I read a post this week about how some people get the chills when they listen to certain musical pieces. I’m one of those people. What’s interesting about this to me is that I never gave a thought that some people didn’t get chills when they listened to special musical numbers. Never crossed my mind. Makes you wonder what things other people experience that you don’t.
I wonder constantly how Katy sees the world. Does her chromosome deletion change something for her? She loves music of all forms. Does she get the chills sometimes over a beautiful song? Does music make some special connection in her brain? Is that why music therapy has worked so well for her?
Does her heart soar when she sees someone or something she loves?
Does her laughter feel different than mine?
I don’t know. Will I ever know how her chromosome deletion truly affects how she sees the world and how she experiences it? I hope so.
What I do know is that this week I’ve had a song stuck in my head – Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Tonight, as I was sitting down to tell you about Katy’s upcoming surgery (I’ll get to it in a second, I promise), I put that song on. For me, certain songs have more than the power to just give me chills. These pieces are like a pure emotion sent straight into a lump in my throat. So, this song comes on and instead of the problems I’m facing and have faced over the past week, the past month, the past year, I picture my family. I picture my kids. And, at least for a little while, I can hold on to a photograph in my head of how my world might be. I don’t know if we’ll ever get there, but if I can picture it – if I can still see it there in front of me – it’s nice some times to think that the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
Back in real life, Monday was “go visit your neighborhood Shriner’s Hospital and decide on surgery day” here at the Oswald house. We’ve decided to go with Shriner’s for Katy’s right ankle/foot. They’ve been so much better since October about taking the time to go over everything with me concerning Katy’s condition and how it relates to her chromosome deletion. I hope with all my heart that it is the right decision. Katy goes in on Tuesday, December 28 for heel cord lengthening. She’ll be in a bright pink cast from her foot up to just below her knee. And hopefully, in six weeks, my little girl will be able to put weight on her right foot for the first time in more than six months.
I can only dare to dream.