saving a life (now this one is not really true--I have my days of course, but I've also never felt so loved and helped either).

I think I'll add a few of my own...

I can really empathize with sooo many more people.
I can see that every person has challenges going on behind their closed door; I'm much slower to judge.
I can drop to my knees and pray for help like no bodies busniness.
I can talk with the calmest, most unemotional way even though I'm screaming with craziness inside.
I have this amazing ability to kneel next to and share a little heart to heart with anyone sitting in a wheel chair or put my arm around someone that doesn't look me in the eye or talk back.
I can run like mad with a baby on my hip yelling all kinds of funny things to my daughter without caring what anyone that sees me thinks.
I may not always notice when my Heavenly Father is blessing me at the exact moment, but I can usually look back and see some pretty incredible blessings and miracles he gives me.
I can make a shot sound like the best thing you could ever do to your body.
I can whip out a meal and have no trace of any food left behind when it's all over.
I have an ability to open candy bar so quiet that you'll never hear it.
I can make my kids think it's all their idea and sometimes even make them feel like their the one in control.
I can speak of heaven, death, resurrection, pain, and joy all in the same sentence with my kids.

Oh, I could go on and on.  It was just one of those days when I stop and think about the person I've become over the last 8 years or so.  It's comforting to read anothers words that feel like they took my thoughts right out of my head.