Sunday, January 22, 2012

There are moments when a parent’s heart catches in their chest, choking us as we struggle against the sound of our child in pain.  Earlier today, my oldest son called.  From the second I heard his voice, I knew something was amiss.  Seconds into the conversation, he told me that there was something wrong with one of his cats.  Knowing my background as a veterinarian technician, he asked if he could bring him up for me to take a look. 

In the background, I could hear the woeful cry of the cat.  It was incessant, not high-pitched or in agony, just a constant, letting those near aware that he was hurting.  A moment later, my heart did that thing I dread—it caught in my throat as I heard my grown son’s usually calm voice crack, when I asked if perhaps the cat had been hit by a car.  The visual of that was just too much for my son—the though of his baby injured in such a manner.

Instead of letting my emotions take over, I went on autopilot, my voice a steady calm as I asked a few more questions and then told my son to bring the cat to me.  Not long after, my son and his girlfriend arrived, injured cat in tow.  One look at their faces and my heart, already swelling in my throat, choked me more.  Again, I went on autopilot.  Dipping into my training as a veterinarian technician, I maintained a calm demeanor as I spent the next forty-five minutes inspecting the cat.

During the exam, I kept my son and his girlfriend apprised of my findings.  With each new bit of information I shared, I could see the strain, which had etched both their faces with deep worry lines, lessen.  By the time I was done, both were visibly relaxed and laughing at stabs of humor I used to lighten the somber mood.  Watching the anxiety drain from their faces, my heart, still caught in my throat, resumed its normal position in my chest, no longer threatening to choke me. 

Though my son’s cat is in discomfort, I determined that it’s nothing life threatening.  They’ll take the cat to a local vet to be checked first thing tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, I told my son what to watch for to determine if the cat was maintaining or getting worse.  With great relief, I watched my son and his girlfriend’s stress levels disappear, now empowered with something they could do for their cat.

When they left, I exhaled the held breath of my own stress I’d been maintaining since the moment I first heard my son’s voice crack on the phone.  I could feel my face relax into a sincere smile as I took comfort in knowing that I’d been able to help comfort my son and his girlfriend in their hour of need.