DOT 6 : PROJECTILE

Daniel (7+ years old)

 

You kept repeating, “I can’t do it, I can’t do it.” 

Mom took You to the washroom... 

splashed some water on your face to refresh You, and hoping to calm You down, assuring You at the same time that of course, You could do it ... 

You'd never missed your planks before ... 

You’d be okay and You needn’t be scared. 

You were not listening, You were edgy and fretful. 

Your next line was, “I have a headache.” 

Mom grimaced, and asked, “But You were fine in the car, right? Did the headache just come?” 

You nodded shakily. 

Ah well, that confirmed Mom’s initial suspicion that You were worried about the performance. However, looking at You so terrified and unsettled, your mother soon began to worry. 

You did look a little pale, she had to admit.

"It’ll be okay, Son, let’s go rest on the sofa for a bit," Mom coaxed. 

Just calm down, You’ll be fine, the assurance continued. 

You barely sat on the sofa for a minute before your body hurled forward and You threw up ever so violently. 

Paralyzed with shock, Mom froze on the spot ... 

There was only this one other time that your mother had seen this projectile vomiting and that was when your Aunt Tracy threw up, in that same way, before her doctor confirmed a metastasis from her bones (knee) to the lungs and to the brain. 

The naughty cell had clearly got your mother’s attention.

 

 Here's Justine and You striking a pose outside our previous condo at Faber Ria.