I’m normally a very honest person. Honest to a fault to tell you the truth. I offer up way more information that I really need to, just because it makes me feel……well, honest.
Growing up, my Dad had this bizarre 6th sense where he could tell if I was even trying to get by with a white lie…..or merely an exaggeration. He didn’t tolerate anything along those lines, and I have the memories of an abundance of time being grounded and having to go out and pick up any litter around our neighborhood to prove it.
Yup, one of my Dad’s favorite punishments was to hand me a giant leaf sized garbage bag and tell me not to come back until I had filled it up picking up litter around our apartment complexes.
It finally dawned on me that there was NO way I was going to get by with anything but the truth with this man, and so I became very good at telling it. It just made life simpler.
However, there are times I find myself in positions where telling more than the truth gets me no where…..especially as a parent of a medically fragile kid with special needs.
For instance, since Parker’s surgery to stitch down his epiglottis we noticed some strange side effects. Calling to get an appointment with the ENT, I was told his next appointment was over a month out.
Uh…..Parker could drown in his own spit by then.
When the receptionist asked if this was an emergency, I answered ‘yes’, without even blinking an eye.
It’s been an hour now, and I still don’t feel one drop of guilt.
Will these side effects themselves kill Parker within a month?
Could they cause an aspiration pneumonia that could land him in the hospital for a week?
You bet your sweet patoot.
While not the typical definition of an emergency, in the Parker’s world it’s pretty dire.
If there’s a hell for these kind of not-quite-the-truths, then I’ve got me a reserved seat with a flashing neon sign shining above.
Considering watching Parker die of something I TOTALLY could have prevented would truly be a hell on earth, I consider it a fair trade.